Something Missing

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, SassieLassie998, Silent_Aura, BlueVixen2071, AnimeBabesGoneWildWithMe, JuliaFayeSmutWriter, and Michael Bulaich. You guys are beautiful. This chapter is for you. Let me know what you think of it.


Chapter Two: Slippery Slides

Yagami Taichi was not the most observant of guys. On a certain level, he was vaguely aware of that. Vaguely. But Sora was a special area of interest for him. She didn’t look up to a game of tennis, and when they began to play, this was proven. Taichi had only learned tennis to play with Sora, and she had been the teacher, he the sometimes attentive student. When he first took the lead, he was elated, but now, it bothered him that he was winning.

They could tell anyone else that the games they played twice a week were just for fun, but they knew better. Both Taichi and Sora were too damn competitive to not take even the most casual game seriously. Still, Taichi had only ever beaten Sora at tennis twice. Both times the games had been frighteningly close and Taichi had pulled a win through mostly luck; usually, she handed his ass to him in this sport. Today, however, he had a comfortable lead and it was growing. This was more than Sora being off her game. It was almost as though she was in a completely different place, and that took a lot of fun out of playing with her. How was it a win if there wasn’t a battle in the first place?

She had obviously been out all last night, and judging from the way she winced at loud noises, she’d been drinking. But that wasn’t all; she seemed a little spastic and when he had touched her hand with his while passing her racket to her, she’d jumped like his fingers were branding irons. He didn’t know what to make of that but it made him worry. Sora had never reacted to his touch that way before. There was a sad part of him that even ached at the thought.

Taichi tried to forget, to disregard, but there was no getting around the fact that he loved Sora. He was even sure that that was what the feelings were; he had never been allowed to take them for granted. Over the years, the way he felt for Sora changed only to grow deeper. By the time he had defined his emotions, admitted to them, Sora had found her way to his friend Yamato’s arms. Had she started dating anyone else, Taichi would have kicked their ass and declared himself to Sora. But he and Yamato were like brothers, so he had kept silent—though sometimes he wondered if Sora actually knew how he felt. She and Yamato had been together for four years without so much as a stagger and Taichi had resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never have her, the longing such a regular and daily pain, there were times he forgot about it. Of course, this didn’t stop her from making him horny as hell.

Even in the state she was in today, he couldn’t help his eyes caressing her curves appreciatively. The white pleated miniskirt and polo shirt might have been lingerie for how they affected him. Like always, he’d had a good jerk-off session before meeting with Sora, but there were some days when that didn’t help. Today was shaping up to be one of those days. Only by staying a fair distance from her and keeping his eyes as far away from her legs as possible was he preventing a raging hard-on.

He looked up at her as he prepared to serve, and caught her eyes. She looked so tired, so distracted, he didn’t know for sure if she was even seeing him.

“Sor,” he said, “do want to just call it a day?”

Taichi was disappointed but not surprised when she hesitated, then nodded.

They walked to the bench on the sidelines where towels waited. Taichi zipped his racket back in its cover and threw a towel around his neck. Sora took a large swig from her water. Gathering up their supplies, they turned to leave when Sora stumbled.

Taichi reflexively reached out to catch her, put himself into her fall path. His hands went to her hips, racket still clutched in his left one, bottle of water falling out of the right. Her face went into his neck and her bare thighs ended up on either side of his leg, the juncture at their apex pressing into his hip.

For Taichi, the first half of the next second was spent in shock, the end in buzzing heat spreading from the points where their bodies touched. He couldn’t hold back a gasp at his immediate reaction, his mild arousal becoming a full-blown erection. In the next moment he could swear he heard her sigh in his ear, and felt her faintly, indistinctly, rub herself against his hip bone. Good God, was she trying to kill him?

But the moment passed, and she pulled back from him. She bent and immediately began picking up the things they’d dropped. Looking at her, Taichi saw a protrusion from his pants blocking part of his view. Panicking, he covered himself with his racket just in time.

She looked up smiling apologetically, holding his water out to him. “Sorry,” she said. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m a little hung over. I guess I’m a little clumsy right now, too.”

Taichi nodded, swallowing. She smiled and began walking after he took his water bottle. He must have twisted innocent actions to make them dirty, or imagined them all together. She didn’t seem to have been affected by their contact at all. He wanted to groan as he began following her. It was going to be a long walk home, trying to carry his racket in a way that hid his feelings and looked casual.

