AftS!, Window of Opportunity

Title Window of Opportunity [Tachiki/Misaki, Sato/Asakawa/Misaki]
Rating/Warnings: Seigaku NC-17 for threesome, anal, rimming, biting, uhh…yes.
Summary: Misaki takes it. A lot.
AN: Thanks to musesfool for betaing outside her fandom and telling me all the body parts were in the right places. Marks wears the Jacketo, yo. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARKS!!!!!!!! <3

Window of Opportunity

Misaki woke most of the way up when the first rock smacked into his window; the second one caught him right in the forehead as he was lifting the pane.

“Sorry!” Tachiki stage whispered from the ground, teeth glinting brightly.

“Shut up,” Misaki growled, too quiet to be heard from the ground anyway. He finished shoving the window up and flopped down on his back across his bed.

After about a minute, there was the clunk of Tachiki’s sneakers hitting the sill, and then the bed shifted as his weight dropped heavily onto it. Misaki barely bothered to peel his eyes open again when a hand caught at his hair to tilt his head back and chapped lips slanted roughly against his.

Tachiki smelled like smoke and watermelon bubble gum, the leather of his jacket creaking when Misaki clenched fingers at his waist, and his weight settling over Misaki’s body felt good shielding him from the early spring draft coming in the still-open window. The denim of Tachiki’s jeans was rough where Misaki slipped fingers in between Tachiki’s waistband and warm skin.

“Eager?” Tachiki smirked, pulling Misaki’s head back farther to press teeth against his neck.

“What you’re…ah,” Misaki’s back flexed when Tachiki slid hands down to cup his ass, “what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Tachiki’s answer was to grind down hard, making Misaki suck his breath in at the scrape of the denim even through his pajama pants.

They stripped each other with practiced efficiency, Tachiki only pausing to dig the little tube out of his pocket before sending his jacket to the floor, where his sneakers and Misaki’s shirt soon joined the heap.

“Tachiki,” Misaki groaned when Tachiki slid the first finger in, hands fisting in his sheets with the effort of not shoving himself down hard against Tachiki’s hand; Tachiki was doing a good enough job on his own.

“Fuck, you’re a tight little thing,” Tachiki said, adding a second finger, and Misaki yanked him down for a fierce kiss to keep his moans from bringing his whole family running.

The first time they had done this, Tachiki had surprised Misaki by insisting he stay on his back rather rolling over, but now he was pretty sure that Tachiki just liked to watch his face when he thrust in hard that first time. Misaki didn’t disappoint either, sinking teeth hard into his bottom lip as the burn shot up his spine, tears stinging his eyes.

It made him simultaneously feel better and horrible that Tachiki always leaned forward and licked the wetness away from the corners of his eyes, soft laughter brushing Misaki’s cheek. Tachiki sank fingers hard into Misaki’s hips as he drew back, and Misaki twined his arms tightly around Tachiki’s neck and buried his face against Tachiki’s shoulder as Tachiki found a rhythm, trying to keep his ragged breathing low.

Tachiki shifted his grip and their angle, and Misaki couldn’t muffle a surprised groan, legs tightening around Tachiki’s waist and cock caught between their stomachs.

“Touch yourself,” Tachiki breathed into Misaki’s ear, and when Misaki didn’t let go of his neck immediately, sank teeth into his earlobe. “Touch yourself for me.”

Misaki relaxed his arms, and his back hit the bed with a soft thump. Tachiki’s thrusts barely even stuttered as their positions shifted, and when Misaki curled a hand around himself and thumbed his head, he had to bring the back of his other hand to his mouth to keep himself quiet.

“Just like that,” Tachiki hummed in approval, and Misaki refused to meet his eyes, keeping his head turned to the side, but it still only took half a dozen strokes before he was coming, biting down hard on the back of his hand.

He could feel Tachiki shaking with the force of holding back his own orgasm, but Tachiki didn’t let go until he had Misaki’s full attention, dropping to his elbows and tilting his head back so the sharp line of his throat seemed to stretch forever.

Tachiki drew a huge, shuddering breath as he came down, but didn’t collapse, just hovered above Misaki, close enough that the warmth from his chest was burning along Misaki’s. After a minute, Misaki tightened his legs, still around Tachiki’s waist, and used his elbows to knock Tachiki’s out from under him so that he hit Misaki’s chest with a grunt.

