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homsan toft ([personal profile] tofsla_fic) wrote2014-02-21 09:50 am

Identity (Niou/Yagyuu)

Prince of Tennis, Niou/Yagyuu, M
1,400 words
Total darkness and possibilities.

Niou wakes up to the sound of wind and opens his eyes to blackness - blinks a few times, his half-awake mind wondering for a moment if this is what being blind is like. None of the faint glow from streetlights, from the digital clock on his bedside table, from the hall light. It's disorientating, surreal. He could be anywhere, he thinks. It takes him longer than it should to drift far enough awake to remember that actually, this is Yagyuu's room, Yagyuu's bed. It's still too dark, regardless - the power must be off. Experimentally, he reaches out in the darkness until his hand encounters warmth, bare skin, then the fabric of Yagyuu's t-shirt.

Yagyuu stirs a little. He can't see but he feels it, hears Yagyuu's breathing shift.

"What time is it?" he asks, voice drowsy and quiet.

"Fucked if I know." Some time in the middle of the night. Everyone else must be asleep - there's no noise he can hear from inside the house. Everything is coming from outside. Niou finds himself speaking as quietly as Yagyuu almost in spite of himself. "Guess there's a powercut. Shit, it's cold."

"Mm," Yagyuu agrees, and presses an icy hand to Niou's stomach to show that he isn't the only one suffering. Niou swears again, hissed between clenched teeth, and fights to move away without much success. Yagyuu can be a bastard. Really.

"I'm not a hot water bottle," he adds a minute or so later, when Yagyuu shows no sign of removing his hand. At least some of the coldness is starting to go now. He'd be prepared to bet that Yagyuu is smirking, inches away in the darkness.

"You appear to be doing a good job as one."

Yeah. Definitely smirking. He doesn't need to see to know.

"Oh, fuck you." It's a half-hearted protest and he knows it. Yagyuu knows it too. A hint of laughter, just about suppressed. Fingers which are by now only cool, not ice-cold, slide across his skin - work their way further up under his pyjamas, across his chest, and then vanish.

He's being teased. Fucking bastard.

It feels as though his eyes should be adjusting to the dark, but when he looks over at the place he knows Yagyuu is lying he still can't make anything out. He rolls over onto his side, waves his hand experimentally in front of his face - not even a hint of motion.

The potential is obvious, and even though he's figured it out it still takes a lot of willpower to keep quiet as Yagyuu's hands ghost over his skin, little touches here and there, getting more and more certain as Yagyuu figures out where he is.

"You want to...?" Niou breathes, reaching out blindly, letting his hand trail down the length of Yagyuu's body until it rests on his hip, slides just a little further, stops just short of touching...

A still, silent moment, and then Yagyuu hums his agreement, the sound dying in a gasp as Niou, grinning to himself, moves his hand those last few centimetres and exacts a kind of revenge. It's petty, this little game of theirs - playing for a reaction, to keep control for just a little bit longer than the other - but it satisfies him immensely to win it. And really, like this, neither of them is exactly losing. Well, Yagyuu certainly seems to be enjoying himself.

Niou is pleased but not surprised when a hand manages to hook around his neck, tugging him in, tangling in his hair. Yagyuu's other hand knocks against his cheek, unintentionally rough on first contact, then gentle, tracing the lines of his face until a thumb rests against his lips, parts them slightly, withdraws. It's barely a half-second, though, before Yagyuu's mouth takes its place, cold lips and warm breath, enticing as ever.

In the darkness, Niou thinks, they could be anyone. It makes no difference still if his eyes are open or closed, and the sensory deprivation is intriguing.

"You're thinking something," Yagyuu murmurs against his lips. Niou laughs.

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

A hand runs up his side, pushes his shirt out of the way. If he shivers it's because of cold air as the cover gets knocked aside a bit - that's all.

Yeah, right.

"Tell me," Yagyuu adds, and kisses him, soft tongue brushing across his lips for just a moment.

It seems weird to say it out loud - just the shadow of something from a long time ago. Not that weirdness bothers Niou.

"When it's this dark, I can't see who you are."

Without Yagyuu's expression to guide him there's a moment of uncertainty where he wonders how Yagyuu will take it - if he will understand.

"Ah," Yagyuu says. A pause. "Who do you want me to be?"

"That's not the point," Niou breathes, though maybe it is. Kind of. He bites lightly at Yagyuu's lip, grins. "Who do you want to be?"

There's no answer, just movement beside him, and the next time Yagyuu kisses him it's something else entirely, forceful, demanding rather than suggesting. Niou responds in kind. He doesn't know if that's what Yagyuu was expecting, but he rather thinks it wasn't from the slight hesitation, the little noise Yagyuu makes before accepting the whole thing.

It might be surprising, after all. If one of them is Niou then, usually, the other one is Yagyuu. But rules are a long way from solid when it comes to the two of them, and the issue of identity is a weird one. They're just them.

"Niou," Niou says, urgently, and feels Yagyuu-who-might-as-well-be-Niou react, a hand slipping into his hair and gripping, tugging, that kind of rough edge he loves but which Yagyuu doesn't often give him.

The whole thing is somewhere between teasing and harsh, a little of both, unpredictable, a rush of touches and then slower, drawn out pleasure which still makes both of them fight to keep quiet, frustrating or incredible and intense. Both. Yagyuu makes a good Niou, maybe a better Niou than he makes himself; knows all the right ways to act and then takes it a step further, everything emphasised and made that tiny bit larger than life.

The way he touches Niou is pretty fucking amazing, anyway, driving the breath out of him along with most of his thoughts.

The rest of the world, everything outside them, doesn’t matter. But even that thought is kind of distant now, buried under the growing need he feels to get closer, more, now - however it happens, like he gives a damn. And then Yagyuu (Niou) is tugging at him, inviting or daring, and Niou lets himself be pulled on top of his partner’s warm body, grinning into the darkness at the way they fit together, not perfect but so practised it might as well be.


When the light finds them in the morning it’s disorientating all over again to look down at Yagyuu’s peacefully sleeping face and feel the line between him and me more firmly defined. Niou takes his time studying Yagyuu’s face, all the things about him which are purely his own; it’s still fucking cold outside their little cocoon of blankets, anyway. It’s not like he’s in a hurry to move.

“Good morning,” Yagyuu murmurs when his eyes finally drift open, straying sideways to where the digital clock’s face remains resolutely blank before fixing on Niou again. “It is still morning, I take it?”

“Mm,” Niou agrees. Honestly he’s not totally sure, but if he says than then Yagyuu will be in a rush to get up and make sure he hasn’t missed anything important. As far is Niou is concerned, the most important thing is that Yagyuu keeps on looking at him like that, performing a mirror of his own inspection earlier. Niou would bet he’s even thinking the same damn things.

Even in the light of day they can still sort of be each other, after all.