![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
for setra's pr0ntober
"Your legs," Shiraishi starts off, which is always a bad sign. Chitose knows this is a bad sign because, despite being half asleep and draped all over Osamu's couch in an empty apartmen, he is a genius and a masterful sparkly rarely stoned genius at that. "Your legs are…" Shiraishi sighs, flails a hand in Chitose's direction, "totally gross, dude."
Chitose snickers into one of Osamu's vaguely sage smelling pillows and then turns his head so he can get a vague look at Shiraishi. Shiraishi is sprawled on the floor, a futon at his back, and a pillow under one arm. Shiraishi's yukata is rumbled, the dark grey fabric gaping enough that Chitose can see a long line of smooth, pale thigh before it disappears into shadow. Shadow, but not mystery, because Chitose has explored that hallowed, holy, hedonistic triangle between Shiraishi's thighs. "Mmm. C'mon they are not that bad." Chitose twists his head around to look over his shoulder, then gives up and just flops back on the couch. "I mean, they're not as bad as that old man's right?"
Shiraishi gave a dramatic shudder. "If you are going to wear yukata, shave or something." Shiraishi stretches out his legs and Chitose snickers again. Shiraishi doesn't shave, his hair is just fine, so baby fine and white that it only shows up in the right lighting. It's exotic, and perfectly Shiraishi. Ecstasy.
"We gonna close the window or anything?" Shiraishi asks, cicada still buzzing outside though the weather has begun to chill a little. Soon it'll be fall, and the festival's will all be over, and all Chitose will have to look forward to was the possibility of losing toes to frostbite because he refuses to abandon his geta.
"Naw." Chitose rolls off the couch, hits the floor with a thump. "Osamu's out and all, he won't complain about the buzzing." Osamu was giving Chitose a place to stay while he attended Shitenhouji, because Osamu was a cool guy like that and because Chitose's mom had bailed Osamu out of jail once or twice (or three times). "Hey, Shiraishi." Chitose rolled across the tatami and ended his dizzying maneuver at Shiraishi's feet.
"Yes, Chitose?" Shiraishi flexed his bare feet against Chitose's shoulder, unsurprised when Chitose rolled over one more time and captured Shiraishi's ankle in one large, bony hand. Chitose kissed Shiraishi's ankle, looking down the long smooth thigh and the amount of skin which had been exposed when Chitose had lifted Shiraishi's ankle up. Shiraishi's groin was no longer shadowed by the yukata, the fabric flipped back far enough to show off a pale hip, and surprisingly dark curls surrounding a flaccid cock.
"Hey. Do you mind if we get your yukata dirty?" Chitose runs a hand down Shiraishi's leg, raising goosebumps. "Cause I wanna fuck you with it on."
Shiraishi laughs, his eyes glinting slightly. He runs fingers through his hair, flipping it out of his face. "I'll ride you with it open, Chitose. Lay back down."
Chitose lies on the futon, helping Shiraishi arrange himself, letting Shiraishi undo Chitose's yukata and push it out of the way. Shiraishi slicks himself with plain, unscented, water soluble lube, lube that Chitose buys at the local conbini with a rather blank smile on his face. The grandmother behind the counter is always scandalized.
When Shiraishi slides down on Chitose, who is fully erect, red and glistening under the flickering yellow light, Shiraishi is half hard. Chitose wraps a hand around Shiraishi, strokes, enjoys the tight pinch of skin around Shiraishi's eyes when the pleasure of being filled and the pleasure of being stroked begins to take him over.
Chitose comes first, he warns Shiraishi of course and Shiraishi pulls off, let's Chitose finish himself off with his hand while Shiraishi kneels on Chitose's thighs and strokes himself. The yukata hangs open, and outside the sun has finally dropped behind the horizon.
When Shiraishi comes it's to the sound of cicadas and Chitose's panting breath, under a buzzing failing fluorescent light, and moon shine.
Chitose snickers into one of Osamu's vaguely sage smelling pillows and then turns his head so he can get a vague look at Shiraishi. Shiraishi is sprawled on the floor, a futon at his back, and a pillow under one arm. Shiraishi's yukata is rumbled, the dark grey fabric gaping enough that Chitose can see a long line of smooth, pale thigh before it disappears into shadow. Shadow, but not mystery, because Chitose has explored that hallowed, holy, hedonistic triangle between Shiraishi's thighs. "Mmm. C'mon they are not that bad." Chitose twists his head around to look over his shoulder, then gives up and just flops back on the couch. "I mean, they're not as bad as that old man's right?"
Shiraishi gave a dramatic shudder. "If you are going to wear yukata, shave or something." Shiraishi stretches out his legs and Chitose snickers again. Shiraishi doesn't shave, his hair is just fine, so baby fine and white that it only shows up in the right lighting. It's exotic, and perfectly Shiraishi. Ecstasy.
"We gonna close the window or anything?" Shiraishi asks, cicada still buzzing outside though the weather has begun to chill a little. Soon it'll be fall, and the festival's will all be over, and all Chitose will have to look forward to was the possibility of losing toes to frostbite because he refuses to abandon his geta.
"Naw." Chitose rolls off the couch, hits the floor with a thump. "Osamu's out and all, he won't complain about the buzzing." Osamu was giving Chitose a place to stay while he attended Shitenhouji, because Osamu was a cool guy like that and because Chitose's mom had bailed Osamu out of jail once or twice (or three times). "Hey, Shiraishi." Chitose rolled across the tatami and ended his dizzying maneuver at Shiraishi's feet.
"Yes, Chitose?" Shiraishi flexed his bare feet against Chitose's shoulder, unsurprised when Chitose rolled over one more time and captured Shiraishi's ankle in one large, bony hand. Chitose kissed Shiraishi's ankle, looking down the long smooth thigh and the amount of skin which had been exposed when Chitose had lifted Shiraishi's ankle up. Shiraishi's groin was no longer shadowed by the yukata, the fabric flipped back far enough to show off a pale hip, and surprisingly dark curls surrounding a flaccid cock.
"Hey. Do you mind if we get your yukata dirty?" Chitose runs a hand down Shiraishi's leg, raising goosebumps. "Cause I wanna fuck you with it on."
Shiraishi laughs, his eyes glinting slightly. He runs fingers through his hair, flipping it out of his face. "I'll ride you with it open, Chitose. Lay back down."
Chitose lies on the futon, helping Shiraishi arrange himself, letting Shiraishi undo Chitose's yukata and push it out of the way. Shiraishi slicks himself with plain, unscented, water soluble lube, lube that Chitose buys at the local conbini with a rather blank smile on his face. The grandmother behind the counter is always scandalized.
When Shiraishi slides down on Chitose, who is fully erect, red and glistening under the flickering yellow light, Shiraishi is half hard. Chitose wraps a hand around Shiraishi, strokes, enjoys the tight pinch of skin around Shiraishi's eyes when the pleasure of being filled and the pleasure of being stroked begins to take him over.
Chitose comes first, he warns Shiraishi of course and Shiraishi pulls off, let's Chitose finish himself off with his hand while Shiraishi kneels on Chitose's thighs and strokes himself. The yukata hangs open, and outside the sun has finally dropped behind the horizon.
When Shiraishi comes it's to the sound of cicadas and Chitose's panting breath, under a buzzing failing fluorescent light, and moon shine.