It made Misaki shiver with the pleasure of Tachiki’s hot weight pressing him down into the mattress, skin sticky and heart still pounding.

He didn’t protest after another few minutes when Tachiki peeled himself off and away to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You know,” Misaki said as he rolled onto his stomach and watched Tachiki reach for his jeans, “if you came in through the door at some sort of reasonable hour, you could stay for breakfast.”

“Bet I could talk your mom into making me pancakes,” Tachiki answered as he pulled his T-shirt on over his head.

“Try it and see,” Misaki said, and then had to clear his throat, and he buried his face in his pillow without waiting for Tachiki’s rejection. The mattress shifted, there was a brief press of a rough palm against his hip, and then the rustle of leaves outside his window.

He just wanted to lie there, but after a little while Misaki crawled out of bed to tug his pants back on, toss Tachiki’s socks in his lacrosse bag, and push the window shut.


“Are you okay?” Asakawa asked as Misaki sat down hard on the bench and tried to turn his wince into a cough. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine.” Misaki eyed his shoelaces with venom for daring to be the whole way down there.

“You really don’t look that good,” Marty offered helpfully. “You look like you were ridden like a pony and put away hard.”

“Marty-san,” Misaki begged as Asakawa stuffed his knuckles in his mouth, “please don’t ever say that again.”

Across the field, Tachiki and Kichida were supposed to be running laps for telling Sato he handled his stick like a virgin, but were really just moving in a wobbly line near the fence as they tried to shoulder each other into the mud. Misaki raised a hand to rub his forehead, and started when Asakawa grabbed his wrist.

“What’s that then?” he asked, frowning at the neat ring of tooth marks on the back of Misaki’s hand.

“It’s nothing,” Misaki insisted, snatching his hand back and shoving his hands in the pockets of his regulars jacket. “It’s fine.” When Asakawa just continued to stare, Misaki finally sighed and added, “I’m just not sleeping well, okay?”

“Come sleep over at my house tonight,” Asakawa said. “It’s Saturday, and my parents aren’t home.”

“We never sleep when I sleep over at your house,” Misaki pointed out.

“Yeah, but my pillows don’t leave bruises in the middle of my forehead.” Asakawa crossed his arms and eyed Misaki.

“Asakawa…” Misaki sighed and glanced back across the field where Tachiki now had Kichida in some kind of full-body headlock and was laughing, loud and sharp. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” Asakawa hopped off the bench. “I’ll go tell Sato!”

“Wait!” Misaki protested, but Asakawa was already bopping off, hair even bouncing with his steps, and Misaki slouched down on the bench even more miserably. He’d been avoiding spending the night with Asakawa and Sato, especially since the rumors about the moaning in the haunted bathroom had become particularly virulent, and there was also a story spreading about Music Room 3 that Misaki was trying not to think too hard about.

“Hang in there,” Marty said, slapping Misaki on the shoulder suddenly and almost knocking him off the bench. “About your spirits, I’m sure Asakawa-kun and Sato-fukubuchou can get it up.”

“Shut up, Marty-san,” Misaki groaned, burying his face in his hands.


Misaki sat his bag down in Asakawa’s room and looked around for a moment at the familiar clutter and posters, wondering who was going to sleep where. Sato and Asakawa’s laughter drifted up the stairs from the kitchen, making Misaki’s chest tighten, but he ran hands through his hair and shook it off before going back downstairs.

“…could always make toast,” Sato was saying as Misaki came through the kitchen doorway, which for some reason sent Asakawa into fits of giggles.

Sato was standing at the stove with his back to the doorway, pushing stir-fry around with a spatula, and Asakawa was leaning with his back pressed against the tall cabinet nearest the stove, so close that their shoulders were nearly touching. Neither one of them had noticed Misaki come in, and Asakawa’s face was lit up with such open adoration as he stared up at Sato that Misaki had to look away.

Misaki was opening his mouth to say that he should go when Asakawa finally noticed him.

“Misaki!” He was grinning broadly when Misaki looked up, and Sato was looking over his shoulder with a smile that was half amused and half embarrassed. “You don’t want yellow peppers in your stir-fry, do you?”

“They’re good,” Sato told him, tapping Asakawa’s nose with the end of his spatula, “and you haven’t even tried them!”

“Bleeeeeah!” Asakawa made an exaggerated face of disgust, and Misaki had to laugh as Asakawa motioned him over to reach the glasses on the highest shelf.

