Summary: Understanding isn't shown only through comfortable silence...
Categories: Gen Characters: *Ibu Shinji, *Kamio Akira
Chapters: 2 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2688 Read: 17224
Published: 07/09/08 Updated: 07/09/08
1. Raison D'etre ~A Reason to Exist~ by Nori
1. Chapter 1 by Mei
Raison D'etre ~A Reason to Exist~ by Nori
For the life of him Atobe Keigo could simply not understand how he'd managed to get into a relationship like this. Kamio Akira was loud and at times quite annoying, as well as quite prone to pulling idiotic stunts time and again. But under that, somewhere he'd come to know the real Kamio --short-tempered, adventurous, outgoing, a hell of a sense of humour and someone with a strong sense of who he was; an individual in a crowd who cared deeply about those he loved and would fight to the death for them.
He'd noticed random things about Kamio during his rather unannounced trips to the street courts, generally staying to the sidelines to watch the firey redhead whom on first meeting he'd completely ignored. It wasn't until he'd found himself returning on a regular basis did Atobe begin to think that anything was off.
How could this scrawny excuse for a boy, this plebeian piece of nothing more that street trash catch his undivided attention? A question Atobe wasn't sure he'd ever know the answer to.
He loved the way Kamio moved beneath him, lithe form stretching and pale skin flushing beneath the actions of tongue, lip or hand; he surprised yelps turned moans he was rewarded with each time he managed to sneak up behind the redhead and sink his teeth into the delicate curve of the younger teen's neck.
"N, no! Stop, my mom'll be home soon and --" Akira's whine ended on a small moan. Atobe didn't particularly care if the boy's mother would be back or not, he had things to take care of. Very rarely did he actually go to Kamio's home for one of their meetings (what if someone were to see? It wouldn't be something easily explained even for Atobe himself), but today he'd felt something of adventurous.
Hands worked along bare skin, a cocky smirk curled over Atobe's lips as he hovered over the redhead. "She won't even notice you're home if you keep your mouth shut." He murmured, head ducking to lap at a flat nipple; nipping, biting and licking across Kamio's chest. Predictably Kamio did just the opposite, voice raising as hands stroked down slender muscles and slid under his shorts to grasp his obvious erection.
Kamio writhed beneath the older teen, breaths coming in pants and slender hands clawing at the sheets of his bed. Fucking Atobe always did this to him -- got him so worked up he barely had a choice in whether it was right or wrong, whether he should be doing this right now, whether he could hold back begs and pleas for more of sweet touches; that he wanted to be kissed, held or taken and made completely into Atobe's own.
Atobe smirked at that -- the redhead always seemed so ready and willing for whatever he had planned for him. Lips dragged over Kamio's chest as his hand worked along the boy's length, touches light and teasing along rigid flesh. But for once he figured he might as well play nice -- he really would like to see Kamio again in this lifetime and that future wasn't certain should Kamio-san really come home while they were, for lack of a better word, busy.
His hand pulled away to tug the shorts over the smaller teen's hips and his body shifted back, the annoying clothing pulled all the way off and tossed onto the floor. Much, much better. Kamio noticed the almost devious glint in Atobe's eye, teeth working over his lower lip in a vague attempt at keeping quiet. Cobalt orbs peered up at the other teen, cheeks stained a rosy pink and breaths becoming something of drawn out.
Thinking for a moment Atobe reached over the side of the bed, fumbling around beneath it until he found a small box he'd given the other teen at one point. Plenty of neccessary items; some weird expensive lubrication and condoms mostly -- Kamio had offered to go and buy them himself but Atobe had insisted on having nothing but the best . Kamio hadn't understood at first why they needed condoms anyway, they were both guys and it wasn't like he could get pregnant or anything but Atobe had quickly summed it up for him: he wasn't going to put himself at possible risk of catching anything.
Attention caught by a small whine Atobe smiled and pulled several items free, condom set aside in favour of tipping the small bottle of lube open and spreading it over his fingers before settling between the other's legs and bending forward to press a kiss to pouty lips. Fingers eased their way into Kamio's body one by one, pumping in and out in such a way designed to both prepare the redhead and bring him pleasure.
