Aim for the Sky!, Counting Blue Cars

Title: Counting Blue Cars [Kobayashi/Kazuhiro]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for awful, fumbly, sunburnt first-time sex.
Summary: The Kobayashi family goes to the beach, and Kobayashi’s perfectionism is sorely tested by Kazuhiro on just about every level.
AN: What started as a random conversation about Kazuhiro at the beach somehow turned into this ridiculous epic about first times and trying too hard. Thanks to laylah for the much-needed beta, and to marksykins and musesfool for listening to me whine about this for days on end. Also, i did a little hands-on research with aloe, and BLARGH.

Counting Blue Cars

“Why would you DO this to me?” Kobayashi whines, looking back and forth from his mother’s pleasant smile to his father’s thunderous expression to the packed car to Kazuhiro’s ridiculously large yellow backpack.

It’s a Hamtaro backpack. Kobayashi wants to die.

“I thought it would be nice for us to get to know Shiyouji-kun better,” his mother smiles, vacation-happiness practically radiating from every inch of her, from her pink straw beach hat down to her matching painted toenails wiggling in her flip-flops. “Since you boys have become so close this year.”

“That’s not…” Kobayashi tries to protest, but there’s so very much to protest here that he can’t get any words out to start. The situation is so desperate that he actually looks to his father for support.

“We agreed not to talk about that,” Kobayashi-san says tightly, as tightly as he’s gripping his keys.

“We aren’t talking about it,” Kobayashi’s mother says crisply, “you are. Everyone, get in the car!”

Kobayashi throws himself into the backseat of the car, and bounces his knee when Kazuhiro wriggles over him entirely unnecessarily, hoping to hit something vital, but Kazuhiro just grins as he spills himself into the other seat in a tangle of limbs.

“Okay, look,” Kobayashi hisses while his parents aren’t quite in the car yet, adjusting the beach chairs that are corded to the roof since they wouldn’t fit in the trunk of his father’s lozenge-shaped car. “There’s gonna be rules.”

“Do I get punished if I break them?” Kazuhiro asks, eyes wide and innocent.

“No groping me!” Kobayashi starts ticking off fingers. “No unnecessary touching of any kind! Pants at all times!”

“These aren’t the fun kind of rules, Kobagin,” Kazuhiro pouts, but it isn’t reaching his eyes.

“And no talking to my father! At all!” Kobayashi finishes just as his parents slide into the car and yank their doors shut.

“So,” Kobayashi-san says approximately one minute into the drive, when they have gathered just enough speed that Kobayashi can’t seriously contemplate throwing himself out the window, even if they would roll more than halfway down, “how’s lacrosse going?”

“It’s great!” Kazuhiro exclaims, leaning forward and ignoring the way Kobayashi is hissing ‘You’re breaking rule number four, rule number four!‘ as he adds, “Kobagin’s a genius!”

“What?” asks Kobayashi-san.

“What?” asks Kobayashi.

“He uses all his shougi to come up with these amazing plays,” Kazuhiro is still yammering, “and writes drills for Captain Tsukada and teaches us secret moves and he’s beat me like seven hundred times in a row…”

“Mitsuharu, watch the road!” Kobayashi’s mother interrupts, but she sounds just a little smug.

A few minutes of silence go by in the car where Kazuhiro settles more comfortably in his seat and Kobayashi watches him, jaw dangling just a tiny bit.

“Want to play a game?” Kazuhiro asks. “I like that one where you watch out your window and see who gets the most blue cars!”

“Okay,” Kobayashi says meekly, turning towards his window. He adds “oof!” a second later when Kazuhiro’s arm drops heavily around his shoulders and he finds himself practically cheek to cheek with Kazuhiro, who is leaning towards his window. “That’s not how you play!” he protests.

“I have to make sure you don’t cheat, Kobagin,” Kazuhiro murmurs. “You’re tricky.”

“Rule number two,” Kobayashi grumbles, but doesn’t push Kazuhiro’s arm off.


“You boys should get on your trunks and head down to the beach!” Kobayashi’s mother yells up the stairs. “Just look at that water!”

Kobayashi might answer if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied, his back shoved up against the door of the room he and Kazuhiro will be sharing, his hands clutching at the warm skin of Kazuhiro’s lower back.

“Don’t waste any time, do you,” Kobayashi finally manages when Kazuhiro breaks the kiss to press their hips more firmly together.

“I’m cooperative!” Kazuhiro announces, then Kobayashi drags his head back down to keep him from spouting anymore nonsense like that.

Compliant and flexible in the aftermath, Kazuhiro is easier than usual to coax back into clothes, especially when he’s been promised warm sun and cool water, and he drags Kobayashi down the beach house’s stairs at a dangerous speed. Kobayashi manages to get his hand free of Kazuhiro’s just as they tumble into the kitchen.

“Goodness, that was quick!” Kobayashi’s mother says, looking up from the refrigerator.

“Kobayashi’s pretty fast at everything,” Kazuhiro agrees, and Kobayashi gives an indignant ‘Hey‘ and punches Kazuhiro in the arm.

“I’m going to start dinner,” Kobayashi’s mother says. “You boys have about an hour; I’ll call you when we’re ready to eat.”