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Sora ran up the flight of outdoor stairs to her dorm room. She was absolutely unhinged—when she’d tripped she’d actually contemplated pushing Taichi down on the tennis court and having her way with him. As it was, there was no way he’d missed her rubbing herself against him. He’d had the hard-on from hell; Sora had pretended not to notice, but it wasn’t as though he was good at hiding that sort of thing. She groaned as she pushed to door open—this was not a good day.

When she walked in, she heard someone in the kitchen. Mimi was making dinner, thank God.

“I have had the weirdest fucking day, you would not believe,” she said dumping her tennis racket, towel, and bottle of water on the sofa. “Whatever you’re making, I’ll eat some, too. I’m hungry but I’m going crazy—I need a date with my vibrator so damn bad.”

Sora walked into the kitchen and froze. Standing there with a half-eaten sushi roll, eyes wide and in mid-chew, was Jyou. His face getting very, very red.

“You’re not Mimi,” Sora managed.

Jyou shook his head. Then Sora noticed his disheveled appearance: wrinkled clothes, no jacket, and an undone tie. A suspicion began forming in her mind as she and Jyou stared at each other awkwardly.

Mimi whistled into the kitchen. “Did you say something, Sora? I thought I heard your voice.” She had a huge smile on her face and her tone was practically euphoric.

Sora’s suspicions were confirmed; Mimi was only this perky after sex.

Jyou blushed deeper as he saw Sora piece his afternoon together.

“No,” said Sora, still looking at Jyou, “not really.”

“I feel like cooking,” Mimi said, not really listening to her roommate. “What do you guys feel like eating?”

Jyou finally swallowed his bite. “I’d better get going,” he said, his every word and movement screaming how uncomfortable he was.

“Oh,” Mimi seemed to deflate a little. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Sora tried not to listen as Mimi and Jyou said goodbye, Mimi suggesting to Jyou that he come by the next night.

She was leaning against the wall when Mimi walked back in. “What was that?”

Mimi didn’t pretend she didn’t know what Sora was talking about. “I’ve been having a little trouble in my biology class and, well, he does that sort of thing all day—my basic course is like kid stuff for him, so I asked him for help. Then I . . . said thank you.”

Sora’s eyes widened, “You mean you made a deal to—”

Mimi laughed. “God no. He was just as surprised as you were. Don’t make a big thing of it—it’s just a fling,” she dismissed the topic before Sora could probe deeper. “So what happened today that got you so worked up you shouted how much you needed to spend quality time with your vibrator?”

Sora blushed.

“Wait a second, wasn’t today a tennis game with Taichi?” Mimi turned around and from the look on Sora’s face, got her answer. Mimi gasped mockingly, “Sora, were you naughty with Taichi?”

“No,” she defended herself, feeling a hot stain of blush and shame on her cheeks.

Mimi studied her for a moment, her teasing demeanor changing. “But you wanted to be,” she said seriously. “Sora, have you thought this through?—you’re not exactly available.” There was a hint of disapproval in her voice so slight Sora may have imagined it.

“Yes, I thought it through,” she snapped, “which is why I didn’t do anything.”

Mimi set down the stirring spoon she had pulled out of a drawer. “What happened?”

Sora relayed the events of the day, omitting most of the details from her first peeping-tom adventure and the fact that she had pleasured herself while watching the show. “And when we left the tennis court, I had to walk home with him and his huge erection and pretend I didn’t know it was there.”

Mimi raised an eyebrow, held up her two index fingers a good space apart, and said, “Big?”

Sora reached out and pulled her hands further apart to match the actual size in question. “Big.”

Mimi stared at her fingers and the distance between. “Wow.”

“Mims, I don’t know what I’m going to do. How do I forget this?”

Mimi was still looking at her fingers. “Wow.”

Sora pulled Mimi’s hands down. “Focus, damn it.”

There was a knock at the door.

Sora sighed and went to answer it. Yamato was standing on her porch holding a pint of ice cream, and she almost passed out. Oh, yeah, she remembered. Him.

She stepped back to let him into the apartment, and he kissed her hello.

“I brought you some ice cream, because I saw you drinking last night and thought you could use a pick-me-up right about now,” he said holding the pint of fudge mint out to her.

“Are you still hung over?” Mimi asked incredulously.

Sora shrugged.

