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writetomyheart2014-05-27 10:41 am
orangegreenlove.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2014-05-27 10:41 am
[Team Two] Super Star Cluster
Space Alien AU.
A giggle bubbles up, slow and leisurely. Totsuka only realizes it's his own voice a moment after he hears it, which is how he knows that his allergy medication, which Kawai dubbed HH – Horny and Hilarious, has taken effect. Kawai is working to reduce the side effects, but it's slow work. The time distortion is down to about a quarter of a second or so now, which isn't enough for anyone but Totsuka himself to notice. The giggles are more obvious.
He can hear Hashimoto humming in the shower, splashing around with the clear liquid that keeps Hashimoto's skin from burning at Totsuka's touch. Totsuka can imagine it well enough, how Hashimoto spreads his wings, soaking the delicate membranes through in seconds. Hashimoto's hair usually resists, swaying to avoid the spray until Hashimoto drags his fingers through it, brushing lightly over his antennae.
Totsuka shakes his head, the room tilting as he does. It's too early to think about coaxing sparks out of Hashimoto's antennae. Resolutely, he turns his mind back to the task at hand, sorting through the boxes and packages Yokoo brought from his trip. There's honey and cling wrap, both specially imported. A box of candy Yokoo claims to have brought by accident. Specialist tools that Hashimoto needs rather urgently to repair one of the ailing planet-forming machines before the planet turns back into a lump of rock and ice.
Thoughts of Hashimoto under the shower keep intruding. One image is especially persistent – Hashimoto raising his arms to let the shower cover his pouches with an extra thick layer. In Totsuka's mind, Hashimoto's pouches are pulsing already, closer to blue than to green. He knows exactly how they'll feel under his fingers, soft and slippery from the protective fluid that renders his touch harmless. The only thing he doesn't know, might never know, is what Hashimoto's skin tastes like. Not salty like human skin, Totsuka is sure of that. Perhaps sweet, like the honey Hashimoto is so fond of. Sweet like forbidden fruit. Hashimoto's pouches would have a stronger taste, more ripe, like üxelberries.
The room tilts once more when Totsuka shakes the image out of his head. This second tilt almost fixes the angle, leaving the floor close to horizontal. To distract himself, Totsuka opens the box of sweets. It is filled with blue lollipops, each one protected by a clear wrapper; a quick check with his pocket detector identifies them as edible for humans. Totsuka knows it's most likely the allergy medication talking, yet he can't help giggling as he sucks the dark blue lollipop into his mouth. The colour reminds him of Hashimoto's lips, blue with arousal; the lollipop tastes of blueberries, expensive natural flavouring most likely imported directly from Earth.
Trying to throw the stick and paper away is a bit of an adventure as his coordination is sub par at the moment. By the time he straightens up, Hashimoto is trying rather unsuccessfully not to drip on the floor. Hashimoto's eyes widen comically, nictitating membranes flickering over his eyes twice in quick succession. “Tottsu?”
He can't interpret Hashimoto's tone at all, nor the red-yellow-pink pattern of his antennae. Hashimoto's wings spread out wide before folding close against his back, betraying great agitation. It's kind of cute really, like a little bird fluttering, except Hashimoto is bigger than him by quite a bit and Totsuka giggles again, licking his lips at the thought of Hashimoto as an üxelberry bird. Totsuka giggles as Hashimoto swoops in on his lips exactly like the aforementioned bird on a pile of berries and keeps giggling all through the kiss. Hashimoto's lips are soft against his, so soft, like a fluffy bird's fluffiest feathers.
He feels safe, enveloped by Hashimoto's wings and love. Totsuka shakes his head to dislodge the image of Hashimoto as a protective mother bird. The room tilts again, almost turning upside down, but Totsuka simply leans against Hashimoto, lets Hashimoto's wings and strong arms keep him upright. He quickly finds himself horizontal for real, swept off his feet, picked up in Hashimoto's arms. It's a good opportunity to touch Hashimoto's cheeks – they're in easy reach, and for once neither one of them is likely to die if Totsuka indulges himself.