Outside the back door, Kazuhiro is struck momentarily silent by the golden stretch of sand in front of him, the late afternoon sun washing everything out with gold.

“Kobagin,” he finally says, “you have your own beach!”

“We’re just renting it,” Kobayashi shrugs, but it makes him smile anyway.

Since they don’t have that long, Kobayashi talks Kazuhiro into just wave-dodging in the shallows, but when even that evokes a dangerous gleam in Kazuhiro’s eyes, he suggests building a sandcastle instead.

Their styles of building prove slightly incompatible, Kobayashi planning moats and levels and turrets while Kazuhiro prefers to just heap sand up until he can jam a stick in the top as a flag. Just as Kobayashi is about to lose his temper, an ice cold wave slaps down over their backs and levels most of their disjointed creation anyway, making Kobayashi splutter in shock and knocking off his glasses.

Spitting out sand, he’s about to snap at Kazuhiro that it isn’t funny at all, when a fuzzy shape materializes in front of him and slides his glasses back onto his nose.

“Got ’em!” Kazuhiro chirps proudly, then kisses Kobayashi without warning, his lips salty and gritty with sand.

“Dinner’s ready!” Kobayashi’s mother yells out the backdoor, scaring the daylights out of Kobayashi and making Kazuhiro laugh and poke him in the chest.


It turns out Kobayashi doesn’t have to worry about his parents finding them sleeping all tangled up together in the double bed in their room, because even vacation doesn’t stop Kazuhiro from waking up at the most ungodly hour imaginable.

“I know you’re awake,” Kazuhiro murmurs in Kobayashi’s ear, his warmth curled along Kobayashi’s back and one hand tracing slow circles on his hip. “Want to come running?”

Of course not, Kobayashi tries to say, but Kazuhiro slips his hand lower to run fingers just under Kobayashi’s T-shirt and sucks the little hollow just behind Kobayashi’s ear, and Kobayashi groans “Uh-huh,” instead.

“Great, let’s go!” Kazuhiro bounces out of bed, leaving Kobayashi to sit up, blinking in confusion.

It’s a little cool on the beach, but it’s clear it’ll be a hot day in a few hours. Kobayashi yawns as he stretches to warm up, Kazuhiro’s hands pushing down warmly on his back.

They do a few suicides down by the water’s edge, the give of the sand making their calves burn much more quickly, but Kobayashi grits his teeth and does the whole set alongside Kazuhiro. He’s glad his cheeks are already bright with exertion when Kazuhiro winks and comments on how much better his stamina’s gotten.

Kobayashi waves Kazuhiro off to do his real run and flops down in the sand to catch his breath. His breathing doesn’t exactly slow as he tracks Kazuhiro’s movement down the shore, long legs stretched with the sheer joy of running, bare back slick from their practice. He leans back on his elbows when Kazuhiro is finally out of sight, digging little holes in the sand with his heels and staring vacantly over the water.

“Oh man, that felt great!” Kazuhiro exclaims when he returns barely ten minutes later, and Kobayashi figures he must not have gone much farther out of sight. He collapses in the sand on his back, panting hard and face glowing with pleasure. “What’re you looking at?”

Shrugging, Kobayashi reaches down to run fingers through Kazuhiro’s sweat-flattened hair as Kazuhiro rolls just enough to press his cheek against Kobayashi’s shorts and throw an arm over his thighs in a lazy hug.

They spend the whole morning screwing around on the beach, Kobayashi’s father firmly under the umbrella and Kobayashi’s mother sitting in her beach chair close enough to the water’s edge that the waves come up over her brightly painted toenails. Kazuhiro and Kobayashi stay mostly in the water, letting the waves knock them down and riding some of them into shore, until the tide gets rougher and Kazuhiro gets the wind knocked out of him and comes up coughing hard and with wide eyes.

Kobayashi’s mother brings sandwiches and bottles of lemonade down from the house and they take a break, squeezing under the umbrella. Kobayashi winces as Kazuhiro launches into one lacrosse story after another, waving his hands wildly at all the good parts and making Kobayashi out to be some kind of lacrosse superhero.

“Will you knock it off!” Kobayashi finally exclaims, pinching Kazuhiro’s side until he cuts off with a squeak. “Talk about yourself for awhile or something. Kazuhiro’s got the highest number of shots on the goal.”

“Left Hand Suzuki Method!” Kazuhiro exclaims, looking pleased, and nudges Kobayashi with an elbow. Kobayashi’s father raises an eyebrow.

“He’s ambidextrous,” Kobayashi adds, rolling his eyes.

“Ah,” his father says, “that explains how…” but cuts off when Kobayashi’s mother clears her throat.

After lunch, Kobayashi’s parents head inside, but the boys stay out, avoiding the heat of the high sun by heading far enough out in the water to dive for seashells and having contests to see who can hold their breath the longest. When Kobayashi’s legs tire out from treading water, Kazuhiro sweet-talks him into wrapping arms around his neck and swims back to shore, arms flexing in strong, lazy strokes.

They stave off boredom for a little longer by digging for sand crabs and building a marginally more successful sandcastle. Kobayashi takes a well-deserved nap at one point, and wakes up completely buried in the sand, only able to move his head enough to find a self-satisfied Kazuhiro snoring right beside him, head pillowed on his sand-caked arms and swim trunks nowhere to be found.