It wasn’t so bad, Misaki thought to himself when they were on the couch with the bowls singeing their palms, Asakawa nestled in between them and hiding his face against Sato’s shoulder when Misaki tried to force-feed him pieces of the hated pepper. Maybe he had missed this just a little, forgotten that he had friends who wanted to spend more than twenty minutes with him at a time.

“It’s not good at all!” Asakawa wailed when Sato held him down and Misaki scored a direct hit with the chopsticks. Sato and Misaki were shaking with laughter when Asakawa’s pout turned devious and he leaned forward to press his lips against Misaki’s.

Misaki’s eyes flew open, so surprised he hadn’t moved by the time Asakawa was pushing the pepper back into Misaki’s mouth with a thrust of his tongue. He pulled back, looking self-satisfied, and Misaki swallowed reflexively and immediately began to choke.

Sato thumped his back hard, making Misaki cough the obstruction free, and after a few gasping breaths, he looked up, cheeks burning and tears stinging his eyes.

That was certainly familiar, and he hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud until Sato’s eyes darkened.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, reaching over to press a thumb against the bruise on Misaki’s forehead.

“It’s nothing!” Misaki pulled away into the corner of the couch and pulled his knees up. “It isn’t like that.”

“We know it’s Tachiki,” Sato said, obviously struggling to keep his voice even. “He said…well, never mind, but you obviously don’t want…”

“That isn’t true!” Misaki interrupted, hugging his knees more tightly. His cheeks flamed even brighter and he dropped his eyes to the side. “I do…want. It’s just that…I…” Misaki’s throat tightened and he swallowed hard, wincing when his throat still ached a little.

“He doesn’t stay,” Asakawa said quietly, and when Misaki jerked his gaze back up, Asakawa’s eyes were soft with empathy. Misaki flicked a glance over Asakawa’s shoulders to Sato’s face, but he seemed resigned rather than surprised.

“Yeah,” Misaki sighed, then gave an ‘oof’ as Asakawa pushed between his knees and fell on his chest in a tight hug. After a second, Misaki wrapped his arms around Asakawa’s back and pressed against his warmth, feeling ridiculously like he hadn’t been touched in forever.

He was just lifting his head to shrug apologetically at Sato when a warm arm dropped around his shoulders. Sato had slid over to wedge himself in between Asakawa’s side and the back of the couch, and it didn’t look particularly comfortable, but Sato didn’t seem like he minded as he curled his other arm around Asakawa’s hip.

“Sato,” Asakawa said, and Misaki shivered as Asakawa’s nose brushed the underside of his jaw, “it’s okay, right?”

Sato’s answer was to hitch himself up closer and kiss the side of Misaki’s mouth, and when Misaki turned his head in surprise, to kiss him properly, soft and unhurried.

It was nothing like Tachiki’s rough possession, or when he’d practiced kissing with Asakawa until they were hard and breathless. Sato was gentle and thorough, lips smoothing against Misaki’s while his tongue brushed everything it could reach, until he pulled away and Misaki felt like every nerve ending in his mouth was tingling.

“Hmph,” Asakawa said, pouting at the lack of attention, but he practically melted as soon as Sato reached for him. Being kissed like that was one thing, but watching it was something else again, and Misaki shifted positions several times as Asakawa made soft noises of pleasure and his fingers kneaded Misaki’s chest.

He groaned quietly when Asakawa opened one eye and ground down against him.

“I knew it,” Asakawa pulled away from Sato to say smugly, then hitched himself up a little higher to grind in earnest. Misaki’s hands clutched at Asakawa’s hips reflexively and he tilted his head back against the couch, then jerked in surprise when Sato’s blunt fingers stroked at his pulse.

“The couch is a bad idea,” Sato said, sounding very much like the voice of experience, and Asakawa sighed long-sufferingly, but climbed off Misaki.

“You two stay here,” Asakawa grinned at them, “and I’ll call you when I’m ready!”

“Should we be worried about that?” Misaki asked, both his and Sato’s eyes glued to Asakawa’s backside as he scampered off.

“Yes.” With Asakawa out of the way, Sato pushed himself out of the crease of the couch with a grunt and settled himself more comfortably on top of Misaki, raising his eyebrow like a question mark.

