Tempting the Demon

Title: Tempting the Demon
Rating: NC17
Pairing: KiriMizu
Disclaimer: not mine, cool? cool.

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"Baka baka baka..." A young man muttered to himself, hitting his head of ebony curls again and again, trying very hard not to cry. "Akaya no baka."

"What's this now?" Mizuki said to himself, as he saw someone across the street from him, looking like the spitting image of himself, hitting himself on the head repeatedly. Quickly, he made sure there were no cars on the isolated road, and skipped his way across to the other man. "Hello there. My name is Mizuki Hajime."

Kirihara looked up, not really interested in whomever it was that had interrupted his self-abuse. When he saw Mizuki however, his jaw dropped open. "You look like.. like me!" he exclaimed. Mizuki "nhn"ed - Kirihara thought it was a disgusting sound.

"I saw you hitting your head. Is something the matter?"

"It's none of your business," Kirihara muttered darkly, remembering what had happened just a few minutes before. He had gone to Yanagi-senpai's dorm for his English tutoring as usual, and had seen, well, Sanada-fukubuchou and Yukimura-buchou there, and they'd been, well, yea. He'd been so careful to be irresistably cute when they were alone together, but now he knew why Yanagi-senpai never so much as looked at him.

"When you look so much like me, of course it's my business," Mizuki replied, starting to feel a little sorry for the man.

"That... makes no sense." Kirihara raised an eyebrow. This Mizuki person was crazy; Marui-senpai had warned him about those types before. He was supposed to treat them like he would a wild animal - appease him while backing away slowly.

"Of course it does," Mizuki insisted, taking a step closer to Kirihara. Kirihara fought the urge to back away.

"Look, could you just leave me alone?" he asked.

"I can pretend to."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'll stalk you."

Kirihara stared. This guy was clearly way crazier than anyone Marui-senpai had ever met. He wished one of his senpai were there; they'd scare him away. He was clearly on his own though. "Um.." He started walking - they would soon reach a more populated street, and he could at least yell for help if nothing else.

Mizuki seemed to suddenly notice the black tennis bag slung over his shoulder. "Say, do you play tennis?" he asked.

"Uhm, yes?" OK, maybe this guy was one of his admirers, pretending to not know him. They tried that sometimes. They were pretty crazy, too.

"Play a game with me."

"Why should I?" OK, or not. Maybe he was just plain crazy. No one ever challenged Rikkai University's Kirihara Akaya to a tennis match if they knew what was good for them.

"If you win, you get one request from me. If I win, I get one from you."

That sounded good to Kirihara. He couldn't lose to this maniac. Even good players, in their right minds, couldn't beat him (except Sanada-fukubuchou in SOSA mode, because that was just simply crazy.) "Fine. There's a street tennis court near here; we'll have a one set match there."

Mizuki grinned and followed behind Kirihara. He'd bought the perfect tennis outfit just yesterday and had it on underneath his street clothes - he'd been headed to the Fuji household to show Yuuta, but he could test it out on this person first. "You know, it's not polite to play against someone without telling him your name," he said.

"Kirihara Akaya."

Mizuki's heart skipped a beat. "Kirihara... Akaya?" he repeated, somewhat dumbly. Kirihara inwardly grinned. It sounded like this person had heard of him. "Not Rikkai University's Kirihara Akaya?"

"The one and only," Kirihara smirked, setting down his bags by the side of the court. Quickly stepping into the changing room next to the court, he changed into his tennis clothes and returned to the court. What met his eyes there stopped him dead in his tracks.

Mizuki was wearing... something, but it sure as hell wasn't tennis clothing. Not the kind normal men wore, anyway. Actually, not the kind any man wore, in fact. At least, Kirihara didn't know any man that wore purple, skin-tight short shorts and matching tank top, both most likely spandex, except those skinny people on the track team, and even their uniforms weren't that tight. The top looked maybe two, three sizes too small for Mizuki also, stretching tightly across his chest, with the bottom hem barely touching the waistband of his shorts. That would doubtless translate into a lot of belly flashing during a match.