With his bed soft underneath him and Hashimoto strong and insistent on top of him, a sudden surge of arousal burns away most of the mental fog. He's still wearing all his clothes and some of the protective liquid is soaking through his shirt, but he doesn't want to separate from Hashimoto even for the few seconds it would take to undress. Instead he wraps his arms around Hashimoto's shoulders and pulls him even closer. The slipperiness of Hashimoto's skin means he has to be careful not to slip and cut himself on Hashimoto's bone spurs again. Not so much for his own sake, with his medication in full swing he'd barely register the pain, but more because Hashimoto really doesn't need any more scars.
Avoiding the bone spurs, he trails his fingers along Hashimoto's shoulder and down his back, over the trail of knotted scars Totsuka's blood left when it washed away the protective liquid. With gentle fingers, Totsuka maps every ridge; the scars make a unique patterns, like a cluster of stars. Whenever his dose of allergy medication is a bit too high, Totsuka is almost, almost certain that he recognises the pattern, that he's seen it somewhere in distant space. A single drop-shaped scar is as far down as Hashimoto's hip. Luck and Hashimoto's instinctual reaction to clamp his arms tight against his sides protected his pouches, and Kawai used up a fortune in nano-bots to keep Hashimoto's wing scar free and functional, or as functional as wings on Hashimoto's species ever are.
“Touch me,” Hashimoto begs, his eyes locked on Totsuka's mouth. “Please, I want you.”
Totsuka kisses the tip of Hashimoto's nose fondly. He's not quite sure what makes Hashimoto so desperate to be begging already, but Hashimoto's fidgeting is more than adorable. When he reaches for Hashimoto's antennae, Hashimoto's hair sways towards his fingers. Strands of Hashimoto's hair rub against his hand while he caresses each antenna, stroking each one slowly from base to tip until they settle into a deep pink glow. Two of Hashimoto's antennae vibrate with pleasure, but the antenna on the left hasn't been quite right since their spaceship crashed near the colony.
Totsuka brushes his fingers lightly over Hashimoto's genital pouches as soon as Hashimoto is able to raise his arms. They pulse under his fingers, already dripping clear green fluid, opening up much quicker than usual. Hashimoto sits up and reaches for the container of protective liquid without prompting from Totsuka. With practiced ease, Hashimoto applies more protection, pouring a good amount directly into his pouches – his own fluids wash the liquid away too quickly, so frequent reapplication is a necessity.
The short break is a good thing for Totsuka. The urge to lick Hashimoto's pulsing blue pouches, to find out if Hashimoto tastes as good as he looks, is nearly overwhelming. He knows he shouldn't, it's pretty much at the top of the List of Things Totsuka Shota Should Not Do, but that doesn't make the desire, the primal want go away. Instead he kisses Hashimoto, kisses those blue lips that are so much safer. Totsuka's eyes flutter shut as he loses himself in the kiss, consumed by Hashimoto's love. He doesn't need to see to caress Hashimoto's pouches; his fingers tease at soft grooves and feather over sensitive tufts until Hashimoto is giving off a constant stream of noise, moans interspersed by Totsuka's name and pleas for more.
Hashimoto whines when Totsuka stops to douse his pouches again, his pout so cute that Totsuka can't help but kiss the expression off his face. He wants to tease, but Hashimoto is begging again and really, Totsuka's never been able to say no to Hashimoto for long. He dips his fingers into those soft grooves and Hashimoto clings to him, antennae blinking excitedly. He knows he should touch Hashimoto's antennae too, but Hashimoto's silky grooves and soft, feathery tufts feel too good under his fingers to think about anything else.