By evening, Kazuhiro’s skin is glowing with something that is definitely not pleasure.

“Kobagiiiiiin,” he whines, lying on the bed stomach-down, his whole body an angry red.

“What did you expect? You didn’t put any sunscreen on!” Kobayashi’s voice isn’t that harsh though, and he winces a little when he sits down on the bed and presses a hand to Kazuhiro’s skin to leave a bright white handprint.

“It’s all greasy and it smells funny,” Kazuhiro replies, but his voice is small, like the time he sprained his wrist, and Kobayashi sighs and swallows the retort hovering on his tongue.

“Here, I brought something to help,” he says instead, and holds up a clear bottle of green gel.

“What’s—AH!” Kazuhiro yelps when Kobayashi slaps a palmful of the cold gel down on his skin. He squirms, but Kobayashi holds him down.

“It’s aloe vera,” Kobayashi explains, rubbing both his palms over the heat of Kazuhiro’s back. “It’ll take some of the sting out of the sunburn. Hold still!”

Whining piteously, Kazuhiro stops fighting, and after a minute, relaxes under Kobayashi’s hands. He obeys when Kobayashi tells him to roll over, hissing when Kobayashi drops another cold glob onto his chest.

“Holy crap, is there any place you didn’t burn?” Kobayashi shakes his head and is glad his face got a little too much sun as well as he moves down lower.

“No,” Kazuhiro pouts. “I hurt all over. Kiss it better?”

“No way,” Kobayashi says. “Is it helping yet?”

“Gnuh,” Kazuhiro grunts noncommittally and reaches out to grab Kobayashi’s wrist, sliding his hand over from his own thigh to press against the beginnings of his erection. “How about just distracting me?”

“I thought you hurt?” Kobayashi raises an eyebrow and tightens his grip around Kazuhiro, stroking just once. “All over?”

“Mm, what?” Kazuhiro pushes up into Kobayashi’s hand, eyes fluttering a little. His skin is so hot, Kobayashi wants to run his tongue over it, leave a slick trail that would make Kazuhiro gasp when the air gets at it, but he isn’t exactly itching to eat aloe vera.

He’s jerked out of his thoughts when Kazuhiro, hand still wrapped around Kobayashi’s, moves it even lower, so that Kobayashi’s fingers are sliding against the soft skin behind Kazuhiro’s balls. Kobayashi knows the whites are probably showing the whole way around his eyes, but Kazuhiro is smiling at him in encouragement.

“Kazuhiro!” Kobayashi almost jerks his hand back, but the combination of the heat of Kazuhiro’s body and the hopeful expression lurking behind his grin make Kobayashi leave it where it is for a second. “I…it’ll…I mean, I’m trying to make you hurt less.”

“S’okay, really,” Kazuhiro says, and he’s moving Kobayashi’s fingers around and then pushing down and suddenly Kobayashi is up to his second knuckle in sunburned streaker.

Both of them whimper loudly, and it’s Kazuhiro who gives a strained but comically loud “Shhh, your mother,” and Kobayashi scowls and shoves in further.

“What, um,” Kobayashi swallows, wondering how anybody even figured out that sex was possible given the tight throb of Kazuhiro around just one finger and also if he can get his trunks off one-handed, “what now?”

“You’re not a very good genius, Kobagin,” Kazuhiro murmurs, drawing Kobayashi’s hand out and moving around his fingers some more.

“I’m not a sex genius, you idiot,” Kobayashi retorts, then he finally gets the idea and slides two fingers in, going much more slowly. Kazuhiro’s breath is coming in short pants, and Kobayashi can’t figure out whether the way he’s twisting his fingers in the sheets is good or bad, so he leans forward and sucks Kazuhiro’s tip into his mouth, figuring how bad can aloe vera really be?

Really, really, really bad, he learns, and comes up spluttering, but when Kazuhiro jerks in surprise, Kobayashi’s fingers sink in just that much deeper and Kazuhiro makes a noise that is definitely good.

“Again, please?” Kazuhiro begs, edging up on his elbows to see, and Kobayashi frowns and takes a handful of tries before he draws a long “haaaaaahn” out of Kazuhiro.

His hands are shaking, Kobayashi realizes, all of him is, and he pulls his fingers out of Kazuhiro, shivering harder when Kazuhiro makes a pleading and dissatisfied noise. He doesn’t move for a second, and they stare at each other, the aloe almost entirely dry on Kazuhiro’s skin.

Finally Kazuhiro reaches out to draw Kobayashi down against his chest and kisses him, slow and gentle. Their erections are trapped in between them, pressed tightly together, but Kazuhiro doesn’t do anything about it but kiss Kobayashi more, and Kobayashi finally wraps arms around Kazuhiro’s waist and squeezes him hard.

“Don’t be scared,” Kazuhiro finally says, but it’s more of a command than a reassurance, and when Kobayashi petulantly demands why not, answers, “Because I really want to do it.”

Kobayashi peers at Kazuhiro for a second, processing that, before asking, “Why aren’t you scared?”

“Because I get to do it with you, Kobagin.” Kazuhiro grins, kisses Kobayashi again quickly, and then disentangles himself from the bed to stand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Kobayashi asks suspiciously, but lets Kazuhiro tug him off the bed as well.

