Hands by Halrloprillalar / prillalar
Prince of Tennis, InuKai, 600 words, PG.
Inui can't help himself.
They've been in Inui's room half an hour and Inui has already touched Kaidoh sixteen times. He can't help himself: a hand on Kaidoh's shoulder, fingers on his arm, knees bumping together. It's new to Inui, this itch under his skin, this impulse he can't control. He breathes a little faster, talks a little more, and his hands keep reaching out before he can pull them back.
Kaidoh doesn't notice. He hunches forward over the manual Inui gave him, eyes on the page, hands on the page. Inui bends down, closer to the skin over Kaidoh's collar, to the hair brushing his neck. He breathes in, body heat and fabric softener, and it sends a shiver through his chest and gut and groin.
His fingers stretch to hook under the collar, to slide down Kaidoh's throat, and Inui knows that's too much, it's not the way he should be touching Kaidoh, even once, but he wants it. His hands want it, his body wants it. Inui clenches his fingers into his palm, but they curl out again, Inui breathes in again, and he stops trying to stop.
Kaidoh turns his head. Inui stops. Kaidoh's face is five centimetres away, maybe four and a half. Inui can see the pores on Kaidoh's nose, the dent above his upper lip, an eyelash on his cheek. Blood fills Inui's head, his throat swells, he doesn't move. Kaidoh doesn't move. "Senpai," Kaidoh says, and his breath is hot on Inui's mouth.
Inui jerks back, pulls his hands in close to his body. Kaidoh hisses and hunches down again. He stares at the manual. His hands are fists. "Excuse me," Inui says, and leaves the room.
In the bathroom, he splashes water on his face and rubs it with a towel until it stings. He wants to go, to leave Kaidoh in his room and run. He stops outside the door and counts to fifty before he goes back in.
Kaidoh doesn't look up. Inui sits down on the floor, further away than before, and picks up the notes he's working on. He can hear Kaidoh breathing. He reads the same line four times. It makes no sense.
"Inui-senpai," Kaidoh says and Inui looks up. "This formation, could you..."
"What is it?" Inui says and Kaidoh lunges at him, grabs his shoulders, presses his mouth against Inui's. The notes crumple in Inui's hand. Kaidoh forces Inui back against the side of the bed, he kisses Inui again, pushing at Inui's lips until Inui opens his mouth.
Inui opens his mouth. He kisses back, his skin stinging all over, his arms trapped at his sides. He doesn't know what he's doing, he hasn't thought that far ahead, but he moves his mouth like Kaidoh does and feels a shout pressing at his lungs, trying to be heard.
Kaidoh pulls back, lets Inui go. Inui wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Kaidoh," he says and it's almost hard to talk with the smile that stretches his cheeks. "Where did you learn how to do that?"
Kaidoh's face goes red, his fists clench. He jumps up and scrambles for his bag, cramming his books inside it.
"Wait," Inui says, but Kaidoh goes, slamming the door like a slap in Inui's face. Inui doesn't run after him. He pulls his knees up to his chest, to keep it from opening up. He wonders who else Kaidoh's been kissing. He wonders if he cares.
Inui gets out his mobile and sends a text: I'm sorry. There's no reply.
The next day at school, Kaidoh asks Inui for advice on his serve. They work on it for most of the practice.
Inui keeps his hands to himself.
Comments of any kind are always welcome.