Little Hints

Notes: Dedicated to Ladyfiction on the occasion of the second annual YuBo wave with gratitude for proofreading and lots of YuBo in general.

Reposted from the YuriyxBoris Livejournal community (post 6094).

'Warning': Other couples, slash and straight, mentioned in passing.
Disclaimer: Yuriy and Boris are the intellectual property of Takao Aoki. I just play around with them.

----------------------------------------oOo----------------------------------------

Little Hints

They were still teenagers. Still influenced by hormones if no longer ruled by them. But add to this alcohol and nature still had chance to take over.

Mariam had been first to cart Max off to an ill-lit corner — again. Now old enough to drink, he was this time, sufficiently relaxed that he wasn’t made to blush and stutter by her open show of affection — and possessiveness.

As if taking a cue Hiromi had been next to act. Although it might be hypothesised that she wanted just as much to silence Takao as to make out with him. He didn’t yet hold his liquor too well, and his — loud — discussion had somehow drifted from his talent as a blader to his prowess as a lover. Needless to say, Hiromi really preferred he shut up — one way or another.

Sergey had excused himself early. Built like a titan, he was, nevertheless, a gentle soul and couldn’t bear being separated from his young wife for very long. Ivan, on the other hand, made up for his size with wit and charm in spades. Somehow, he always seemed so deeply engrossed in conversation with a girl that one could swear he had been at her side the entire night. And yet he routinely went home with half a dozen phone numbers — if not company.

Kai and Rei were even more surprising. At some point they had met up in a dark booth — arrived from different directions — and were now deeply absorbed in one-another. Tan hands buried in grey-blue hair, pale ones caressing shapely buttocks with the familiarity of long time’s practice. Lips were pressed as could they never part, tongues engaged as if their lives depend upon it. A sight indeed surprising to those who saw despite the lovers — primitive — attempts at subterfuge.

“Those” were two pairs of eyes; widened slightly at the spectacle of their quondam captain. For the briefest of moments blue met violet and smirks were exchanged, before more vodka was ordered.

Blue sharpened with sudden determination and with carefully calculated carelessness a statement was made: “Who’d have thunk, Kai’d be the second queer Blitzkrieg Boy?” With equal guarded, unguarded-ness the reply came: “Third.”

Lavender locked with blue, and suddenly years of friendship and fraternal love was no longer enough. Lips locked with lips, and hands held at hair. Pale, slender, almost effeminate fingers found their hold in grey locks with a ferocity matching their rougher, more callous, even crude counterparts that were entwined lovingly in sanguine strands. They displayed a tenderness that belied their coarse appearance.

Lost to the world, the new-found lovers got up and made their way to the lift. Hands rested on backs and shoulders with instinctive experience as they were oblivious to the cheers and thumbs-up around them. They were no longer able to watch as red eyes found yellow — laughing, and were blissfully unaware of a bluenette handing a brunette a bank note.

The lift bore witness to a kiss trying to make up for lost kisses. As it pinged open, grey hair untangled from red, and two of the fittest athletes in the Russian Federation gasped for air, having forgotten how to breathe. Possessively re-entwined, the teens found their room by instinct, blindly unlocked the door, practically fell through it and gracelessly turned on the light by bumping into a switch.

In stages they made their way to the bed. Shoes, shirts, socks, slacks falling. They only broke apart to release the apparel. And so kissing continued, as hands explored the expanses of hitherto, unknown land. Caresses kept on, tongues jousted like never before. And yet nothing happened.

A recess was never formally called, but as if by agreement the Russians separated. Drew breath. Waited. The younger eventually asked: “Don’t you want to go any further?” The elder looked at him, puzzled, and then, he suddenly laughed. Not a booming laugh, not a silvery laugh, nor a scintillating one; merely the laugh of a young man in a joyous mood.

His companion looked at him uncomprehendingly, eyes taking on a glint of anger at perceived humiliation. “What’s so funny?”