The wonder of having Hashimoto's tufts pulse right against his fingers doesn't lessen, no matter how often he experiences it. Totsuka kisses Hashimoto while Hashimoto moans and glows, gently prolonging Hashimoto's orgasm until Hashimoto is utterly spent. There should be sparks, but the protective liquid covering Hashimoto's antennae suppresses spark production, not that it seems to hamper Hashimoto's pleasure any. Totsuka is quite happy to serve as a body-pillow while Hashimoto recovers, as it puts Hashimoto's hair and cute antennae in easy petting reach and lets him watch the gentle pulse of Hashimoto's pouches. Even Hashimoto's pouches seem to want impossible things, staying open far longer than they should, waiting for Totsuka's seed.
Totsuka's fingers are stained green by the fluid seeping from Hashimoto's pouches; the colour supposedly fades after a few days, but Totsuka has no intention of testing that theory. They can't wear a curl of each other's hair on the tips of their wings, but that doesn't make them any less married. Totsuka wears Hashimoto's colour proudly on his fingers, while Hashimoto carries a ring of Totsuka's hair in a clear cube on his belt.
~~~
In his defence, Totsuka is always hopped up on the best medication Doctor K. can provide when he sucks on a lollipop, which is the only reason he can think of for why it takes him almost three weeks to make the connection. He drops a half-eaten lollipop during a fit of the giggles, starring at the blue smear it leaves on the back of his hand for a long moment. A mirror is quickly found. His lips are dark blue, almost the same colour as Hashimoto's in the height of passion. Totsuka sticks his tongue out at his reflection and is unsurprised to find it equally blue, temporarily coloured by the lollipop's juice.
Your turn,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dancerdreams2!
A giggle bubbles up, slow and leisurely. Totsuka only realizes it's his own voice a moment after he hears it, which is how he knows that his allergy medication, which Kawai dubbed HH – Horny and Hilarious, has taken effect. Kawai is working to reduce the side effects, but it's slow work. The time distortion is down to about a quarter of a second or so now, which isn't enough for anyone but Totsuka himself to notice. The giggles are more obvious.
He can hear Hashimoto humming in the shower, splashing around with the clear liquid that keeps Hashimoto's skin from burning at Totsuka's touch. Totsuka can imagine it well enough, how Hashimoto spreads his wings, soaking the delicate membranes through in seconds. Hashimoto's hair usually resists, swaying to avoid the spray until Hashimoto drags his fingers through it, brushing lightly over his antennae.
Totsuka shakes his head, the room tilting as he does. It's too early to think about coaxing sparks out of Hashimoto's antennae. Resolutely, he turns his mind back to the task at hand, sorting through the boxes and packages Yokoo brought from his trip. There's honey and cling wrap, both specially imported. A box of candy Yokoo claims to have brought by accident. Specialist tools that Hashimoto needs rather urgently to repair one of the ailing planet-forming machines before the planet turns back into a lump of rock and ice.
Thoughts of Hashimoto under the shower keep intruding. One image is especially persistent – Hashimoto raising his arms to let the shower cover his pouches with an extra thick layer. In Totsuka's mind, Hashimoto's pouches are pulsing already, closer to blue than to green. He knows exactly how they'll feel under his fingers, soft and slippery from the protective fluid that renders his touch harmless. The only thing he doesn't know, might never know, is what Hashimoto's skin tastes like. Not salty like human skin, Totsuka is sure of that. Perhaps sweet, like the honey Hashimoto is so fond of. Sweet like forbidden fruit. Hashimoto's pouches would have a stronger taste, more ripe, like üxelberries.
The room tilts once more when Totsuka shakes the image out of his head. This second tilt almost fixes the angle, leaving the floor close to horizontal. To distract himself, Totsuka opens the box of sweets. It is filled with blue lollipops, each one protected by a clear wrapper; a quick check with his pocket detector identifies them as edible for humans. Totsuka knows it's most likely the allergy medication talking, yet he can't help giggling as he sucks the dark blue lollipop into his mouth. The colour reminds him of Hashimoto's lips, blue with arousal; the lollipop tastes of blueberries, expensive natural flavouring most likely imported directly from Earth.
