Slipping into Saturday

Slipping into Saturday

Murata Ken sighed contentedly. So far, it had been a perfect day. A Saturday afternoon at the public library, completed by a nice rainy afternoon in the company of an excellent book. And Shibuya, of course.

Smiling into his book, Murata took a deep breath and released it slowly. It had taken a great deal of effort to get Shibuya to come with him; only after he had casually mentioned the temptation of the Library's new stock of baseball manga had Shibuya agreed to come along. Murata suspected it also had something to do with the inclement weather that made playing actual baseball unwise.

Murata had chosen a cozy, quiet corner for them to settle in. Shibuya had made it through two volumes of manga before he'd grown tired of sitting still and had wandered off to find some coffee at the library's coffe shop. Murata couldn't say that he was entirely unhappy about that; Shibuya had been interjecting rather often with remarks pertaining to his manga.

"Wow, that was a great hit! Way to go, Ochiba-kun!" Murata had managed to block most of it out, but it was still annoying.

It had been a strange month, Murata reflected. And the best month of his life, as well. It was exactly three weeks ago today that he and Shibuya had finally crossed the line between friends and lovers. The week prior had been difficult; Shibuya had been avoiding him, blushing furiously whenever they made eye contact, jittery and moody. Finally grown tired of it, Murata had caught Shibuya in the corridor near his room, grabbed him by the arm and held tight until the Maoh finally managed, stuttering and sputtering, to say what had been bothering him for weeks. Murata smiled privately at the innocent, simple words Shibuya had chosen: "I...l-like you. Alot."

Fifteen minutes later, they were falling onto Murata's bed, legs tangled and awkward, clothes being discarded haphazardly on the floor. It had been Shibuya's first time, and so Murata had been careful to go slowly, gently, until Yuuri's need had brought him to quicken the pace. Murata could still thoroughly recall the feel of himself pushing and grinding into Shibuya, the feel of his skin, and the taste of his cock in Murata's mouth. The moans and whimpered pleas and finally, hearing his name, his given name, gasped by a voice that was more beautiful to him than any symphony. It was a moment that had been forever burned into Murata Ken's brain.

After that one night, days turned into weeks and Shibuya said nothing about their night together. He went back to acting like his old self, bubbly and cheerful and carefree. Murata had, for Shibuya's sake, continued with his wide, undeterminable smiles and friendly comments. And each smile and each word uttered had hurt. When he could stand it no more, he cornered the Maoh in the same corridor where he had made his first stand.

"What do you want, Yuuri?" he'd said quietly, seriously. "What do you want from me?" Yuuri had stared at him for a moment and then looked away until finally Murata withdrew in resignation. That, he felt, was answer enough.

Then they had returned to Earth, back to their world (or was it? Murata didn't know anymore) and back to their normal routine. They had spent a lot of time together, but nothing had ever come up about that night. And that had left Murata very frustrated.

This was what he needed. Quiet, peaceful time with his books, his equivalent to Shibuya's baseball. And Yuuri. No matter how frustrated he was with him, the presence of the young Maoh had a cooling effect on Murata's ever tense mind. Murata looked up from his book. Where was Shibuya, anyway? Just as he returned to reading, Shibuya came walking quickly towards him, an older and quite handsome guy in tow. Murata looked up, smiling despite his annoyance.

"Hey Murata! This is Danbei Yoshirou!" Shibuya looked at him expectantly, like Murata should recognize the name and be as excited as he was. "You know, the all-star baseball guru from Matsuba High?"

Murata didn't know. But he smiled anyway and nodded to the older boy, not bothering to rise from his chair. "Nice to meet you, Danbei-san."

Shibuya flashed one of his intoxicating smiles at Murata, grateful for and pleased with his friend's behaviour. He and his new friend sat down in the big, comfy chairs near Murata and proceeded to hold a thirty minute conversation on professional baseball. Murata twitched. In the last half hour, he'd only gotten through three pages of Crime and Punishment, and he was not happy. When Danbei-san finally excused himself and left, Shibuya sat quietly in the chair.

Thank goodness, Murata thought.

"Ne, Murata? Can we go to the arcade after this? There's this new baseball sim I've been wanting to try out."