“Shower.” Kazuhiro tilts his head to touch his tongue against his shoulder and grimaces. “I taste terrible.”

The tiny shower stall in the beach house’s bathroom isn’t ideal, but Kazuhiro presses Kobayashi up against the wall to shield him from the too-cold water, and Kobayashi fervently agrees that Kazuhiro’s collarbone tastes much better after their fingers have wiped away the aloe.

By the time they get out, fingers wrinkled and eyes heavy-lidded, Kazuhiro’s skin isn’t quite as violently red anymore, and he only winces a little when he throws himself down on the bed.

“How about now?” he asks, holding out hands to Kobayashi, and Kobayashi flushes and yanks him back off the bed so he can shake the sand out of their sheets.


Lightning wakes Kobayashi up in the middle of the night, a bright flash through the window that he thinks he might have imagined for a second, until the subsequent thunder rolls overhead. Yawning, he turns his head enough to see Kazuhiro slack with sleep beside him, back on his stomach, his boxers a thing of the past. His eyes still look a little pinched at the corners, and he shifts when Kobayashi reaches over to press fingers against his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Kazuhiro cracks an eye as Kobayashi slides his palm down Kazuhiro’s side, marveling at the heat and smoothness of his skin, at the shift of Kazuhiro’s muscles as he stretches a little under the attention.

“How about now?” Kobayashi asks, and Kazuhiro blinks at him several times before pouncing him.

“Ow,” he grunts softly as he tries to grin and kiss Kobayashi at the same time, throwing a leg over his thighs and running a hand down his spine, “ow, ow, ow.”

“You shouldn’t do it if it hurts!” Kobayashi protests, trying to keep his hands gentle as he skims them over Kazuhiro’s ribs, but it’s hard when Kazuhiro is pressing so tightly against him, like he can’t possibly be close enough.

“Kobagin,” Kazuhiro doesn’t so much break the kiss as slide his lips up Kobayashi’s cheekbone so some words can leak out of the corner of his mouth, “breathing hurts. At least this feels good at the same time.”

Kobayashi can’t really find the breath to argue as Kazuhiro peels off Kobayashi’s T-shirt and boxers, then coaxes Kobayashi’s knee in between his thighs to grind down against.

“We still only have the aloe, you know,” he finally manages.

“Just don’t put it anyplace you want to lick,” Kazuhiro shrugs. Kobayashi opens his mouth without thinking and just barely manages to stop himself from saying something utterly embarrassing, but his face must give him away, because Kazuhiro gives a delighted laugh and squeezes him even harder. “Kobagin, you sweet talker.”

Kobayashi tries to splutter a response, but Kazuhiro is still laughing at his expense, and pushing the bottle of aloe into his hands. Kobayashi takes his revenge by leaning down to bite one of Kazuhiro’s nipples, and grinning viciously when Kazuhiro jerks against him.

He gets his wish this time, licking slow paths down Kazuhiro’s chest and stomach, making him struggle and beg, and it’s a good thing the storm is starting in earnest now so that the rain and thunder will drown most of Kazuhiro’s poorly muffled noises.

Careful to only get aloe on one hand, which is a bit awkward when his other hand is occupied with holding Kazuhiro’s cock steady for his mouth, Kobayashi takes a deep breath and sucks hard as he pushes a finger into Kazuhiro. Kazuhiro hisses a slow breath when he adds a second finger, and Kobayashi slows to figure out what made Kazuhiro beg him for more last time. It’s hard to go slowly with Kazuhiro so tight and hot around him, hard to breathe or to think about anything besides replacing his fingers with his cock.

“You’re a tease!” Kazuhiro whimpers at him, startling him out of his careful exploration, and Kobayashi lets Kazuhiro slip out of his mouth to demand just where he’s going in such a big hurry anyhow. “There!” Kazuhiro exclaims suddenly, pushing down against Kobayashi’s hand.

“Here?” Kobayashi asks innocently, purposely moving away and smirking when Kazuhiro growls at him and tries to shift down to follow. “Or here?”

“Come ON already, Kobagin!” Kazuhiro demands, the catch in his voice making the hair on the back of Kobayashi’s neck raise. His lower lip is stuck out and his eyes are dark and wide, and Kobayashi thinks it really isn’t fair at all when Kazuhiro reaches for him and adds, “Please?

Maybe they should turn on the lights so he can see what he’s doing, Kobayashi thinks, but the lightning seems to be more than good enough for Kazuhiro to steal back the bottle of aloe and run slippery fingers both over Kobayashi and inside himself. Kobayashi is compliant, if anxious, when Kazuhiro takes his hand and helps him line himself up, and he makes a helpless noise when his cock slips against the crack of Kazuhiro’s ass.

Then Kazuhiro gets a good grip on Kobayashi’s waist and yanks him forward.

Kobayashi isn’t sure which one of them made the noise, high and startled and pained, but Kazuhiro’s eyes are huge and wet and Kobayashi realizes he’s digging his fingers deep into Kazuhiro’s burned shoulders.

