Citrus Series (ES21)

Notes: I think it's perfectly feasible, with Hiruma's knowledge of the United States, that he keeps up to date with the NFL and NCAA football. So, I don't know, I like the idea of him and Musashi watching NFL football games together, and watching the college bowls together on New Year's day (although they wouldn't be able to do that this year anyway). So I was going to write a fic about it, and then I thought... no, no, there has to be sex involved. So this is the result.
Kotatsu: a table with a heater built into the bottom, so people can sit with their legs underneath it and keep warm.


New Year Traditions


It was a tradition or something like that, albeit one he had been skipping out on the last few years. Not his fault, things had to be built even on the holidays, bills needed to be paid. He had heard something about some scheme Hiruma had cooked up in his absence, something to do with Hiruma and Kurita setting up shop and selling fake good luck charms to any idiots that believed in that crap, but apparently they had given up on that. Just as well.

So here they were, him and Hiruma, climbing up those stone steps to the temple. There was a crowd of people around them, but Musashi wasn't really in the position to notice something like that, as Hiruma was walking in front of him and was wearing a pair of hella tight pants. Musashi swore Hiruma was wearing those pants and walking all slow and shit to fuck with him... maybe he should just reach out and show Hiruma that his actions had consequences... but no, because now he could see the sun through the cedar trees, and a clearing appeared above the horizon.

There were more people here than the last time he had come, ambling about as they waited to get their New Year's prayers in, but then they were parting like the sea for Moses, and he saw Kurita bounding up to them. Of course both he and Hiruma sidestepped in time to avoid the physical threat that was one of Kurita's hugs, and then the beaming boy was pushing them towards the temple, one on each plump sausage-link arm. They stood together in front of the altar, the three of them all in a row, incense burning dull red in their hands as they made their New Year aspirations heard.

"Please let my old man get better soon," Musashi mumbled under his breath, "because he's fucking driving me crazy."

After that Kurita herded them inside, where mountains of wooden, cylindrical containers sat on the Kuritas' low dining room table.

"All you can eat dim sum breakfast!" Kurita exclaimed, clapping at the news, even though it was the same thing every New Year (but that's what tradition was all about, huh). After all, Kurita's father happened to be best friends with the owner of a Cantonese restaurant down the way, a pretty convenient thing when you had a son who ate as much as Kurita did.

They stuffed themselves on shrimp balls and dumplings (Kurita more so than either of them, or both of them combined actually), then Kurita's father was calling for him to sweep the courtyard, so they said their goodbyes and walked back down those stone steps.

Him and Hiruma, they had their own New Year tradition, one that didn't involve crowds or prayer or Kurita. It had started one New Year's when Hiruma's illegally hacked satellite connection to American basic cable had somehow died, blinking black and white during the third quarter of the first of several bowl games being broadcast that day. They was nothing on, nothing really to watch, and then they had found a discreet brown envelope addressed to Hiruma's dad, and a DVD inside heralding "all the hot girl on girl action a man could need". So... yeah... one thing led to another, and they had decided it was a lot more fun than watching teams they didn't really care about anyway.

So they made their way through the chill of a typical January morning, stumbled into the soft heat of the local video store. Technically they weren't supposed to be in the section of the store that they headed to, but either the clerk had gotten used to their annual search for New Year's porn (or weekly search for Saturday night porn, for that matter) or he didn't care too much in the first place. At any rate, they had already watched a good number of the videos the store had to offer, so the task of perusing the shelves for something halfway interesting was a complicated matter in itself.

"Hey," Hiruma said, and Musashi didn't have to look up to see the smirk on his face, "check this out. Fucking construction worker fetish."

Musashi cringed at the familiar outfits that costumed the muscle-bound men on the box's cover. "Jesus, put that back."

A somewhat sinister laugh, some short kind of 'fu fu fu', and Hiruma's fingers were running across the spine of a video Musashi couldn't see from his vantage point. "Straight from the United States, with subtitles and dubbing... 'Twinks of the PAC 10'."