Kamio gasped and panted, body twisting and bucking against Atobe's fingers while pleas bled from his lips -- hurry up, I'm fucking ready, just do it already. For the most part Atobe ignored his cries, quieting them only with the press of his own lips against Kamio's and tongue lapping over a somewhat bruised lip; tonguefucking a pretty mouth while fingers worked.
It only took a few minutes for Kamio's body to relax enough and Atobe pulled back, fingers uncaringly wiped on Kamio's sheets as he worked on getting his own clothing off, a hand curling around his own erection and stroking himself. Kamio's tongue trailed across his lower lip, gaze intent on the older boy. It was obvious to Atobe what Kamio wanted, what Kamio wanted to do and as much as he would've enjoyed getting his dick sucked, they were just a little pressed for time.
He stroked himself a few more times before the condom was rolled on and Atobe positioned himself, tugging the redhead's legs just so as he guided himself forward, a low hiss bleeding from his lips as he pressed in. Tight and hot, Kamio was seemingly always like that no matter how many times they did their dirty deeds. Kamio's moans urged him on, until he was fully within the younger teen and he began long, slow thrusts that quickened when pale hands clawed at his back and a beautiful head tilted back and sweet face twisted in both pain and pleasure.
For Kamio the initial pain didn't matter, by now he'd grown used to it and knew that soon it would melt away into something of mindblowing pleasure. His mouth dropped open as hips rolled against the older teen, nearly begging for more with each small cry and sloppy attempt at a kiss.
Atobe slammed in -- he knew he could afford to be a little rough sometimes, the younger teen had once mentioned in passing that he didn't mind it so much if he wanted to go hard and fast , as long as he was careful about it. So far Atobe hadn't broken that trust, he'd always backed off if Kamio seemed as if he was in more pain than he should be.
His head lowered, lips and tongue trailing over the pale skin of Kamio's neck and shoulder while he rocked, hips jerking quicker while Kamio's moans got louder and more drawn out. The redhead probably wouldn't last too long but Atobe was determined to make it worth it. His own moans and grunts were quiet, sometimes barely audible over Kamio's.
Atobe shifted, hiking one of kamio's legs up higher over his hip and pushing in again, his own pants now coming in quick succession. Minutes passed and sweat formed on both bodies, small beads sliding down pale flesh and pooling wherever it could. Atobe's teeth clamped down on Kamio's shoulder, nipping and biting along soft skin and warm breaths puffing over the other's ear.
Kamio came first as expected, a keening cry bleeding from his throat as semen splattered between their bodies, plastering to sweaty skin. He clawed and rocked against the other teen, riding out a mindnumbing wave of ecstasy coursing through the very core of his being. Atobe continued on as if nothing was amiss, pumping in and out of a willing body while his tongue battled the other's -- really just a halfassed attempt at getting the smaller teen to just shut up.
But in his due time Atobe came as well, a low moan rumbling in his chest while his thrusts became more drawn out, breaths panted against Kamio's chest as he milked himself within the smaller boy's body. A few minutes later his body had stopped trembling and a hand slipped between them, fingers curling around the base of his penis to hold the condom in place while he slowly withdrew. Barely in his senses he pulled it off and tied it, tossing it lazily in the direction of a small garbage can.
They lay side by side, still breathless and panting. Somewhere along the way Kamio's head had made it close enough to rest against Atobe's shoulder, and Atobe found himself scratching at mussed red strands.
Atobe Keigo, Kamio had once thought, was an absolutely pretentious jerk who deserved to be shown a thing or two about what life was really like; that it wasn't all fun and games and you didn't get anywhere by belittling people because they weren't from a wealthy or prominant family or judging them without first getting to know them.
Atobe had hurt An-chan, one of his closest friends. He'd flat out ignored Kamio in favour of Momoshiro when just as much sweat and effort had been put into the match from both sides. He'd never once even acknowledged him as a human being.
Kamio hated it when Atobe and his lackeys would show up at the street courts -- the one place he felt totally comfortable and safe in --, parading around and pretending they had authority over everything they touched. He'd hated it even more when they showed up more and more often, until it was just Atobe who showed up on his own, steel colored eyes focused on only one thing: Fudoumine's vice captain.