“Sorry!” he exclaims, trying to pull back, but that makes Kazuhiro yelp, and he freezes, heart stuttering. Kazuhiro is taking shallow breaths underneath him, trembling finely, and Kobayashi has no idea what he’s going to do next, except to keep saying, “sorry, sorry, sorry,” while he hates himself for wanting to shove in farther because it feels really fucking good.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Kazuhiro admits finally, and Kobayashi would retort that he had pretty much figured that out, except his throat feels tight and weird and crying during sex is about the only embarrassing thing he hasn’t done yet today. Except for the other really embarrassing thing that Kobayashi is almost certainly going to do if Kazuhiro doesn’t stop shivering underneath him while he’s wrapped so tightly around Kobayashi’s cock.

He lets go of Kazuhiro’s shoulders to balance himself on his elbows and gingerly lowers himself enough to brush their cheeks together and tell him it’s fine, hoping his voice won’t crack that much if he whispers. He tugs at Kazuhiro’s hair a little where he can reach, rubbing small circles with his fingertips.

It makes Kazuhiro’s breathing slow and gives Kobayashi an idea. He leans his weight onto just one elbow and runs his free hand down Kazuhiro’s side, thumbing the dips of his ribs and the sharp point of his hip, then dragging his fingers back up to start over again. He realizes that he’s still talking, telling Kazuhiro that it’s okay, that it’s good, he feels really good, and he dimly hopes that orgasm comes with some sort of retroactive amnesia.

“Kobagin,” Kazuhiro says finally, his arms tight around Kobayashi’s neck, and he rocks up into Kobayashi once, making him gasp. After a pause, he does it again, then settles into a slow pulse of pushing up against Kobayashi’s hips that shreds at Kobayashi’s ephemeral control.

“Kazuhiro,” Kobayashi tries to warn, pushing at Kazuhiro’s hip, but Kazuhiro keeps on saying his name as he moves, low and sweet, and Kobayashi doesn’t really have any better chance than his sandcastle did when his orgasm slaps down over his spine.

As soon as he can pull himself together to do more than just shudder, Kobayashi pulls away from Kazuhiro, wincing at the way Kazuhiro grunts and grabs at Kobayashi’s shoulders. Kobayashi wraps a coaxing hand around Kazuhiro’s cock, and Kazuhiro curls up tightly along Kobayashi’s side and presses his forehead against Kobayashi’s neck.

Even after he comes, Kazuhiro doesn’t move or loosen his grip, and as Kobayashi is inclined to agree so far as getting up is concerned, he reaches over the side of the bed and swings his arm blindly until he snags his T-shirt. It’s the least he can sacrifice for the cause, he figures as he wipes Kazuhiro off, trying to be gentle and to ignore the whimpers Kazuhiro’s lips are brushing against his collarbone.


“Ow,” groans Kazuhiro, and Kobayashi wakes up feeling like the biggest, stickiest jerk ever. Kazuhiro is unwinding his limbs from Kobayashi, grunting when their skin pulls, and sliding from bed. His footsteps sound slightly uneven as he pads out of the room.

It’s still raining, drops pattering steadily against the window, and Kobayashi buries his face in his pillow. He should go make sure Kazuhiro’s okay, he thinks as he hears the shower starting up, but instead just lies there and hides until Kazuhiro presses a damp hand to his shoulder and says his mother’s making pancakes.

“You boys look terrible!” Kobayashi’s mother says as she sets plates in front of them, heaped with golden pancakes. She’s drawn smiley faces on the top with syrup; Kobayashi scowls and flips his over with his fork. “Did the storm keep you up?”

Kazuhiro mumbles something through a mouthful of pancake that Kobayashi has a sinking suspicion is an actual description of what kept him up but is thankfully completely unintelligible.

“No beach for us today!” Kobayashi’s father announces, clearly trying and failing to use his ‘this is a tragedy!’ voice. Kobayashi’s mother gives him the Eye. “How about a movie instead?”

The two-house movie theater in town is playing a historic drama on one screen and a badly-dubbed American Western on the other. Kobayashi’s mother drags his father to the drama, gushing about the beauty of the kimonos in the poster, but Kobayashi and Kazuhiro opt for the Western so they can make fun of how the actors’ lips keep moving after the talking stops.

They sit in the back row and their popcorn runs out about ten minutes into the movie, but right after the bandits attack the train, Kobayashi feels butter-slick fingers sliding against his own, and looks down to find Kazuhiro has curled his arm over the armrest to hold hands.

It’s totally an accident that he turns his head to look too fast and Kazuhiro is leaning too close and his lips brush Kazuhiro’s cheekbone.


After dinner, Kobayashi’s mother informs them they’re going to play a board game all together, but when they raid the beach house’s closet, they find their options are Yahtzee with only four dice, Life which Kazuhiro refuses to play on the grounds that he always ends up with a bunch of pink pegs, and Trivial Pursuit which makes Kobayashi’s mother groan, but Kobayashi’s father reminds her that she’s the one who wanted to play.

“Yasumitsu’s on my team!” he announces as soon as she gives in.

“Mitsuharu!” she pouts. “That’s not fair, you two always beat me! You should at least let the boys play together.”

“It’s okay, Kobayashi-san!” Kazuhiro interrupts, reaching over and plucking the green wedge-holder up just as Kobayashi is reaching for it. “We won’t lose to them!”

Kobayashi rolls his eyes and picks up blue and doesn’t smile at all when Kazuhiro sticks out his tongue and makes an obscene gesture at his side with his left hand.