"Now I know you're fucking with me," Musashi replied, unable to suppress a chuckle, eyes glancing over several promising titles. He fingered one of them, pulled it out to read the back of it. "I dunno... what do you think about some straight porn?"

Long fingers on his shoulder, and he could feel Hiruma looking at the text from over it. "Yeah. Alright."

As they left the store they ran into Mamori, making her own sojourn to the temple. Sena and Monta were behind her, and Suzuna was skating circles around both of them as they walked, blabbering on about something or the other. He stopped to say hello and do the pleasant conversation thing with Mamori while Hiruma, all histrionics as usual, used firearms to press the point that even though it was New Year's day didn't mean they could slack off on their training.

"Are you and Hiruma watching a movie? Which one?"

Musashi scratched his chin, looked away for a moment as he remembered. "I think it's called... something like... Yukari-chan's Bukkake Adventure. Or something like that."

And Mamori smiled in a sideways kind of way, eyes glinting, and it was pretty clear that her thoughts verged on something like "boys will be boys". Musashi had never really gotten it, the whole mother thing that Mamori did, but he had to admit it was a little endearing nonetheless. She told him to have fun and then she was off, lowerclassmen in tow.

"What the hell was that about?" Hiruma asked as they walked, gum snapping too quickly to mean he was in a pleasant mood.

"What?" Musashi asked back.

"You were being all nice with Mamori."

"Yeah?" Musashi shrugged, unconcerned. "She's a nice girl. Why wouldn't I be nice to her?"

Two loud snaps, right in succession, but Hiruma didn't say anything.

When they got to Hiruma's apartment they dropped shoes and jackets on the floor by the door, and Musashi was walking to the living room to put the DVD in. When he turned around Hiruma was spread out under the kotatsu, back propped up against the couch, very obviously not leaving any room for Musashi. Fine, whatever, Musashi thought, falling into repose on the couch. If Hiruma wanted to be a dumbass (again) then let him.

Apparently the porno started in medias res, Yukari-chan already naked and positioned inside a circle of older men in varying states of hardness, not that Musashi minded the lack of plot development. She was squirming and crying as one guy pushed her legs open, and Musashi wondered why in so much Asian porn the female lead acted like she was being raped. The camera zoomed in as the guy pressed the head of his cock against her open cunt, but then there was a noise from the floor, and Musashi looked over to see Hiruma with his mouth slightly parted, a trace of pink tongue against his upper lip. Hiruma's hand had wondered underneath the kotatsu, and the table cloth was jerking in rhythmic movements.

"Hey." Musashi shifted on the couch, reached out to tug on the tablecloth. "Let me see."

"Hell no," Hiruma said in between soft pants, moving away a little bit, and then under his breath, "fucking pussy lover."

"What are you talking about, dumbass? Come here and let me watch."

Musashi rubbed at the denim covering his crotch as Hiruma kept quiet. His cock was getting hard, but he didn't want to just jerk off by himself. His eyes flickered to the television, where some one else was now taking his turn fucking Yukari-chan, and some one (or several some ones, as the case may be) had already shot all over her tits and face. Shit. Hiruma was going to come pretty soon himself if Musashi didn't do something.

"Hey, come on, help a guy out here," Musashi tried again. "It's tradition."

"Fuck tradition. You can get yourself off."

"Come on, I'll make it worth your while."

Hiruma paused, his lips pulling into a rather devious smile. "Like how?"

"However you want," Musashi replied, knowing that was a dangerous thing to say when it came to Hiruma. But the two of them fucked so often they might as well have been in love or something stupid like that, so Hiruma wouldn't make him do anything too bad, he was sure. Right? "So come here already."

His hand wrapped around Hiruma's arm, pulled him onto the couch and on top of his body. Hiruma was sliding onto his waist now, one leg on either side, cock bobbing a little with the movement as Musashi's fingers dug into his hips.

"Go on," Musashi said, voice low and just a little winded.