Trying to throw the stick and paper away is a bit of an adventure as his coordination is sub par at the moment. By the time he straightens up, Hashimoto is trying rather unsuccessfully not to drip on the floor. Hashimoto's eyes widen comically, nictitating membranes flickering over his eyes twice in quick succession. “Tottsu?”
He can't interpret Hashimoto's tone at all, nor the red-yellow-pink pattern of his antennae. Hashimoto's wings spread out wide before folding close against his back, betraying great agitation. It's kind of cute really, like a little bird fluttering, except Hashimoto is bigger than him by quite a bit and Totsuka giggles again, licking his lips at the thought of Hashimoto as an üxelberry bird. Totsuka giggles as Hashimoto swoops in on his lips exactly like the aforementioned bird on a pile of berries and keeps giggling all through the kiss. Hashimoto's lips are soft against his, so soft, like a fluffy bird's fluffiest feathers.
He feels safe, enveloped by Hashimoto's wings and love. Totsuka shakes his head to dislodge the image of Hashimoto as a protective mother bird. The room tilts again, almost turning upside down, but Totsuka simply leans against Hashimoto, lets Hashimoto's wings and strong arms keep him upright. He quickly finds himself horizontal for real, swept off his feet, picked up in Hashimoto's arms. It's a good opportunity to touch Hashimoto's cheeks – they're in easy reach, and for once neither one of them is likely to die if Totsuka indulges himself.
With his bed soft underneath him and Hashimoto strong and insistent on top of him, a sudden surge of arousal burns away most of the mental fog. He's still wearing all his clothes and some of the protective liquid is soaking through his shirt, but he doesn't want to separate from Hashimoto even for the few seconds it would take to undress. Instead he wraps his arms around Hashimoto's shoulders and pulls him even closer. The slipperiness of Hashimoto's skin means he has to be careful not to slip and cut himself on Hashimoto's bone spurs again. Not so much for his own sake, with his medication in full swing he'd barely register the pain, but more because Hashimoto really doesn't need any more scars.
Avoiding the bone spurs, he trails his fingers along Hashimoto's shoulder and down his back, over the trail of knotted scars Totsuka's blood left when it washed away the protective liquid. With gentle fingers, Totsuka maps every ridge; the scars make a unique patterns, like a cluster of stars. Whenever his dose of allergy medication is a bit too high, Totsuka is almost, almost certain that he recognises the pattern, that he's seen it somewhere in distant space. A single drop-shaped scar is as far down as Hashimoto's hip. Luck and Hashimoto's instinctual reaction to clamp his arms tight against his sides protected his pouches, and Kawai used up a fortune in nano-bots to keep Hashimoto's wing scar free and functional, or as functional as wings on Hashimoto's species ever are.
“Touch me,” Hashimoto begs, his eyes locked on Totsuka's mouth. “Please, I want you.”
Totsuka kisses the tip of Hashimoto's nose fondly. He's not quite sure what makes Hashimoto so desperate to be begging already, but Hashimoto's fidgeting is more than adorable. When he reaches for Hashimoto's antennae, Hashimoto's hair sways towards his fingers. Strands of Hashimoto's hair rub against his hand while he caresses each antenna, stroking each one slowly from base to tip until they settle into a deep pink glow. Two of Hashimoto's antennae vibrate with pleasure, but the antenna on the left hasn't been quite right since their spaceship crashed near the colony.
Totsuka brushes his fingers lightly over Hashimoto's genital pouches as soon as Hashimoto is able to raise his arms. They pulse under his fingers, already dripping clear green fluid, opening up much quicker than usual. Hashimoto sits up and reaches for the container of protective liquid without prompting from Totsuka. With practiced ease, Hashimoto applies more protection, pouring a good amount directly into his pouches – his own fluids wash the liquid away too quickly, so frequent reapplication is a necessity.
