Ryou was aware that he and Choutarou were both still grinning when they got back from the music store and closed the door of his room. It was probably just as well that his parents had taken the day to go shopping as well. Who knew what his mother would make of their expressions. Just to be on the safe side, he locked the door anyway.

“So,” Choutarou spoke from the window near the bed, without turning, “we aren’t in public now.” Ryou’s grin quirked, remembering what he had said to Choutarou’s teasing in the store. If we weren’t in public…

“No, we’re not,” he agreed, eyeing his partner.

Choutarou pulled his shirt over his head in a long stretch, and let it fall from his arms. Ryou caught sight of a tiny smile on his partner’s lips as Choutarou turned his head, not quite far enough to look at Ryou over his shoulder. So, Choutarou wanted to tease him a little more. No one else would ever believe it of his reserved and proper partner, he reflected. Ryou crossed the room to stand behind Choutarou and laid his hands flat on his partner’s stomach, sweeping them up to his chest, feeling Choutarou’s sigh through his palms. Ryou bent his head just slightly to press his lips to the sleek curve of Choutarou’s neck and shoulder.

“Ryou,” Choutarou murmured. His name, in that tone, was an invitation, and Ryou let his hands drift back down to finger the waist of Choutarou’s jeans, unzip them, slip inside to brush against the heat of his partner’s skin.

Choutarou laid his own hands flat against the wall in front of him, leaning forward. The line of his body, his hips rocking back against Ryou’s made Ryou stop and swallow a little hard.

“Choutarou,” he said, softly, leaning against his partner’s back. Did Choutarou mean what Ryou thought he did?

“Not slowly, Ryou,” Choutarou whispered. “Not today.”

Apparently he did. Choutarou’s straightforward sensuality could still surprise him, sometimes. Well, all right, then. Ryou stood back a little and brushed his fingers down Choutarou’s spine to hook jeans and underwear together, and pull them down. Choutarou arched into the touch, sucking in an audible breath, tossing his head back.

Ryou thought he probably set a new speed record stripping off his own clothes, and his hands were shaking just a bit as he fished out the bottle that usually lived in an empty tennis ball can, where his mother would hopefully not find it. He pressed Choutarou closer to the wall.

Choutarou spread his legs further apart and rested his head against his forearms, crossed on the wall in front of him. They were both breathing faster, now. Ryou dropped a light kiss on the nape of Choutarou’s neck, where the silver hair curled under. He ran a slick hand up the inside of Choutarou’s thigh, between his cheeks, and rubbed softly. Choutarou tensed slightly, pressed back into Ryou’s touch. Ryou bit his lip at his partner’s low moan, leaned against the line of Choutarou’s body, enjoying the velvet warmth of their skin brushing together down chest and leg. Remembering that Choutarou didn’t want to wait, he pressed his fingers deep into his partner’s body. Deep, but still slow. Slow enough not to hurt, he hoped. Choutarou’s moan was no longer low, and it distracted Ryou as much as the burning heat of Choutarou’s body.

“Ryou, now,” Choutarou said, soft and husky. A hoarse sound slipped past Ryou’s lips; Choutarou asking for his touch still turned him inside out.

Ryou took a deep breath and drove into his partner, biting his lip harder to keep from forcing himself past the resistance of Choutarou’s body too fast. Sparks ran over him, through him as Choutarou relaxed and opened under him, and finally he felt the sweat-damp softness of Choutarou’s skin all against his own. He wound an arm around his lover, other hand reaching between Choutarou’s legs again, and felt his partner shaking.

Choutarou’s light voice whispered pleas and encouragement as Ryou rocked out and back in, fondling Choutarou, licking the salt from the back of his neck. The taste and sound drew Ryou on, and he was sliding, deep, fast, driving Choutarou against the wall, into Ryou’s hand. Heat gripped him, not letting go, hard, and Ryou was pulling in breaths through the filter of Choutarou’s hair. Faster, and Choutarou cried out. The sound, and the feather of Choutarou’s hair brushing Ryou’s temple as his partner threw his head back completed some circuit in Ryou, driving, reaching, touching lightning that struck down through him. It left him shaking, nerves singed by it.

They collapsed, slowly, to the floor, and Ryou leaned his head on Choutarou’s shoulder, panting. Choutarou’s soft laugh caught his wandering, and slightly dazed, attention.

“What?” he asked, voice a bit rough still. Choutarou turned his head to look at him, brown eyes light and soft with pleasure and amusement.

“I should tease you more often,” he told Ryou.

Ryou buried his head against his partner’s neck again, laughing.

End

Branch: *casts eye back over ShishiTori branch* You made me do all that just to get a PWP?

Ohtori: *apologetic* Do you mind terribly, Madam? We do appreciate it so much.

Branch: *opens mouth, closes it again* … *looks at Shishido*

Shishido: *leans chair back on two legs, smirking*

Branch: *sighs* No, Choutarou, I don’t mind as much as all that.

Shishido: *grins* They fall for it every time. It’s the eyes.

Branch: *glares* You just watch it, boyo, or I really will write that “affair at a summer seminar”. *yells into next room* And Roy! Quit teaching Choutarou your vocabulary! He’s too young.

Roy: *lounging in doorway* Nonsense, Madam. He’s a natural.

Shishido: *narrow look* Oi.