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Posted on:
2015-08-03
Words:
1,143

Almost Kiss

by aroceu

Summary:

Sousuke watches from the side, as Nanase sticks the cigarette between his lips, sucks. Sousuke counts the seconds that tick by.

Notes:

Written for SASO 2015 bonus round 1, for Siming's prompt: “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Something about this quote and Sousuke/Haru and I couldn't resist. Plus everyone on twitter was talking about souharu shotgunning so how could I not. Thanks, guys.

Nanase takes forever. Sousuke watches from the side, as Nanase sticks the cigarette between his lips, sucks. Sousuke counts the seconds that tick by. (Except he doesn’t, actually, because Nanase’s profile glows in the dim streetlight peeking in from the windows, periwinkle against pale against black, and it’s hard to remember what follows three when grey blends with Nanase’s palette.)

Sousuke blinks and then Nanase’s handing the cigarette to him. “Here,” Nanase says. He’s giving it to Sousuke with the cherry facing himself. Sousuke scoffs as he feels the faint wetness from the butt when he takes it.

“That was too long,” he criticizes, adjusting it between his fingers. Something strange inside him bends, like he’s remembering the years his parents and teachers told him smoking is bad. Like he’d been staring too much to have known if it was too long, anyway. Like his father had given him this car and told him not to stain the leather and Sousuke had promised not to and now there are marks everywhere from all the times he and Nanase have smoked together.

Nanase exhales through his nose. If Sousuke looked, Nanase would probably be rolling his eyes.

“If it took me so long you could’ve gotten your own cigarette,” he mutters.

“You always say you don’t like it when I take one off of you, though.”

Nanase turns to him. Sousuke starts to take his hit. It’s not as damp as he’d like it to be, and that dent in him gets deeper – he and Nanase aren’t supposed to be here, right now, in the same university, in Sousuke’s car, smoking with the windows half down. It’d rained earlier and Sousuke can still smell the water on the pavement. Nanase wasn’t supposed to have agreed when Sousuke asked if he wanted to join him on a late night dinner run, shouldn’t have sat in the passenger’s side without even asking, shouldn’t have laughed when he and Sousuke had almost slipped in a puddle earlier. Sousuke shouldn’t have almost-stopped and almost-grabbed him and almost, almost said, You have a wonderful laugh.

It happens this way in Sousuke’s head, and he takes a deep drag to try to clear it. His throat feels as hot as the blood running through his veins, down to his arms and wrists and fingers. His exhale becomes a sigh.

“Hey.” When Sousuke turns to his side, Nanase is looking him up and down. “You’re taking pretty long too.”

Sousuke glances at the cigarette. The end is burning fast, almost daring him for an answer he doesn’t know the question for.

“Don’t waste the cigarette,” Nanase warns, without trying to take it from him.

Sousuke sighs. “I have a way to make this efficient,” he says, and brings the cigarette to his mouth again.

Nanase watches him. The tingle starts slow, but it never expands, and Sousuke wants to know if this will let it go. He puts the hand with the cigarette on his steering wheel, turns to Nanase. Sousuke cups his chin when he’s still staring. Nanase flinches, but he leans in.

Sousuke’s ears ring with the echoes of his own heart as he teases at Nanase with his grip. Nanase’s mouth falls open, perhaps accidentally. Sousuke can see every hue of blue in Nanase’s eyes as he leans his face forward, straining in his seat, expels the smoke into Nanase’s open mouth. It’s now when the silver clouds the saturation of Nanase’s face. He inhales at the slight, gulps down the smoke Sousuke has fed him. Sousuke can feel the millimeters between their lips, and thinks of pressing forward.

He doesn’t. He lets go of Nanase’s chin. “There,” he says, and then offers the cigarette back to him.

Nanase lets out a small cough, but accepts the cigarette. Sousuke peeks from the corner of his eyes. Nanase says, “That was indeed efficient.”

Sousuke makes a small noise of affirmation. He wonders what smoke tastes like off of Nanase’s lips, on Wednesdays after class, on mornings under the invisible sun, here, surrounded by petrichor and the night and Sousuke’s heartbeat.

*

Sousuke flicks his tongue over Nanase’s teeth, frowns at the way Nanase closes his lips on him. Sousuke tightens his grip around Nanase’s jaw – stubborn brat, he thinks, kind of wonders what it’s like if Nanase sat in his lap and ground against his cock through his jeans.

That would be hard, though, because the car is small and then Nanase would be pressing into the steering wheel and honking and then they’d get kicked out of the parking lot, because the corner store is still open. Instead they make their way with the median between them, Sousuke’s elbow resting on the top, Nanase making small whining noises into Sousuke’s mouth even though he won’t open his mouth properly.

Sousuke pulls away by an inch, irritated. “Do you want me to kiss you or not?” he asks. The cigarette is long burnt out now, crumbled to damp ashes somewhere outside.

Nanase smirks and Sousuke wants to kiss it off, so he does. Nanase doesn’t flinch at the chasteness of it and says, “I just think this whole situation would be better if we weren’t in your car.”

“Why,” Sousuke says dryly, “you want to go outside and make out?”

“We live in places, you know,” Nanase replies, looking Sousuke in the eye.

His pupils are blown, though, not as blue as they were before. Sousuke glances down, but Nanase’s jeans are as dark as the rest of the car so it’s kind of hard to see if he’s as half-hard as Sousuke is right now.

Nanase doesn’t say anything about the glance, rather puts his hand on the back of Sousuke’s head and presses them together again. This time he does part his lips like he should, flicks his own tongue over the seam of Sousuke’s lips. Sousuke’s tempted to do the same as he’d done, but doesn’t; rather winds his tongue against Nanase’s, and Nanase complies. He closes his lips around him, succulent and sweet, sucks with a fervor that Sousuke groans into Nanase’s mouth. Nanase’s hand slides down to Sousuke’s jaw like he wants to feel the vibrations.

Nanase pulls away when Sousuke decides that, fuck going to one of their places, he’s happy kissing here. But Nanase says, “So, let’s get going then,” and faces forward in his seat. He puts his hands on his lap.

Sousuke looks at him, sighs, and then begins buckling his seatbelt. “I really hate you, you know that?” he tells him, as he wonders if his boner would go away on their way home or if he’s going to have to deal with this the whole time he drives.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Nanase’s grin through the streetlight. “I try,” he says, and Sousuke starts the car.

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