Major Tags: None. Other Tags: very slight sexual content and innuendo Word Count: 412 words
***
The taste of chlorine stings Sousuke’s lungs as he kisses Haru. It’s not quite right. Haru should taste of the ocean, some romantic part of him insists, but Haru tastes-smells of chlorine and his arms are wet and pliable under Sousuke’s hands.
When Sousuke pushes him against the wall, Haru doesn’t resist. He tilts his head up and goes with it, the way he lets the waves carry him in the ocean - and then he kisses back, sharp and incisive, the way his arms move through water.
Sousuke could drown in Haru’s kisses, in the press of his lean body against Sousuke’s, in the possessive way that Haru grabs his hair and yanks Sousuke’s head forward like the kiss still isn’t enough.
It’s the only time that Haru makes sense to him. It’s the only time he doesn’t think of Rin.
Sousuke brackets Haru with his arms, taking a secret pleasure out of being able to pin Haru with his weight alone, and grinds forward against him.
Haru freezes and panicked, Sousuke pulls back, wondering if that was too much.
“I’m--” he starts to say, apology already on his lips.
“Someone’s coming,” Haru says and slips back into his own shower cubicle.
*
The taste of chlorine is easy to wash out of his mouth, just as easy as it is to wash away all traces of Sousuke’s saliva. Haru rinses and spits, pushing dripping wet hair away from his face and watching Sousuke in the mirror. Sousuke’s getting dressed, laughing and talking with the others.
They both know better than to leave marks when they strip down to swimwear so often; there’s not a single lovebite, a single bruise, to mark where Haru’s been. If Sousuke is easy to erase from Haru’s life, Haru is just as easy to erase.
Rin proved that when he left. He hasn’t written to Haru in the longest time and whenever Haru picks up a pen to write to Rin, he never makes it more than a few lines.
He hasn’t told Rin about Sousuke yet. He doesn’t think he’s going to.
“Want to walk home with me, Haru?” Makoto asks gently, jolting Haru out of his thoughts. Haru shakes his head numbly. “No. I’m going to get something to eat first.”
“Just as long as it’s not more mackerel,” Makoto teases.
“No,” Haru says, and steals another look at the tempting mass of hard, lean muscle that is Sousuke. “Red meat this time.”
FILL: TEAM PRINCE OF TENNIS, T
Other Tags: very slight sexual content and innuendo
Word Count: 412 words
***
The taste of chlorine stings Sousuke’s lungs as he kisses Haru. It’s not quite right. Haru should taste of the ocean, some romantic part of him insists, but Haru tastes-smells of chlorine and his arms are wet and pliable under Sousuke’s hands.
When Sousuke pushes him against the wall, Haru doesn’t resist. He tilts his head up and goes with it, the way he lets the waves carry him in the ocean - and then he kisses back, sharp and incisive, the way his arms move through water.
Sousuke could drown in Haru’s kisses, in the press of his lean body against Sousuke’s, in the possessive way that Haru grabs his hair and yanks Sousuke’s head forward like the kiss still isn’t enough.
It’s the only time that Haru makes sense to him. It’s the only time he doesn’t think of Rin.
Sousuke brackets Haru with his arms, taking a secret pleasure out of being able to pin Haru with his weight alone, and grinds forward against him.
Haru freezes and panicked, Sousuke pulls back, wondering if that was too much.
“I’m--” he starts to say, apology already on his lips.
“Someone’s coming,” Haru says and slips back into his own shower cubicle.
*
The taste of chlorine is easy to wash out of his mouth, just as easy as it is to wash away all traces of Sousuke’s saliva. Haru rinses and spits, pushing dripping wet hair away from his face and watching Sousuke in the mirror. Sousuke’s getting dressed, laughing and talking with the others.
They both know better than to leave marks when they strip down to swimwear so often; there’s not a single lovebite, a single bruise, to mark where Haru’s been. If Sousuke is easy to erase from Haru’s life, Haru is just as easy to erase.
Rin proved that when he left. He hasn’t written to Haru in the longest time and whenever Haru picks up a pen to write to Rin, he never makes it more than a few lines.
He hasn’t told Rin about Sousuke yet. He doesn’t think he’s going to.
“Want to walk home with me, Haru?” Makoto asks gently, jolting Haru out of his thoughts. Haru shakes his head numbly. “No. I’m going to get something to eat first.”
“Just as long as it’s not more mackerel,” Makoto teases.
“No,” Haru says, and steals another look at the tempting mass of hard, lean muscle that is Sousuke. “Red meat this time.”