Forty-five minutes later, he’s making the same hand signal, but without the grin.

“Shusaku Honinbo!” Kobayashi exclaims, holding up one hand for a high-five from his father and his other for a yellow wedge from Kazuhiro.

“There aren’t any yellow in here,” Kazuhiro reports, rifling through the box. “Here, just take another orange.”

“Then we won’t know which ones we have already,” Kobayashi-san protests, but Kobayashi’s mother points at her team’s lone pink wedge and says that she doesn’t think it’ll be a problem.

“They’re always like that, you know,” she says while the winners are cleaning up and the losers are fetching drinks from the kitchen. Kazuhiro has a soda in a each hand, and Kobayashi’s mother has already drunk half her beer. “The last thing I beat Yasumitsu at was Go Fish when he was five.”

“He’s not really a lacrosse genius.” Kazuhiro switches the sodas over to one hand to pat Kobayashi’s mother on the shoulder. “He’s just such a sore loser, we let him win a lot.”

That makes Kobayashi’s mother laugh so hard she has to lean against the counter, and Kazuhiro ducks his head when she ruffles his hair and says he’s a good boy.

“I used to let Mitsuharu win shougi games all the time,” she says, and Kazuhiro turns back from the doorway he’d been about to escape through with one eyebrow raised. “We met at a junior high tournament, you know.”

“You’re a lot like your dad, huh?” Kazuhiro asks later in their room, sprawled across the bed the wrong way, chin pillowed on his arms.

“I am not!” Kobayashi leans over to knock Kazuhiro’s feet off the pillow. “You’re getting sand everywhere. How’s that even possible, we haven’t even been to the beach today!”

“No, you are,” Kazuhiro insists, rolling over to his side and patting the spot beside him. “You’re both really smart and you worry too much and your glasses even look alike.”

“Oh god,” Kobayashi says weakly and sits down.

“And you get upset when things don’t go exactly like you want the first time through.”

Kobayashi turns to find Kazuhiro resting his chin on the heel of his hand and it might be the first time Kobayashi’s seen him not smiling.

Well, not the first, and Kobayashi looks away quickly and tries to get up, but Kazuhiro wraps the fingers of his free hand around Kobayashi’s wrist and tugs him back down.

“Come here,” he says, “come here,” and Kobayashi somehow ends up curled up the wrong way on the bed while Kazuhiro tells him the most ridiculous story about his parents and a shougi tournament.


“Kobagiiiiiin,” Kazuhiro whines, squirming.

“Sit STILL,” Kobayashi orders, squeezing Kazuhiro’s shoulders until he yelps and his butt thunks back down on the beach towel. Kobayashi rolls his eyes and squirts sunblock onto his palm. “Honestly, do you want sun poisoning?”

“It smells funny,” Kazuhiro grumbles, but he doesn’t move while Kobayashi makes sure that he’s run fingers over every inch of Kazuhiro at least once.

He sort of forgets exactly what he’s doing and jumps about six inches in the air when his father clears his throat.

“You’re fine!” Kobayashi drops the bottle of sunblock like a package of Natsumi-chan’s cookies and bolts for the water.

“Hey, Kobagin,” Kazuhiro says when they’re floating on their backs in the water, eyes closed against the glare of the sun and Kobayashi’s fingers wrapped around Kazuhiro’s wrist just tight enough that he won’t drift off to god knows where.

“Hmm?” Kobayashi thinks about turning his head, but doesn’t want to upset the delicate truce his buoyancy has struck with the ocean.

Kazuhiro doesn’t actually say anything else, but twists his hand until Kobayashi’s fingers slide down from his wrist to tangle with his own.

He groans when Kobayashi pulls him to shore for more sunblock, but is appeased when Kobayashi’s mother digs some money out of her beach bag and sends them off to get lunch on the boardwalk.

They buy a bucket of fries the size of Kobayashi’s head and put enough vinegar on them to make their lips sting. Kobayashi tries not to stare when Kazuhiro tosses the last few fries to a clot of squabbling seagulls and sucks salt off his fingers. There’s enough money left over for sno-cones, and Kobayashi snickers when Kazuhiro spends so much time watching Kobayashi nibble on the top of his cherry ice that his own paper cone leaks blue syrup all over the back of his hand.

It seems like too much work to swim out past the surf when they get back to the water, so they wade out just far enough to scoop handfuls of water at each other and dive into the waves that come rolling in.

Kobayashi is just coming up from one wave, when another slaps over his head too quickly, leaving him coughing and wiping at his eyes. The sinking feeling starts when the water level drops to his calves and he clears the water out of his eyes just in time to see Kazuhiro laughing and pointing at him, blissfully unaware of the wall of water rising behind him.

Kobayashi has exactly enough time to suck in his breath and try and turn his shoulder to the wave before it slams into him, dragging him under until his back scrapes the ocean floor. He pushes him up, wet sand sucking at his palms, and breaks the surface of the water already scanning for Kazuhiro.

He sees him a half-dozen yards away, floating face-down, and Kobayashi’s heart tries to claw its way out of his throat as he throws himself through the thigh-deep water at a stumbling run. He lurches the last two feet to grab Kazuhiro’s upper arm and yank him face-up.