Yamato laughed fondly. “She is many amazing things, but she can’t hold her liquor for anything, and it messes her up for a good day and a half.” He kissed her again.

Sora was staring at the pint of ice cream in guilt. She was a friggin’ idiot—she had the best boyfriend in the world. Mimi was right; she hadn’t thought this through at all.

“Do you feel up to going out? Playing?” he asked her.

Any other day she felt this crappy she would have told him no, but she felt so guilty over what she had done earlier that she nodded. “I need a shower though. I just got back from my tennis game with Taichi.”

Mimi sniggered behind her.

“I can wait,” Yamato said.

Sora went to her bedroom and gathered an outfit to wear after the shower. “Mimi!” she yelled. “Can you come here and help me a sec?”

Mimi entered the room, “What would you need my help for?”

Sora pinched her arm and Mimi cried out. “Don’t go around doing stuff like that,” Sora whispered furiously. “He’ll think something’s up. I was stupid today, but that doesn’t mean I should lose him over it. You can’t tell anyone—I mean anyone—what I told you.”

Mimi rolled her eyes. “I won’t. I’m the soul of discretion.” Sora looked at her skeptically. “Okay, I’m not, but I can keep quiet about this.”

“Good,” Sora plowed past Mimi and into the bathroom for her shower.

“Use my conditioner,” Mimi called after her. “Your hair needs it.”

After her shower and hurried application of make-up, she and Yamato left the dorm. They ate at their favorite dive, and when he was driving her back they passed the playground of their old elementary school.

“Wait, stop here,” she said.

“Why?”

She grinned. “I’m feeling a little silly.”

She opened the car door and made a dash for the playground. All the equipment she remembered towering over her seemed so small. When Yamato caught up to her she was swinging on the monkey bars with her legs pulled up so that she could hang without touching the ground.

“Want to play chicken?” she asked wiggling her eyebrows. She didn’t know why, but she was suddenly in a good mood.

He laughed and joined her. Their game was ferocious, with Yamato finally falling on his butt with a grunt. Knowing he would come after her, she made a dash for the slide, laughing as she climbed the ladder. He gabbed her foot as she neared the top, and she ended up going down the slide on her belly. It was a slick, old, metal slide and the momentum threw her into the sand, generous amounts going down her shirt. Yamato laughed from the top of the slide as she shook herself out, spitting out a bit of sand that had gotten in her mouth. She stuck her tongue out at him, then broke into a run to get back to the slide ladder, because she knew he was about to come for her. She glanced enough to see that he was going down standing up, surfer style. When she reached the ladder she heard him land none too softly. Reaching the top, she saw that he had, once again, landed on his ass.

She was giggling now. “You idiot.”

“Hey,” he said laughing so hard he could barely speak, “it’s not funny.”

She slid down the normal way and landed in his lap. Putting her arms around him, she kissed him.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, spitting. “Thanks for passing me sand,” he chuckled.

She responded by kissing him again.

They lay back in the sand, arms wrapped around each other. They stared up at the few stars that could be seen in the city.

“You know, Sora,” he said, “I only do this stupid, childish stuff with you.”

“Aren’t I horrible?”

There was a pause. “Thank you, Sora—for this.”

She snuggled into his arms, her lack of sleep finally catching up with her, and she dozed off.

She didn’t know why, but she dreamed of Taichi. She was back on the fire escape, watching him touch himself. She reached out to him, her hand passing through the glass of the window—and suddenly she was in his room. She watched as he clutched his hard prick in one hand and the picture of her in the bikini in the other.

“Sora . . .” he groaned.

“Yes?” she answered.

He looked up at her; he didn’t seem surprised to see her there at all. Sweat dappling his skin, hunger in his eyes, he whispered, “Put me in your mouth.”

Her mouth salivated as she climbed onto his bed and between his muscular legs. With reverence and desire, she lowered her head, dragging the flat of her tongue across the tip, once, twice, three times. She stroked the shaft with her hands, circling the crown with her tongue. She looked up, met eyes with him, and then took the head in her mouth. Her eyes closed as a melting shudder of pleasure rocked her at the act. She could taste his pre-come and the flavor was intoxicating. She took more of him, pushing to the back of her mouth, then pulling him out again. In and out. Then, she took all of him, swallowing his size to her throat. In and out. He was clawing and pulling at her hair, grunting and moaning. Then he grabbed her head, shoving himself in to the hilt, and cried out his release as his juice slid down her throat.