nc-17 “Hiruma…” Kurita murmured drunkenly, stumbling through the darkened halls of the school. He didn’t quite remember how he had gotten there from the auditorium. There was a vague recollection of someone asking where the quarterback was, and Kurita being such a nice boy took it upon himself to find the fiendish man.
Of course, he was a bit drunk after he and Kuroki had engaged in several bets (all of which ended in drinking punch if you lost). Not that Kuroki had gotten away scot-free, but that was another story altogether.
He noticed a door that was partway opened and peered inside… to find the very quarterback he had been looking for, intertwined with none other than Anezaki Mamori. And they were… naked. Could it be..? Kurita gaped for a moment, “Hi…Hi… Hiruma..?!” It wasn’t very loud, kind of a strained whisper. Hiruma’s ears twitched and he lazily opened his eyes.
“Where..?” He started, still a bit disoriented. His body hurt, and he was sitting on something cold and hard… and he noticed that he felt like he was naked. No, wait. He was naked. He would have bolted upright, but at about the same time that he noticed his nudity, he also realized that there were arms wrapped around his torso. A woman’s arms.
Mamori’s arms.
“Fuck.” He cursed softly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His head was pounding ever so slightly… he’d had too much to drink, clearly. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel much regret in having slept with the girl, just regret in having done it while drunk. Not that he didn’t remember, oh, no. He remembered every moment, every scream, every clench… he just would have preferred it sober.
Mainly because he hated headaches. And the fear that was prickling the very base of his brain was that she’d wake up and hate herself for it later. He didn’t know what kind of drunk she was, or if she had really wanted him to fuck her, but it’s really hard to refuse a woman who’s pretty much demanding you take her, take her now, and other such… fuck, his body… he was getting aroused just thinking about it. Carefully, he peeled her arms off of his chest and maneuvered it so she was hugging to his waist so he could sit up. And goddamn his penis for being so quick to respond… he grumbled incoherently as he scanned for something to cover up with, and looked up to see Kurita’s horrified expression.
“Calm down, fucking fatass.” He said a lot calmer than he actually felt. “She asked for it. It’s not like I raped her.” Kurita sighed in relief, and Hiruma was able to lift one of his long legs up and kick the lineman in the shin, “What’s with the relief, fatass?! I’m not a fucking rapist!”
“I know, Hiruma-kun, but I was just worried since I knew you liked her…”
“You knew?” Hiruma blinked, then. “Was it that obvious?”
“Not really.” The larger man smiled, “I just know you a little better than the others. I think Musashi could tell, too.”
“Musashi’s a fucking nutcase.” Hiruma muttered, recalling the sloppy kiss from before. He finally located his discarded trousers and balled them up, on his crotch. There, that way his damnable ‘morning wood’ wouldn’t poke Anezaki in the face. A small smile manifested itself on his lips. Damn, that… that had been pretty amazing.
“Well, I’m glad you finally consummated something with her.” Kurita said happily. “It’s about time.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” The blond man raised an arched eyebrow. Kurita only smiled in reply, which caused Hiruma to frown a little deeper. He leaned back against the wall, his hand absently finding Mamori’s head and gently stroking her hair. He grinned again, but it was a little less evil and a little more dopey. He started remembering in better detail what had happened. Hiruma leaned in and nibbled on her bottom lip some, and murmured something about how he had won something more important than the Christmas Bowl on this night. He kissed her again, intrigued by the feeling of having a swarm of butterflies in his heart and stomach. It was interesting, and he noted that it surged every time she made a little whimpering noise or begged for something. The overwhelming desire for skin to skin contact seemed to come from nowhere, but he couldn’t just ignore it. It was like he needed to feel how soft it was, trace his fingertips over it, make her writhe with his very touch. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. And who was he to deny this to himself? He sat back reluctantly, not wanting to lose contact with her lips, but far too curious not to want to look at her. His hands had started to caress her, hiking her dress up to expose an incredibly sexy, delicate lace thong.
“Holy shit.” He breathed, feeling a wave of tingling start in his chest and wash over him, zeroing in at his groin. Oh… he wanted to do things to her, and badly. She looked up at him, face flushed, eyes as innocent as they could be.
“Hiruma-kun..?”
“F… Fucking Anezaki….” he whispered breathlessly, “I want to…”
“I want you to, too.” she replied to him, tugging his shirt out of his pants, effectively pulling him down for another kiss and also running her smaller hands over his heated skin, slipping just into the top of his pants for a light squeeze of his ass. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, smirking deviously at her. She smiled back, her fingers undoing each button of his shirt. When it was open, she pulled it off, taking in his lithe figure with her lust-darkened eyes. He ran a hand up her leg, reaching around to give her a squeeze, appreciating the softness of her skin.
“You’re sure, right?” He asked, unsure if he’d passed the point of no return and these were just pleasantries exchanged to make the morning a little less awkward- not that he was thinking that far ahead (for once).
