Something Missing

A/N: I’m poor, and it looks like I might have to buy books with my internet money. In other words, I might be shut off. This is why I’m churning out this fic so fast. I’m going to try to update every day—the operative word there being try—so that you guys don’t get stuck for a few months without knowing the ending.

Also, thanks and love to chi-chi, my one reviewer for chapter two.


Chapter Three: A Lapse in Judgment

“Number three ball, side pocket,” Yamato called his shot. After a moment of concentration and careful aiming, his elbow jerked forward and the number three ball did indeed fall into the side pocket indicated.

Taichi was leaning against a neighboring pool table in the nearly deserted bar. It wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet and Taichi, Yamato, and two slouchy guys in a corner were the only customers. The place was a real dump, with peeling paint on the walls and splintering chairs and tables, but there was a stage on the far end, which was how the two friends came to be at the dive. Yamato’s band played there pretty regularly, a gig scheduled that night in fact, and Yamato had developed a kind of attachment to the place.

Taichi wasn’t particularly fond of pool—what was the point of a game where you didn’t get to run? But Yamato had started playing it a lot, and he was getting pretty good at it.

“Gigs are getting less and less frequent,” Yamato was saying. “It’s a huge deal that we’ve had two in the last week.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, Sunday night and tonight.”

Taichi watched as his friend missed his shot. “You played here Sunday? No wonder Sora was so hung over for our tennis game.” Taichi knew he sounded a little bitter, but he couldn’t help it. His games with Sora were almost the only times he got to see her anymore, while Yamato saw her almost every day. Also, there was the feeling that something had gone wrong on Monday. It was Friday now and Sora had avoided him all week, even on the phone.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t realize she’d drunk that much. I saw her later Monday night and she wasn’t doing so well. We went to a park and goofed-off for a bit, playing on the monkey bars and the slide, but it wore her out. She fell asleep right there in the sand. I didn’t wake her up because she seemed to need the rest, but then I fell asleep, too.” Yamato laughed. “We didn’t wake up till morning—slept there at the foot of the slide all night.”

Taichi was having a hard time concentrating on his shot. It depressed him that Sora had played with Yamato at a playground, but didn’t want to play tennis with him. “Well, you guys were up the night before.”

“Still wasn’t a good idea though,” said Yamato, stepping forward after Taichi missed. “When we woke up, Sora’s foot had swollen up from this huge spider bite. She said she was fine, but I took her to the emergency room anyway.”

“Is she okay?” Taichi asked alarmed.

Yamato nodded, setting up his shot, “Yeah, it looked a lot worse than it was.” His ball shot into a corner pocket with a crack. While he was choosing his next shot his cell phone rang.

Pulling it out of his jacket pocket, Yamato answered, “Hello?” Then, “Oh, shit. I forgot, I’m sorry. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up, “I’m sorry, Taichi. I promised my dad I’d help him paint his bathroom.”

“That’s okay,” said Taichi, not regretting being unable to finish the game of pool. “I’ve got to meet Sora for soccer in an hour, anyway.”

They walked to the bar to pay for the two beers they’d bought, and Yamato went to use the restroom before they left.

A television hanging over the bar was broadcasting a News update: “. . . as the crisis in Cambodia continues. The Ebola virus has now taken lives in the thousands and there is still a shortage in medical supplies and volunteers with medical training. To compound the problem of the epidemic, there has also been an outbreak of dysentery in the southern regions. We now go to our correspondent . . . .”

The door to the bar was pushed open and Taichi had a reflexive reaction to the girl who walked in: he hid. Running around the corner and not daring to peek to see if she saw him, Taichi wondered what the hell Motomiya Jun was doing here? Jun was something between a stalker and a groupie Yamato had picked up in the early days of his band, and she was not the least bit discouraged by Yamato having a girlfriend. Yamato had never given her any encouragement, but the girl was not attuned to subtle hints—or outright rejections for that matter. After a year or so, she seemed to give up on Yamato, and there had been peace. Apparently, however, she had decided to return to her former victim for whatever irrational reasons an obnoxious nut case could come up with.

He heard her ask the bartender for Yamato, and he ran to the bathroom to warn his friend, who was on his way out.

“Jun’s here,” Taichi whispered.

“What?” Yamato asked, panicking. They went back into the men’s room, and looked around for an escape route. Opening a small dirty window, they took turns wriggling out into and alley. Leaning against the wall and breathing hard in their escape, the two guys looked at each other.

“Thanks man,” Yamato said.

“It wasn’t just for you; I was running, too.” Taichi grinned, “She’s freaky.”

The two friends split up, heading to their previous engagements, looking over their shoulders for Jun the entire way in paranoia.

Taichi went home to take a shower, change clothes, and have a nice jerk-off before meeting Sora—if she even came. After her behavior over the last week, he was questioning whether or not he had done something to hurt her feelings without knowing, because that happened sometimes.

However, when he got out of the shower, his sister greeted him with news that changed his plans.

“Sora’s here and waiting in the living room,” Hikari said.

He groaned. Great, without his usual preparation, he would for sure be popping a boner every few minutes. Glancing in the living room on his way to his bedroom confirmed this. Sora didn’t see him because she was talking with his mother, but he sure as hell stared at her. She was wearing a tank top which did nothing to hide the straps of her sports bra, and athletic shorts which she had cut off so short they barely covered her beautiful rear end. She had also curled the ends of her hair and was wearing a little bit of make-up. He was in trouble.