Misaki answered by putting his arms around Sato’s neck and brushing their lips together, keeping his eyes open to watch Sato’s reaction. Sato kissed back readily, sliding his hands under the back of Misaki’s shirt and up the bumps of his spine, and Misaki let his eyes flutter shut.

They both jumped when Asakawa yelled for them, disoriented and breathing hard, and snickering at the looks on each other’s faces.

Which was nothing compared to the looks on their faces when they opened Asakawa’s bedroom door and found him sprawled out over a nest of futons and blankets, bare naked and with a hand already wrapped around his cock. Asakawa was watching them from under heavy eyelids, his skin flushed lightly, limbs lean and sleek from the hours of running drills.

“Are you two just going to watch?” Asakawa asked, voice breathy and implying that that was a-okay with him. Sato and Misaki exchanged a quick glance, and then immediately sent clothes flying in all directions.

They dropped onto the futons on either side of Asakawa, and Asakawa laughed and wriggled happily when neither could resist smoothing their palms over the wide expanse of his bare, lacrosse-tanned skin. Sato took Asakawa’s mouth, refusing to be rushed by Asakawa’s shameless encouragement, and Misaki watched for a few moments before leaning down to Asakawa’s nipples. Asakawa jerked in surprise when Misaki attacked both at the same time, tugging the closer nipple with his teeth while twisting the far one between his fingers.

Asakawa’s fingers tangled in Misaki’s hair, rubbing against his scalp and urging him on, making Misaki shiver and press his erection tightly against Asakawa’s thigh.

“Hey,” Asakawa gasped when Sato had freed his mouth to trail wet, red marks down the side of Asakawa’s neck. He tugged Misaki’s hair harder to get his attention, and when Misaki lifted his head, Asakawa’s eyes were dark and glassy. “D’you want me?”

“Huh?” Misaki asked, blinking, then groaned and tightened his fingers when Asakawa twisted to rub his ass against Misaki’s erection. He blushed when he finally caught on. “Oh! I…” Misaki thought about it, Asakawa wrapped tight and hot around him, and a shiver ran up his skin, but then he thought about Sato’s hot weight pressing him into the couch. “Actually, I like…uh…you know, being the…”

“Oh!” Asakawa grinned and tilted his head back to crush his lips to Misaki’s, nipping at his bottom lip. “Me too! C’mere.”

“Wha?” Misaki let Asakawa tug him forward and push him around until he found himself kneeling in between Sato’s legs, Sato smiling indulgently up at him and Asakawa from his back, obviously used to taking direction. Asakawa sure seemed to know what he was doing, Misaki laughed to himself as he was pushed down until Sato’s head was brushing his lips.

Sato’s cock tasted like the rest of him, solid and warm, blunt and good on Misaki’s tongue, and when he worked callused fingers into Misaki’s hair, Misaki groaned like he was the one getting the blowjob and understood why Asakawa did this like every five minutes.

He was actually just starting to wonder where Asakawa had got to when something wet and hot slid up the crack of his ass, making him jump and swear. Sato burst out laughing just as teeth sank warningly into Misaki’s rear and Asakawa’s grip tightened on Misaki’s hips.

It was utterly embarrassing the way he couldn’t stop blushing like a total virgin, but Misaki had to rest his forehead against Sato’s hip for a few moments when Asakawa licked him more slowly, pressing the tip of his tongue light but steady against Misaki’s hole. Tachiki had sure as hell never done that! It couldn’t taste good, could it?

“It’s okay,” Sato said, brushing knuckles over Misaki’s burning cheek. “He likes it. Don’t you?” Asakawa hummed his agreement, making Misaki twitch with the vibration and moan, then blush even harder when Sato laughed again.

Maybe he’d just better get back to work before he humiliated himself completely, Misaki thought as he slid his lips back over Sato’s cock, turning his laughter into a throaty groan. He slid arms around Sato’s waist and tried not to thrust back as Asakawa licked in deeper, weirder and slicker than Tachiki’s fingers, but so good that Misaki was really moaning around Sato’s cock more than sucking it. Sato didn’t seem to mind, thrusting gently until Misaki held him more tightly.

An indeterminate amount of time had passed when Misaki was suddenly being moved again, until he was straddling Sato’s thighs and Asakawa’s chest was pressed warm against his back. Sato took one of Misaki’s hands and curled it around his cock inside his own.

Please,” Misaki moaned, making Asakawa laugh in his ear as he reached around with a familiar looking tube and squeezed a good amount of lubricant over their fingers.