“Don’t you see it? — I bet that if anyone thought of us making love, they’d think we’d argue over who were to be the … the … what’s that stupid word? — Semi? No!, that can’t be right.”

“Seme?”

“Seme!, that’s it. — And here we are, neither of us taking the initiative. Isn’t it just priceless?”
Understanding the hinting, violet eyes softened again and joined in the laughter. It felt almost as rare and precious as their kisses. “Well, we’d better do something about that, right?”

As prompted, the red-head slid down, kissing his way. He attached himself to a nipple, gently nipping, forcefully licking at it, while massaging its twin with a free hand. The other still found support on a violet neck.

Boris moaned at the new sensation. When his nimble friend went lower, he took hold of a thigh to make him turn round. Obliging, Yuriy continued his kisses, eventually reaching inconvenient long-johns. He tugged at them to release his intended target. The younger reciprocated, making short work of getting rid of the tighty-whities that had kept obscured a prominent erection couched in scarlet.

The head-start had allowed the red-head to already start sucking Boris, who shuddered and lost his focus. For a beginner, Yuriy’s tongue work was amazing, and his lover found it hard to concentrate — much too unfamiliar with the game at hand to have yet become blasé about it. For a moment suction disappeared, while kisses were instead applied to the length of a straining shaft, and violet eyes returned the front and came into focus.

Determined, the grey-haired teenager tried to return the attentions of his eager elder. But as he grabbed Yuriy’s member to do so, blue eyes winced and their owner swore. Boris immediately let go and apologised, and for a response found himself being suckled once more. He gave up trying to bend enough to repay the blowjob exactly, but was resolute, that he wanted to give some satisfaction back — and that he would not lose control again.

Faced with this problem, he realised that he was also facing its solution. Hugging the red-head closer — with the reward of a surprised gasp — he began kissing him just behind the balls. He worked his way backwards and started running his tongue over this forbidden flesh, soon concentrating on the entrance there.

As he first firmed his tongue to gain entrance, Yuriy stiffened slightly in surprise, and nearly bit down. As it were, he left no mark, but his junior had found focus and now more forcefully poked, continuing the intrusion. Now it was Yuriy who found concentrating hard, and for a while he could do nothing but relax and enjoy this unexpected assault.

When Boris let up, though, the red-head was back in action, trying to out-do the other. All the more startling was the insertion of a finger in the place of the recently departed tongue. This time he continued caressing the tense head in front of him, bopping his head, doggedly giving head, but then the young Russian bent his finger and carefully started stroking it from side to side. Yuriy moaned with delight, and to his great joy, found that this in turn sent his opponent shuddering. Spurred on, he deliberately hummed, taking in as much as possible, thoroughly enjoying how the challenger was brought ever nearer to ecstasy. He was paid in kind by Boris’ firmer massage, now two fingers moving not only sideways, but in and out as well.

Before long, he was triumphant — Boris tensed, crooked his fingers and released, gasping with fulfilment. Having received his prize, the elder licked his lips and smirked: “I win. Guess that’s why I’m captain.” Goaded by the superior tone, his subordinate reasserted himself. No longer at the mercy of Yuriy’s mouth, he could move freely, and while his fingers continued their exploration, he moved down to take the other’s still unsatisfied cock in his mouth. Running his tongue just lightly over the tip was enough by now, and soon blue eyes found themselves unseeing as Yuriy cried out and culminated.

Sated, Boris removed his finger, and, sitting up, he drew the smaller form of Yuriy to him. Holding him close he waited for him to come round, and when blue eyes opened to meet his, he melted, and kissed him.

“Why didn’t we do this long ago?”

“You think it would have been as much fun without all the tension of the wait?”

Pause. “Love you?”

“Yeah, you’d better.”

Still embraced, they lay down. Exhaustion — more emotional than anything else — soon put them to sleep.


Critique is encouraged.