Murata nodded absently. "Just give me a few more minutes, please."

Shibuya managed to be quiet for five blissful minutes until he finally broke the silence.

"Ne, Murata..."

Murata closed the book with a snap and his pent up frustrations finally bubbled to the surface.

"What do you want, Shibuya?"

Shibuya was quiet for a moment, his eyes closed. Then he opened them, inky black looking into Murata's chocolate brown.

"You. All of you...my best friend and my..." Yuuri trailed off, his face red.

Suddenly, Murata was there, leaning over Yuuri, his hands on either side of the chair, effectively pinning Yuuri into place. Dostoyevsky lay forgotten on the floor.

"...your lover?" Murata whispered, his lips a fraction of an inch from Yuuri's ear.

"Yes," Yuuri gasped, and was startled when the warm breath pulled away and Murata retreated a few steps back.

"Come on, then," Murata replied softly, "Let's go. If you're sure," he added.

Yuuri smiled at him, warm, affirming, certain. And no more words were spoken.

It took them approximately fifteen minutes to get to Shibuya's house; it was closest, and with one look they'd both silently agreed on it. It took them five minutes to get past Jennifer, and fifteen seconds of fumbling, shaking hands to close and lock Yuri's bedroom door behind them. Murata lost track of time as he removed Yuuri's clothes and then his own, discarding them in a heap that resembled the one they'd created last time. Yuuri was already hard from turning over their last session in his head, and this time, Murata's frustration drove him to move faster. He jerked off Yuuri's jeans, taking only a moment to drink in the sight of his naked body, before lowering his mouth to Yuuri's member. Murata carefully collected the pre come from Yuuri's tip and then, looking deep into Yuuri's eyes, swallowed the bitter, unique taste that was quintessentially Yuuri. Taking Yuuri's cock into his mouth, he let his talented, experienced tongue go to work. Yuuri thrashed and moaned, and his hips bucked involuntarily, trying to bury himself deeper into Murata's mouth.

"Ken," Yuuri panted, his hands tangled in his best friend's hair, "I'm...I'm going to..." The corners of Murata's lips turned up slightly, and he released Yuuri from his mouth with a soft, wet pop.

"I know."

Yuuri ached, but wanted to hold out for what he knew came next. Murata wasted no time in coating himself with lotion he grabbed from the bedside table, and, poised atop his lover, looked up with desire in his eyes to ask permission. Yuuri smiled encouragingly.

With one smooth thrust, Murata was inside him, moving slowly at first so Yuuri could get used to the still foreign sensations. It didn't take long for Yuuri to push himself into Murata's thrusts, trying to take as much of him in as he could, thriving on sensation.

Murata was a quiet lover, compared to Yuuri, whose constant litany of slurred, senseless words drove Murata mad with desire. He reached down to capture his Maoh's lips, his tongue dancing and entertwining with Yuuri's as he continued his long, slow thrusts.

With Murata's cock stimulating his prostate with each thrust, it didn't take long for Yuuri to reach his limit.

He came with a shout, crying Ken's name over and over, his fingers digging into Murata's pale shoulders. Hearing his given name on Yuuri's lips once more drove Murata over the edge, searing red streaks blurring his vision. Murata thrust a few more times to lengthen Yuuri's orgasm and then carefully pulled out and collapsed beside Yuuri on the bed, drenched with sweat and Yuuri's semen on his stomach.

They lay still on the bed, trying to catch their breath. A thought sneaked it's way into Yuuri's still glazed mind.

He sat straight up. "What if Mom heard us?" he whispered, frantically. Ken smiled. They heard Jennifer's voice echo up the stairs, "Ganbatte ne, Yuu-chan!" Yuuri turned red with embarrassment. Murata pulled him back down again and kissed him, leasurely.

"We might attempt to be quieter, next time," he said, his voice still husky.

Yuuri grinned, the embarrassment beginning to fade. There would be a next time. And a time after that. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to get back to Shin Makoku. And Murata would be coming with him, too. Yuuri sighed happily and leaned back into Murata's arms. It was good to be the Maoh, but mostly it was just as good to be plain Shibuya Yuuri.

Murata smiled into the fading light, the sunset just visible outside Yuuri's window. He had chased the sun, and finally caught up to it.