The short break is a good thing for Totsuka. The urge to lick Hashimoto's pulsing blue pouches, to find out if Hashimoto tastes as good as he looks, is nearly overwhelming. He knows he shouldn't, it's pretty much at the top of the List of Things Totsuka Shota Should Not Do, but that doesn't make the desire, the primal want go away. Instead he kisses Hashimoto, kisses those blue lips that are so much safer. Totsuka's eyes flutter shut as he loses himself in the kiss, consumed by Hashimoto's love. He doesn't need to see to caress Hashimoto's pouches; his fingers tease at soft grooves and feather over sensitive tufts until Hashimoto is giving off a constant stream of noise, moans interspersed by Totsuka's name and pleas for more.
Hashimoto whines when Totsuka stops to douse his pouches again, his pout so cute that Totsuka can't help but kiss the expression off his face. He wants to tease, but Hashimoto is begging again and really, Totsuka's never been able to say no to Hashimoto for long. He dips his fingers into those soft grooves and Hashimoto clings to him, antennae blinking excitedly. He knows he should touch Hashimoto's antennae too, but Hashimoto's silky grooves and soft, feathery tufts feel too good under his fingers to think about anything else.
The wonder of having Hashimoto's tufts pulse right against his fingers doesn't lessen, no matter how often he experiences it. Totsuka kisses Hashimoto while Hashimoto moans and glows, gently prolonging Hashimoto's orgasm until Hashimoto is utterly spent. There should be sparks, but the protective liquid covering Hashimoto's antennae suppresses spark production, not that it seems to hamper Hashimoto's pleasure any. Totsuka is quite happy to serve as a body-pillow while Hashimoto recovers, as it puts Hashimoto's hair and cute antennae in easy petting reach and lets him watch the gentle pulse of Hashimoto's pouches. Even Hashimoto's pouches seem to want impossible things, staying open far longer than they should, waiting for Totsuka's seed.
Totsuka's fingers are stained green by the fluid seeping from Hashimoto's pouches; the colour supposedly fades after a few days, but Totsuka has no intention of testing that theory. They can't wear a curl of each other's hair on the tips of their wings, but that doesn't make them any less married. Totsuka wears Hashimoto's colour proudly on his fingers, while Hashimoto carries a ring of Totsuka's hair in a clear cube on his belt.
~~~
In his defence, Totsuka is always hopped up on the best medication Doctor K. can provide when he sucks on a lollipop, which is the only reason he can think of for why it takes him almost three weeks to make the connection. He drops a half-eaten lollipop during a fit of the giggles, starring at the blue smear it leaves on the back of his hand for a long moment. A mirror is quickly found. His lips are dark blue, almost the same colour as Hashimoto's in the height of passion. Totsuka sticks his tongue out at his reflection and is unsurprised to find it equally blue, temporarily coloured by the lollipop's juice.
Your turn,
dancerdreams2!
no subject
And I can't believe that Tottsu's so slow, but let's blame it on the meds... XD I'm all for people becoming funny after taking meds!! *coughs*
no subject
I don't think anyone could think clearly with a naked Hasshi around ;D
Thanks for commenting!
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no subject
I like the day dreaming about taste~~ very nice touch!
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Thanks for commenting! ♥
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Aw, Hasshi's messed up antenna, sad. Also, even though the thing about the scarring on Hasshi's back was sort of sad too, I like how you put things like that in this universe, stuff that's weird and no good along with the stuff that's weird and good. It makes it feel a lot more real.
...as much as Tottsu fucking alien hasshi is real...
anyway, I really needed this today, oh my god. I'm so glad you posted this ;_____;
no subject
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. And that's what I was aiming for, so I'm glad it's working with the realism. (And Kawai can totally fix Hasshi's antenna, as soon as he gets some healthy wave patterns to compare it to.)