Kazuhiro’s lips are tinged blue and for a split-second Kobayashi just freezes, and he can’t feel Kazuhiro’s skin under his fingers or the sand under his feet.

Then he’s yelling Kazuhiro’s name and shaking him and trying to remember what Marty-san did when Harada inhaled an entire tuna roll, and then Kazuhiro cracks one eye, and he’s smirking and Kobayashi wraps hands around his neck and shoves him back down into the water.

Of course it’s Kobayashi who swallows a lungful of water and gets dragged to shore, sprawled unceremoniously in the sand while Kazuhiro pounds his back.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot!” Kazuhiro is exclaiming, eyes huge and holding up the back of his hand, still stained blue.

Kobayashi collapses onto Kazuhiro’s lap while Kazuhiro keeps apologizing breathlessly, nose pressed against the soft skin of Kazuhiro’s stomach, and the shaking is only because he can’t stop coughing.


“I said, it’s okay!” Kobayashi says when Kazuhiro apologizes for the two thousandth time, and he meant to yell it but he keeps picturing Kazuhiro’s lips tinged blue and can’t quite catch all of his breath.

“You looked really scared,” Kazuhiro says quietly, staring down at his hands twisted together in his lap. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, fully clothed, and it’s that more than anything that makes Kobayashi climb onto the bed and into Kazuhiro’s lap, sliding palms over Kazuhiro’s cheeks to force him to tilt his face up.

“I was really scared,” he says, “but you’re okay, okay? It’s fine.”

“I didn’t meant to scare you.” Kazuhiro’s hands are still in his lap, and Kobayashi finally catches on that Kazuhiro isn’t just talking about that afternoon, but maybe also about the way they haven’t even gotten to second base in the last two days.

He kisses Kazuhiro, thumbing his cheekbones, until Kazuhiro’s eyes flutter shut, then pulls back just enough to tell him it’s okay again before kissing him not so gently at all, gripping Kazuhiro’s hair behind his head to tilt it further back. When Kazuhiro’s hands finally move to press against Kobayashi’s waist, he pushes Kazuhiro down until he’s flat on his back. His legs fall open enough for Kobayashi to settle between them with a surprised grunt.

Kazuhiro turns his head to the side and pushes at Kobayashi. “Sorry!”

“Will you stop apologizing!” Kobayashi finally does explode. “I’m the one who hurt you!

“But…” Kazuhiro turns his head back to peer at Kobayashi, brow furrowed. “But I wanted you to.”

“What difference does that make?” Kobayashi demands, grabbing Kazuhiro’s wrists and forcing them down into the mattress on either side of Kazuhiro’s head. “I shouldn’t have…” Kobayashi shakes his head a little when his words stick in his throat. “I didn’t want…”

“But you did want, right?” Kazuhiro asks, and Kobayashi notices his fingers twiddling at the sheets and realizes that just this once, Kazuhiro is not trying to get under his skin. “Because I did.”

“Why?” Kobayashi asks, then backpedals when Kazuhiro’s mouth pinches at the corners. “I mean, if it hurts.”

“Kobagin!” Kazuhiro laughs, like Kobayashi is teasing, then takes another look at him, and his expression softens a little. “Show you?”

“Wait a second!” Kobayashi protests, but Kazuhiro is already arching up against him and rolling them over, stripping Kobayashi with a ruthless efficiency borne of extensive experience. Kobayashi’s protests turn into a muffled groan when Kazuhiro slithers down to nuzzle his hipbone.

“Don’t hold back,” Kazuhiro says, darting his tongue out to taste Kobayashi’s skin. “You’re parents won’t be back from dinner for ages, so you can make all the noise you want.”

“All the noise you want, you mean,” Kobayashi replies, breath hitching as Kazuhiro wraps a loose hand around Kobayashi’s cock and winks at him before moaning loudly.

He goes on nibbling and sucking at Kobayashi’s hip, running his tongue along the crease of Kobayashi’s thigh until Kobayashi has his fingers twisted in the sheets and is making a constant stream of pleading noises.

And then Kazuhiro bites down hard, right over the point of Kobayashi’s hip, and Kobayashi yelps and arches and grabs Kazuhiro’s hair and pulls too hard to tell whether he’s pulling him closer or yanking him away.

“Hmm, didn’t it hurt?” Kazuhiro purrs when he lifts his head; Kobayashi whines needily when Kazuhiro slicks the perfect, red bitemark with the pink of his tongue. He thumbs the head of Kobayashi’s cock and grins at the drag of fluid across it. “But my little friend here seems to think he liked it just fine.”

“That’s not fair!” Kobayashi protests, struggling to sit up and growling when Kazuhiro pushes him right back down and snickers. “Not when you’re…”

“On top of you?” Kazuhiro asks, raising an eyebrow. “Touching you? Telling you that you feel really good and you’re really really cute?”

“I didn’t say that last part,” Kobayashi says, cheeks heating and wriggling in protest, but the way Kazuhiro is sliding up his body does feel really good, his skin soft from the ocean and warm with sunburn.

“But it’s true, right? Right?” Kazuhiro laughs and starts rolling them back over, but Kobayashi puts his hands on Kazuhiro’s shoulders.