Kirihara gulped, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t jerked off all week, and his cock was feeling rather neglected. Mizuki smiled. "Let's play," he purred. "Smooth or rough?"

"Rough," Kirihara practically squeaked as he forced himself over to his gear and picked up his racket. He was a healthy, gay, twenty-year-old man, and his body reacted to certain things, like men with athletic builds wearing seducing clothes proposing a tennis match.

Mizuki spun his racket, and Kirihara stopped breathing when he bent over to check how the racket landed. Mizuki didn’t kneel or anything normal like that, oh no, he spread his legs and bent over at the waist, stretching the material of his shorts just so over his perky ass. “Rough,” he called.

“I’ll take service,” he all but moaned.

“Then I’ll take this court,” Mizuki happily hopped into the receiving position on the court he was already on. As much of a tensai as everyone said he was, and as much as he still wanted Yanagi-senpai, Kirihara’s libido couldn’t help but swear that Mizuki was trying to get himself raped right then and there on the court.

“Love-all.” With a sudden burst of willpower, Kirihara repressed all thoughts of spandex clothing and perky rears, and focused on the tennis ball in his hand.

Mizuki smiled. He had wanted to experiment this on Fuji, but Rikkai’s Kirihara presented him with equally useful data. Perhaps St. Rudolph needed a new uniform designed right away. He returned Kirihara’s weak serve easily, making sure to flash a lot of skin when he did so. The ball landed in the opposite court, but there was no one there to receive it. Confused, Mizuki looked around – opponents abandoning the game had not been a part of his calculations.

Kirihara snapped. His will only lasted him through the serve – when Mizuki had given him a full view of the smooth, pale skin stretched across his flat stomach, his erection hardened almost immediately, as if saying “try to repress me, jackass.” Dropping his racket, he darted around the court. Just as Mizuki caught the flash of black hair out the corner of his eye, Kirihara had grabbed his wrist and dragged him inside the locker room.

“You know you were begging for trouble when you put that on, right?” Kirihara whispered as he shoved Mizuki up against the closed door. He made sure his now fully hard cock ground against Mizuki’s crotch, and was slightly relieved to feel a hard bulge greeting him in return.

Mizuki moaned. “Yea,” he said, “I just didn’t know it would work so well.” He had, in fact, only expected to perhaps distract Fuji from his game a little. He didn’t expect Kirihara to completely lose control, but he liked this outcome even better than the predicted one. He was such a genius at getting what he wanted.

Kirihara growled, leaning in to lick Mizuki’s slightly parted lips. “You do have lube somewhere, right?” he muttered before biting the lower lip softly. Mizuki reached behind the row of lockers next to the door and pulled out a small tube. Kirihara raised an eyebrow, but decided against asking. Instead, he slid both hands underneath Mizuki’s tank top, making sure to rub against the man’s nipples before pushing the shirt upwards. Mizuki gasped, obediently lifting his arms. Kirihara pulled away from Mizuki’s mouth so he could rid the man of the ridiculously tight top, before leaning in again. This time, he skipped the games and started kissing Mizuki, licking and pushing at his lips until they opened and let him in.

Mizuki moaned into Kirihara’s mouth, knees about to give way as Kirihara’s skillful tongue continued their ministrations. Kirihara tugged at his shorts until they lay pooled around his ankles. Taking the lube from Mizuki, he unscrewed the top and coated three fingers with the gel. Encircling Mizuki’s waist with his arm, he probed around the man’s ass before pushing his index finger in.

“Kirihara,” Mizuki gasped, breaking from the kiss only to have Kirihara latch onto the spot underneath his ear, where his jaws hinged, licking and sucking. “Oohhh,” he moaned, as Kirihara began circling his finger inside his ass, rubbing and stretching the muscles. “Ohhhh damn you’re ahhh…” he started to say as Kirihara inserted a second finger. He thrust back on those fingers, pushing them deeper, until they rubbed there, sending a white-hot jolt of pleasure wracking through his body. He shrieked.