He'd been pretty pissed off about it for a while -- then the day came when Atobe had asked him for a match. Finally, some recognition as a person. He'd lost the game, of course, though it had been a long and tedious match. He'd managed to get 3 games from Atobe, some way that could probably be attributed to dumb luck.
After that Atobe had come more often -- the first time he'd asked if he wanted to go get something to eat Kamio nearly choked and fell over laughing. The Atobe Keigo, asking him if he wanted to eat.
Things smoothed out over weeks and months, the two teens had at least made a concious effort to get to know each other outside of what rumour and gossip had about them.
Kamio had learned Atobe really did work hard to get what he wanted and that a good part of his arrogance could be attributed to trying to live up to his parents' standards, to make them proud.
Atobe had learned that sometimes it was just fun to hang out with friends and laze about on a Sunday, or to sleep in 'til noon on the weekends. He'd learned that you didn't really need money to make things better; a simple family meal cooked with love and affection could taste much better than expensive steaks and sides your hired chef cooked.
They both learned plenty of things from each other, the most important being that it was more fun and less painful to read the book, to analyze and interpret its contents to find out that maybe the cover was lying.
The late hour seemed to warrant silence, the sidewalk showing little life but for one flickering street lamp. But silence had never been their way, and footsteps of two accompanied a low litany of words and faint static from a set of earphones.
They had come from a tennis session at the street courts, once again playing as a doubles team. Had they each not shown more potential for singles matches, the doubles they played would be formalized in tournaments. As it was, their coordination was almost flawless, understanding of each other born from the closeness of friendship. To them, doubles was an extension of companionship, and not the other way around.
It had made up for relative lack of doubles practice, when they played in the street courts.
Most would not have thought the two to be as close as they were. They were by no means two sides of a coin, but were different coins altogether. As opposite as red and black...but at once similar in unseen fronts.
For friendships were strange things. When each had applied to join the tennis club, they had been introduced as fellow first-years. Finding out that they took the same route home had been chance occurrence.
Taking the same route, one waiting for the other, had been a conscious decision. First-years had little power over how their seniors treated them - and two could fight better than one. It had been weird, initially, traveling home from from school without shared conversation, one murmuring to himself, the other wondering the whole journey back if a earphone hooked onto one ear was still considered rude. Then one day Akira forgot fresh batteries for his MD player, and Shinji began to speak louder, as if to include his companion in the verbalized thought process.
And things just seemed to fall into place. Akira began to listen, paying attention to the seemingly pointless murmurings of the one fast becoming a friend. Shinji stopped muttering when Akira was in one of his raving moods, listening without much change in expression. An increased volume in his murmuring became a norm whenever Akira was around, as if to compensate for the stem in words when his friend took a turn in venting.
The journey had never been in total quiet, with music and mumbling; but the sounds began to carry understanding. To anyone besides the two, it would have been but white noise. Faint beats of music, and soft, self-directed speech.
One knew when to turn away from the window, to look at his partner and stop himself for a while. All it took was a change in the faint beats coming from earphones.
The other was aware of times when the earphones had to be put away, to check if his friend had anything he needed to convey. All it took was a shift in tone of the flow of words from the other's mouth.
The two never really spoke about what they shared. Their team mates had asked, once, and had gotten offhand shrugs. It had not been so much a slight, as a lack of words for explanation.
Like how smoothly they had slipped into the bonds of friendship, they fell into coordination for doubles matches on street tennis courts. Like such coordination, their closeness developed a step further. The process had been so matter-of-fact that neither had noticed it - until after a game on the street courts one day, Ann had pointed it out with a cheeky - and congratulatory - grin.
It had been one of the few times Akira saw an immediate, sudden change in Shinji's expression. And knew the same moment that he wore an identical one. Ann had then jogged away, still grinning, calling out something about meeting a friend.
On the surface, things did not seem to have changed much since then. They continued their routine, going to and leaving school together, chemistry on the doubles courts as strong as before, the same sounds following the pair.
But each knew the difference. A second set of earphones was plugged into the second jack on the MD player on their bus rides. Shoulders would touch when they traveled to and from school. One hand would reach for the other's when the need for communication arose.
Total silence had never accompanied the two. For each had gotten used to the sounds that was the other.
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