Hiruma's hand slid down the curve of his stomach, passing over blond curls before running up the length of his cock. His fingers wrapped around the shaft of it, thumb pressing against the head, and then he was running his hand back and forth over himself as Musashi watched. Musashi liked Hiruma's dick, liked how it was long and slender, how it turned a dull red color right before it shot. There was pre-cum coming out of the slit now, white and pearlescent and dripping onto his sweatshirt. Fuck. Sex, Musashi decided, was not a spectator shot.

There was an awkward moment when Musashi tried to pull Hiruma forward by his waist, because fabric wasn't exactly conducive to sliding, and the other boy had to catch himself on the back of the couch to keep from falling forward. But then they were close enough so that he could lean forward and take Hiruma in his mouth, tongue pressing against the bottom before he sucked the cockhead into his mouth. He ran his tongue around it, then into the slit at the top, and he felt Hiruma arch and thread fingers through his hair.

His hands cupped Hiruma's ass and then he was fumbling with the fabric, trying to pull it off and get his hands into those pants at the same time. Clumsy movements, and he might have torn something, but he managed to get a hand down there, and then his fingers were running down the crack and tracing over a puckered hole. He slid two fingers in at once, because Hiruma didn't need much prep work, pushing the boy towards him at the same time.

More of Hiruma's cock slid into his mouth, and the smaller boy's hips moved in short thrusts as Musashi fucked him with his fingers. Musashi concentrated on sucking the best he could while pushing Hiruma forward, and pretty soon he felt the tip of Hiruma's cock at the back of his throat and short hairs tickling his nose. His own cock was starting to hurt, stiff as hell and pressed tightly against the confinement of his pants. But without him even having to say anything Hiruma was bending back, was cupping his groin with a hand, pulling his zipper down. His cock was stuck to his boxers with pre-cum, and it hurt a little when Hiruma pulled it out, but then long fingers were wrapping around him and he forgot all about that minor irritation.

Musashi leaned back, let Hiruma fall out of his mouth with one last swipe of the tongue into the slit, and half maneuvered half pushed Hiruma onto the couch.

"I'll get the condoms," Musashi said as he got up, realizing for the first time how out of breath he was. "You... well... you get your clothes off by the time I get back."

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" Hiruma shot back, already sliding out of those tight, tight pants.

Musashi discarded his own clothes as he walked the distance to Hiruma's room, leaving a trail of denim and cotton in his wake. His cock bounced a little with each step, and he reached down to give it a few tugs before grabbing the familiar box on Hiruma's desk. Back to the living room, toss the box on the table, make sure they were appropriately naked... yeah. Wouldn't do to get cum on their clothing, after all. Musashi unwrapped a condom as he got back on the couch, and the latex was cold and slippery in his hand and then on his cock as he unrolled it. Hiruma laid back on the couch, an eye on the television screen and a hand back on his cock, but then Musashi's hands were on the back of his knees, pushing his legs up and out, and his eyes weren't on the television anymore.

Musashi rubbed his cock around Hiruma's hole a little bit before taking his hand and guiding it inside. He watched as Hiruma threw his head back, but by the time he slid all the way in his eyes were completely shut and he wasn't watching anything anymore. Hiruma felt hot and soft even through the condom, and then Musashi was moving, pulling out and shoving back in as long and deep as he could. Hiruma was writhing underneath him, pushing forward to meet his thrusts, his voice an utterance of soft obscenities and heavy breathing.

It felt so good, so right, fucking Hiruma like this, and then he felt something hot and sticky spurt onto his stomach, felt his cock twitch from inside Hiruma's ass. And then he was coming and fucking at the same time, hot semen pooling at the tip of his condom until his cock went half-limp and fell out of the other boy. He nearly fell over Hiruma from the orgasm, but he caught himself, aware enough at least to pull the condom off and toss it in the nearby trash can. He was limp and sticky, and Hiruma was walking to the kitchen sans clothing to get a couple of beers. The television was blazing static, credits come and gone.

"Second round after lunch?" Hiruma asked, only it wasn't really a question.

Musashi sunk into the couch as he grabbed the remote, hit the rewind button. "Yeah."

After all, it was only tradition.

.end.