Kirihara immediately muffled the shriek with his mouth. When Mizuki quieted, helpless in the face of the pleasurable onslaught both in his mouth and in his ass, Kirihara broke the kiss, murmuring, “Now, now, no need to announce our activities to the neighborhood,” as he added a third finger to the first two. Mizuki, unable to scream anymore, moaned wantonly, bouncing on his knees, trying to get those fingers deeper, moving faster, harder. They brushed against his prostate again, and he wanted more.

“Akayaaaaaaa,” Mizuki wailed, as Kirihara withdrew his fingers and quickly stripped off his shorts. He squeezed some more lube onto his hand and rubbed it quickly over his leaking hard-on, before rubbing his body against Mizuki’s. Steadying Mizuki's waist with one hand and bracing the other against the smooth door, he slowly pushed the head of his cock inside the still-tight ring of muscle around Mizuki’s opening, holding his breath as the sensations rolled over him. Mizuki was tight – so tight, so hot, so good –and he wanted more. With a snap of his hips, he was all the way inside the man.

“Ah ah AHHHHH~!” Mizuki was overcome with sensation – first a jolt of pain at the suddenness of the thick intrusion, which was quickly replaced by such a feeling of fullness that tears came to his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Kirihara’s (still dressed) shoulders, grasping onto the cloth on Kirihara’s back and squeezed his eyes shut, intoxicated with sheer pleasure, unable to register anything else in his mind but the feeling of Kirihara deep inside him. He vaguely heard Kirihara gasping his name, but it somehow sounded so far away. He pulled a foot out of his shorts and wrapped his leg around Kirihara’s rear, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel more of him inside.

Kirihara blinked rapidly, gasping for breath as he paused. Mizuki was contracting and releasing his ass muscles, hot sheath squeezing his painfully hard cock, sending bursts of pleasure along his groin, making his entire body feel so hot. Slowly, he pulled out, Mizuki’s rear squeezing him tightly the whole length, and he snapped forward again, and rocked as he started licking the man’s neck, hand squeezing gently at Mizuki's hip.

“Oh Akaya, oh oh oh that’s ahhhhh so gooooooooddddd,” Mizuki drew out, as Kirihara continued rocking and thrusting and rubbing his prostate and pounding him into the door and oh it was just so good, and then Kirihara grabbed his cock and started stroking it and oh Gods it’d been too long since he’d last had such unpredictable sex and he was going to come any minute, but so long as he’d been uke, he’d never come without making sure his partner did also.

He lowered a hand and stuck a finger inside Kirihara’s ass. Kirihara yelped and thrust forward, deep and hard, just as his hands squeezed tightly along his cock, sending Mizuki spiraling into orgasm, but even as he screamed and came, he managed to quickly pulled his finger out and felt warm come spurting into his ass as Kirihara joined him in the deepest throes of pleasure.

Panting, they stood there for a long heartbeat, Mizuki still tightly grasping fistfuls of Kirihara’s now-wrinkled uniform, leg still encircling his waist. Slowly, his leg dropped to the floor, as his arms released their grip. “This, never happened,” Kirihara muttered. Mizuki nodded, bending over to pick up his tank top and shorts. He could feel Kirihara’s come leaking from his ass, and wasn’t sure he liked the idea of pretending their meeting never existed. But of course he would. He’d return to St. Rudolph, and Kirihara would return to Rikkai. He’d make sure St. Rudolph got new uniforms though – definitely before their next match against Rikkai.

Kirihara pulled on his shorts again, and left the room before Mizuki finished pulling on his shorts. If he were someone else, maybe he’d feel guilty about using someone, and then leaving him, but he was Kirihara, the genius ace, and he didn’t care about stuff like that. Still, he wondered why walking away felt like the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

"So who won?" Mizuki called from the doorway.

Kirihara turned, feeling a smile overtaking his face. "I think you did," he replied.

"I think I get a reward then, don't I?" Mizuki asked, smiling back.

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It's ridiculous. And it doesn’t make much sense. =P Comment if you liked?