“Hiruma, I want you. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you, right here, right now.” The way she said that, so raw and unabashed… he didn’t even want to remember that it if she hadn’t drank, none of this would be happening. Let’s hear it for drinking away inhibitions. He didn’t give himself much more time to convince himself not to do what he was about to do. He plunged forward for another heated kiss, another chance for his long fingers to ghost over her sweat-dampened skin. Those same fingers quested back to find the zipper of the dress she was wearing, loosening the garment so it fell from her shoulders to expose that she was, in fact, wearing a matching lace bra. He started planting light kisses on her belly button, hands resting one her hips, moving upwards slowly. Burying his face in her cleavage, he took in her scent and traced his hands up her sides and around to her back to unclasp the delicate-looking undergarment, letting it fall from her shoulders.
He let his hands cup her breasts, kneading them gently as he kissed his way up to her neck, chin, lips. She was letting out the most irresistible whimpers…
“Goddamn it, fucking manager…” he murmured, nipping at the juncture of her jaw and ear. “You’ve got me right where you fucking want me, don’t you?” He felt spellbound by her. Her response was to reach down and begin to work on losing those pesky pants. He grinned widely at this, both amused and surprised at her forwardness.
It had to be the alcohol, and while there was a voice in the farthest reached of his mind telling him that he should probably wait until they were sober, it was easily masked by the incredible urges coursing through his body as she tugged the pants down enough to reach inside, fingers wrapping around his throbbing erection.
“Not quite…” she said, laughter sparkling in her eyes, cheeks painted bright red. She teased him, stroking his length in soft, gentle motions.
“F-fuck…” He stuttered, hooking a finger under the elastic of her panties and pulling them to the side. He couldn’t wait any longer… he needed to be inside her, and fast. He positioned her so she was on her back, her legs spread in a standard missionary pose. He kissed her again, sliding the tip of his cock into her. “Ah… so wet…” he sighed, pushing his length in slowly.
“Ahh… Yo… Youichi…” she moaned, her hands reaching out and grabbing his hips, gripping them tightly. Her face was a mixture of pleasure and pain that the quarterback was somewhat perplexed by. Pain? He didn’t stop, however. This was truly the point of no return… there was no force on the planet that would be able to stop him.
When he was finally sheathed completely within her, he paused and marveled at the feeling of being inside her, feeling her heartbeat against him… he pressed his lips against hers once again and started moving back out, creating a friction that far surpassed anything he’d ever done on his own. He pushed back in, and let out a quiet gasp. His movements were jerky and unpracticed, but neither cared at the present moment. Nothing was important right now unless it was there, in between them. He tried to kiss her, but it was a little hard to do that and move his hips, he found. He almost laughed when their teeth bumped, but that was easily dispelled when he felt her experimentally clench her muscles down there.
“Holy fuck, do… do that again…” He groaned, and she did. If there was a heaven, it was right here. He was convinced. She writhed beneath him as his thrusts became faster and slightly more erratic, trying to find the perfect combination of friction and speed. His hands found her breasts again, squeezing them for support, he leaned down to kiss her neck. He honestly felt like he could live off of those little sounds escaping her parted lips. The thrusts got faster, faster, and she was begging for them.
“Faster, harder… oh, God, Youichi… deeper…” He never would have imagined to hear such things escape her lips. “Ah… yes… more…”
“Nngh, fucking manager… I’m gonna…” he warned, feeling that familiar tightening. He wasn’t fast enough, though. He felt the proverbial dam burst soon after uttering his pseudo warning, and he felt his body shudder with each spurt. He was snapped out of his reverie by her stirrings in his lap (which didn’t help matters much at this point). He hissed at Kurita to get out of the room before she woke, being at least wise enough to know she wouldn’t want anyone else to see her in that position. The lineman nodded and retreated, closing the door quietly as he did so.
“Where… am I..?” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes.
“We’re in the gym storage room, fucking manager.” Hiruma said in a neutral tone. She sat up then, surprised to have been asleep near him and she realized something.
“Hi… Hiruma-kun, why am I… naked..?” she asked carefully.
“You don’t remember?” the blond quarterback asked, cocking his head to the side with a confused expression on his face (although how genuine it was was difficult to tell). “We fucked.” “Wha… what..?” If she hadn’t shot up enough before… “You’re kidding, right?”
And with that, his worst fears were realized. He felt an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, constricting his heart. A broken heart? Could it be? Well, that answered one question; he wasn’t heartless. He frowned.
“No, I’m not. You rode my cock all night, fucking manager.” He said in an attempt to regain some sense of normalcy.
“Oh, god. Did you… did you at least use a condom?” She looked at him with a look of sheer terror in her eyes.
“Uh…” he paused and tried to remember. Had he? “Yeah.” He said, regardless of if he could remember or not… Fuck, fuck, fuck… she hadn’t really wanted him? “Sorry. I shouldn’t have fucked you even though you were begging for my cock like it would save your life.” He tried again to lighten the mood. For his sanity, mainly… well, what was left. He frowned then, apparently deep in thought. It was then that he felt Mamori squeeze his waist, and he looked down at her, confused. And this time, it was definitely genuine.
“HA. I FINALLY GOT YOU, HIRUMA-KUN!” Mamori exclaimed with a huge, victorious grin that could rival one of his own.
“…Fucking manager…” he said in an annoyed voice as he rubbed his temples. “I’ve really rubbed off on you, huh?”
“Kekeke.” she imitated his cackle with a bright, semi-innocent smile.
“Just for that, I’m going to fuck you again…” he murmured, pushing her down on the floor.