Finally dressed, he and Sora set out for the soccer field a block away. At first she was playful and easy-going, but then he touched her. It was just tucking the tag on the back of her tank top in. He hadn’t even thought about it, had done it reflexively, but she reacted immediately. She pulled away and looked at him with wide eyes, like he had just done something shocking. Taichi swallowed. Was his touch really that repellent to her?

After that he was subdued and she was wound tight, something that contributed to the two easy goals she scored in the beginning. Then Taichi snapped out of it.

The game became violent. They had both played this game for years, and they had played with each other. Not only were they both skilled, but they were also familiar with each other’s styles, tendencies and weaknesses. The game stayed close, with both of them hardly ever scoring a point against the other; there was swearing and pain and laughing. Taichi was ecstatic—this was a game. And best of all, Sora was back. His Sora was back.

When dusk announced itself, a particularly wild kick landed their ball in a tree.

“Way to go, Sora.”

“I’ll get it,” she said, half panting, half giggling.

But after studying the ball’s position in the tree for a second, she shook her head and announced, “That branch won’t hold my weight.”

After having a look himself Taichi agreed. “It’s not that high up,” he said, “I could lift you and then you could reach it.”

Her eyes snapped to his. She looked terrified.

Taichi became a little annoyed. “I won’t drop you.”

“I know that,” she snapped back.

“Then come on,” he said, making a foothold with his hands.

She hesitated.

“Sora, I’m not a fucking leper. It’s less than a minute of contact, and then you can go back to being a safe distance away.”

She looked at him, surprised by his words. She opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped. She swallowed as if to brace herself, and stepped forward, placing her hands on his shoulders and her foot in his hands.

He lifted her up, and realized immediately what a mistake this was. Not only was she touching him, one hand reaching up for the ball, the other finding its way to his neck for balance, but her crotch was also right in front of his face. The temptation to lean forward, to press his face into her, was tearing at him.

He turned away, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. He did not have a tennis racket for a shield today. He hoped she would get the damn ball fast; he may not be looking at her, but her smell was making him dizzy.

He felt her brace herself, then make a little jump, the sounds indicating that she had batted the ball out of the tree with her hand. It made her lose her balance a bit though and in an attempt to keep her from toppling and making them both fall, he had to let go of her foot, catching her waist as she dropped. But as she slid down his body and seemed to panic, spastically kicking him in the shin, they both went down.

She landed on top of him, one of her legs between his, the other to his side; one arm draped near his hip, the other caught painfully beneath him; her torso half across his. After the initial pain and disorientation wore off, his body reacted enthusiastically to the contact with hers. He knew she felt it—his erection was pressed against her thigh, and growing by the second.

He knew he should push her off him, end their contact. She was going to freak out any second now, call him a pervert—possibly hit him a few times—and walk home in a huff, never to call him again. But his body wouldn’t move; it was intoxicated by her touch, her heat.

Taichi waited for her to move, but she did not. Gradually, he heard her breathing become erratic in his ear. Then, suddenly, she shifted and her mouth was on his.

The kiss was frantic and urgent, and Taichi was in shock. Sora was kissing him. That couldn’t be right; in a few seconds he was going to snap out of an extremely graphic hallucination. But goddamn it, he was going to enjoy it while it was happening. His arms went around her, and his lips attacked hers in turn. Good God, Sora was fucking kissing him!

Her free hand traveled up his shirt and was caressing his lower stomach. He groaned and bucked his hips against her thigh, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Not breaking the contact of their mouths, she moved so that she was fully on top of him, straddling his hips with her thighs. Then she made his eyes roll back by rocking her hips against his. The shock of it wrenched his lips from hers to cry out. Then, she did it again. This time he heard her moan, too. He let her noise of pleasure wash over him. He felt her lips trail from his, along his jaw line to his ear, inserting her tongue.

With a growl, he rolled her onto her back, his right arm propping himself up at the elbow and serving as a cushion for her head, his left holding her hips in place. He moved his hips into hers violently and she screamed. He opened his eyes to look at her, thinking for a moment that might have hurt her in his fervor, but she whimpered and began wriggling against him in a desperate effort to get him to do it again. He complied. And again. The sensation of rubbing himself against her was sending pulse after pulse of electricity through him. And she was screaming—oh, God was she screaming.

“Taichi,” she cried, “Yes, Taichi, yes.”

It pushed him closer to the edge every time she said she said his name. His head fell forward into her neck, and he humped her. Again and again.

“Harder,” she begged, “harder.”

He became rougher, fierce even—and she returned the violence, giving as good as she got. He felt himself reach the brink, pleasure pouring in his veins. “Sora . . . Sora . . . Sora!”

Beneath him, he felt her tense, and cry out, too. He collapsed fully on her, breathing in her sweat and her bliss.

He never wanted to move, but his euphoria ended as Sora regained sanity.

“Oh God,” she said, pushing at him to get off her. “Oh, no. Oh God, no.”

He rolled off her and she shied away from him. She was shaking with her hands over her eyes, breaking down.

She pulled her hands away from her face and said in an unsteady voice, “Taichi, I-I have to go.”

He nodded dumbly. She turned and ran.

He sat in shock of what had just happened for several minutes, a half-hour even. At the end of which, he was aware of three things: he was going to be in big trouble with Yamato, he may have seriously damaged his relationship with Sora, and he had just dry-humped her to an orgasm.