“Wait wait,” Kobayashi’s laughing too, and he’s not sure why, but it helps him squeeze out the words even though he’s blushing fiercely. “Maybe it’ll be easier if you’re…you know, if we’re…like this.”

Kazuhiro sits up a little, straddling Kobayashi’s hips and tilts his head a little. “Like this, huh?” His mouth is twitching, like it can’t decide whether to grin or to smile, and suddenly Kobayashi can breath a little more deeply again. “Kobagin, bored with the missionary position already?”

“That’s not what…” Kobayashi splutters, but Kazuhiro leans down and cuts him off with a kiss, messy and affectionate, and Kobayashi’s hands come to rest on Kazuhiro’s hips and he thinks that he might be starting to see why Kazuhiro likes being underneath so much.

Kazuhiro’s got a longer reach anyway, which means he doesn’t have to roll off Kobayashi to snag the bottle of aloe off the corner of the bedside table. It’s a bit awkward trying to slide fingers into Kazuhiro this way, in no small part because Kazuhiro’s ‘help’ seems to consist of skimming his fingers over every place on Kobayashi’s chest that’s even mildly ticklish. It’s more than worth it, though, when his grip on Kazuhiro’s hips means he can force him to slide down onto his cock slowly, and if the slowness makes both of them a little crazy, the impatience in Kazuhiro’s eyes is a hell of a lot sexier than the hurt was.

There’s still a really good chance that Kobayashi won’t last much longer this time than he did the first time, especially not now that he’s got a really good view of Kazuhiro pushing himself down onto Kobayashi and tilting his head back to bare his throat, now that he’s realized that the true glory in this position is his unobstructed access to Kazuhiro’s cock.

Or maybe it’s in the way Kazuhiro stares down at him, mouth slack with pleasure and eyes fluttering when Kobayashi squeezes his hand more tightly around Kazuhiro and pushes his hips up into him.

Wow, he thinks when Kazuhiro spills hot and slick over his hand, and then hey, I won, but that’s before Kazuhiro grins down at him, eyes only a glimmer underneath his lashes, and somehow tightens muscles that no ordinary person should have any control over, and then keeps on doing it until what’s spilling from Kobayashi is Kazuhiro’s name, over and over.

“Hmm,” Kazuhiro hums when he’s flopped stickily on top of Kobayashi, forehead pressed against Kobayashi’s neck. “Yasumitsu.”

“Huh?” Kobayashi, who’s been thinking vaguely about crawling out of bed to get something to clean them up, wonders why his name sounds so strange when Kazuhiro says it.

“Yasumitsu,” Kazuhiro repeats, deliberate, like he’s trying it out.

“What are you saying my name like that for?” Kobayashi narrows his eyes, but the top of Kazuhiro’s head isn’t offering any answers.

“Dunno, it’s nice.” Kazuhiro shrugs a little; Kobayashi wrinkles his nose. “Besides, you could have some great nicknames, like Mitsuko or Yasu-pi…”

“How about,” Kobayashi interrupts loudly, pinching the soft skin on the back of Kazuhiro’s neck, “you just stick with Kobagin?”

“Sure, Kobagin,” Kazuhiro agrees immediately, and Kobayashi realizes a heartbeat later that he’s totally just lost this argument.


“We used to go to the beach every summer when I was little,” Kazuhiro explains, on his back next to Kobayashi in the sand.

His chest is rising and falling quickly, sand sticking to the sweat he worked up running, and Kobayashi has given up trying to work out how Kazuhiro can talk him into anything that isn’t sleep-clumsy handjobs this early in the morning, especially on their last day of vacation.

“But then my brothers started going to cram school in the summer and taking entrance exams and…” Kazuhiro picks up one hand and waves it vaguely. “Everyone got busy, you know?”

Kobayashi thinks he might be on the verge of actually figuring Kazuhiro out, the streaking and the pigtail pulling and the bad nicknames and everything, but he doesn’t care, because he’d much rather put his hands on Kazuhiro’s bright red chest and lick the salt off Kazuhiro’s lips than ask a bunch of stupid questions.


“Hey, Kobagin, want to play a game?”

Kobayashi yawns, still staring out the back window of the car at the gas station they’ve stopped at before really getting on the road. His father has gone inside to pay for the gas, and his mother is buying them sodas and chips from the vending machine.

“Oh, that game again?” Kobayashi asks when Kazuhiro’s arm drapes heavily over his shoulders and his cheek slides along Kobayashi’s.

But Kobayashi’s eyes startle wide when Kazuhiro kisses him, lips chapped and sneaky.

“I win!” Kazuhiro laughs, flopping back into his own seat.

“The hell you do,” Kobayashi growls, unbuckling his seatbelt and pouncing.

When his mother taps on the window with one can of soda, Kobayashi jumps six inches in the air and barely manages to scramble back into his seat before his parents slide into the car.

“I think you boys got too much sun,” his mother admonishes as she hands back the sodas and the chips. “Yasumitsu, what happened to that aloe lotion I gave you?”

Kazuhiro mumbles something through a mouthful of chips that is almost certainly the truth, and Kobayashi presses his soda to his forehead and hopes that school will be slightly less nerve-wracking than his vacation.

And also for lots of blue cars out Kazuhiro’s window.

Be the first to like.

WordPress Themes