Perspective by Halrloprillalar / prillalar
Prince of Tennis, MomoKai, R, 600 words.
Momo grabs Kaidoh's ankle and yanks but the angle is wrong and Momo can't get any leverage, flat on his back on the floor. "Fucker," Kaidoh says, and Momo cranes his head back and looks at Kaidoh, up his thighs and chest and right on up his nose. Momo laughs and pulls again, both hands this time, and Kaidoh is obliging enough to fall over and asshole enough to nearly squash Momo when he does.
"Don't be so noisy," Kaidoh says, like he wasn't the one whose elbows thumped against the floor, and when Momo opens his mouth to retort, Kaidoh stops it with his tongue, which is more or less what Momo wanted in the first place, so he lets it go.
Momo edges himself out from under and pushes a knee between Kaidoh's thighs. He can feel the tremor roll through Kaidoh's body and into his own, then back and forth again, like some kind of wave amplification that Momo might know something about if he paid attention in science class. He licks the underside of Kaidoh's tongue and Kaidoh squirms closer; he has this whole thing about tongues. Momo doesn't, not especially, but he has a thing about dry humping and hand jobs so it all works out in the end.
He can't help making a sound in the back of his throat when he gets his dick up hard against Kaidoh's leg. Kaidoh tightens his fingers on Momo's shoulder and sucks on Momo's tongue. Then he moves too and they're jammed up close, rubbing their cocks together and pressing their faces into each other's necks. Momo sends a mental command to Kaidoh to pull back and give Momo some head, but that never works and Momo can't figure out any way to actually ask for it. And he's not going to go first.
Kaidoh's breath puffs down the collar of Momo's shirt and the hairs on the back of Momo's neck stand up. He runs his tongue around the folds of Kaidoh's ear and now Kaidoh is the one who can't keep quiet. When Momo sticks his tongue down inside the ear canal, Kaidoh hisses and jerks his hips. At least he didn't bite me this time, Momo thinks, and then the wave gets over-amplified and he comes and comes, all his muscles pulling tight and his breath trapped inside him and the air swimming in front of his eyes.
When he's empty, he sags, letting go and falling back onto the floor. "Bastard," Kaidoh says, and rocks up into Momo's thigh a few more times before he digs his fingernails into Momo's arm and shakes like he's seen a ghost.
Now Momo is warm and drowsy, with a sticky mess in his pants and the bitter taste of Kaidoh's earwax in his mouth. Kaidoh is half on top of him and Momo curls into him like he's a quilt on a January morning, ten minutes after Momo has to get up for school. He's half-asleep when Kaidoh pulls away. "No," Momo says and reaches out for him. "Don't leave."
And Kaidoh stops and Momo stops and the words hang in the air between them, growing bigger and pushing them further apart. "I--" Kaidoh says and looks away. He rolls to his feet and Momo can see right up his nose again. Kaidoh picks up his jacket and leaves, tripping over Momo's tennis bag and banging the door behind him.
"Fucking idiot," Momo says, to the ceiling, to the air, "fucking idiot." He rolls onto his side, back to the door, and thinks about all the girls he's going to ask out tomorrow.