“You’re almost as impatient as me,” he teased, giving Misaki a stroke while Sato pulsed between his own fingers, and Misaki couldn’t find the breath to argue or even agree.

“Wait, stop, stop,” Sato panted, slick hands moving to Misaki’s hips. “If you want to get me inside you anyway.”

“Yes!” Misaki said, too quickly, and blushed more as Sato and Asakawa both laughed and coaxed him up onto his knees.

Sato held himself steady with one hand, the other still against Misaki’s hip, and Asakawa began pressing him slowly down onto Sato. Misaki squirmed, trying to go faster, but Asakawa refused to let him, letting him drop inch by slow inch and pressing his smirk against Misaki’s shoulder.

When he was the whole way down, Asakawa and Sato both let go and waited for Misaki to make the first move, but Misaki remained still, shaking a little and balancing himself with his hands splayed across Sato’s chest.

“Yeah,” Misaki answered when Sato asked if he was okay, and found himself grinning widely. “It’s just different.” He pushed himself up an inch or so and slid back down, marveling at the way the pleasure washed over him in slow, deep waves.

“It always is with different people,” Asakawa murmured in Misaki’s ear, making him shudder. He ran hands over Misaki’s chest as Misaki rolled his hips and earned a loud moan from Sato. “Sato’s so thick, isn’t he? Stretches you in the nicest ways.”

“Are you always…such a talker?” Misaki asked, torn between moaning and goddamn would he ever stop blushing?

“Only when his mouth isn’t full,” Sato said, trying for a thrust and managing very little of it since he was confined by both Misaki and Asakawa’s weight. “So no.”

The laughter was unexpected and almost as good as Asakawa’s fingers tugging at his nipples, making Misaki feel safe and wanted, and if the steady roll of Sato underneath him wasn’t as intense as being taken by Tachiki, Asakawa’s hand tight around his cock was more than enough to push Misaki over the edge.

Sato pulled him down for a deep kiss while his head was still spinning, and he dimly realized that Sato must have come too since he was shuddering with aftershocks. Misaki was just letting his eyes slip shut again when Asakawa tumbled in between them, breaking their kiss and wiggling until his body was pressed firmly against both of theirs.

“Jealous?” Sato asked hoarsely, and Asakawa stuck his tongue out at him and then turned to crush his lips to Misaki’s. Misaki was more than compliant, sliding one hand up into Asakawa’s hair and dropping the other to tease at his nipples.

Sato was rustling around in the blankets on the other side, and when Misaki cracked an eye to look, had slid down until he could suck Asakawa’s cock into his mouth. While Misaki watched, Sato slid two still-slicked fingers deep into Asakawa, making him moan and twitch against Misaki.

“Misaki!” Asakawa protested when Misaki broke the kiss and refused to let Asakawa catch his mouth again, instead sliding his lips along the ridge of Asakawa’s jaw.

“I’d rather hear your pretty little moans,” he said, sinking teeth into the soft skin just under Asakawa’s ear, and Asakawa obliged him gladly.

He came just as prettily, Misaki found out a few minutes later, all arched back and swollen lips, and afterwards wanted nothing but to cuddle and be stroked by any hands available. Even that felt wonderful to Misaki, Asakawa’s smooth skin and the fine tremble running underneath it seeming to hum with pleasure.

Sato had pulled himself up to spoon behind Asakawa, forehead buried against his neck and breath already evening out.

“He always takes a nap,” Asakawa explained, giggling affectionately, and he tugged Misaki closer so that he could pillow his cheek against Misaki’s collarbone. “We can wake him up after a little while. You feel better, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Misaki answered, stifling a yawn, and slipped an arm over Asakawa’s waist as their knees tangled together.

“And you aren’t tired right?”

Asakawa’s fingers were circling Misaki’s tailbone, and Misaki had sudden insight into why Sato didn’t seem to mind sharing.


Late Sunday night, or early Monday morning, depending on how you looked at it, Misaki woke up when the rock sailed through this open window and smacked his Fullmetal Alchemist poster. He didn’t bother to get up; Al could take the hit with his armor and all.

Tachiki was halfway through the window when Misaki rolled over suddenly, grinning, and he nearly slipped off the sill in surprise.

Or maybe, Misaki thought as his grin widened, the glint of the handcuffs in the moonlight had just momentarily blinded him.

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