
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/540673.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Kise_Ryouta/Midorima_Shintarou
  Character:
      Kise_Ryouta, Midorima_Shintarou
  Additional Tags:
      Boys_in_Skirts, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-19 Words: 972
****** you are the boy that I've been dreaming of ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     “Sk-skirt,” Shintarou manages to say. “You’re wearing a skirt.”
     That’s when his hand slips underneath the hem of the skirt and he
     feels what is unmistakably silk. “Oh my god, are you wearing panties,
     too?”
Notes
     I slapped on an underage warning because this takes place during
     their Teikou days. Also you really, really should not look for plot
     because I just...wanted to write porn...with Kise in a skirt.
Shintarou doesn’t know how he ended up here, sitting against the lockers with
Kise straddling his lap in a skirt, but he’s too busy trying to figure out
whether or not this is a good thing to think about anything else.
“What’s wrong, Midorimacchi?” Kise smirks and takes Shintarou’s hands, guiding
them to his ass. Shintarou moans as he starts rubbing himself against them,
encouraging Shintarou to--Shintarou’s ears burn--grope him.
“Sk-skirt,” Shintarou manages to say. “You’re wearing a skirt.” That’s when his
hand slips underneath the hem of the skirt and he feels what is unmistakably
silk. “Oh my god, are you wearing panties, too?”
“Of course. What else would I be wearing?”
Pants, Shintarou thinks. Boxers. The usual Teikou boys’ uniform, instead of
this skirt that exposes Kise’s long, muscled legs. Despite what his brain is
telling him about this being wrong, wrong, wrong, though, Shintarou can’t help
running his hands down those legs, biting back another moan at how smooth
Kise’s skin feels. He could spend hours touching Kise like this, admiring how
soft his skin is, biting and sucking until he bruises.
“Midorimacchi likes this, huh?” Kise asks, kissing Shintarou. “I know it gets
you hot when I shave.”
“Shut up.” Shintarou pinches the inside of Kise’s thigh. Kise whines low in his
throat, and Shintarou is pleased. For some unfathomable reason, Kise enjoys it
when it hurts. He’s always encouraging Shintarou to pull his hair, to bite and
pinch until he cries out.
Kise grinds down against Shintarou. “Do that again,” he demands. “And kiss me.”
Grumbling, Shintarou does as he’s told. He still can’t believe that Kise is
wearing a skirt, of all things (where did he even find one?), but he can admit
that there are advantages to it, like easy access to Kise’s legs. His cock is
already straining against the front of his slacks: he’ll never tell Kise that
he’s right, but Shintarou really does have a...fetish of sorts for how smooth
and hairless Kise is.
“Midorimacchi,” Kise gasps against his lips when Shintarou’s hand brushes
against Kise’s own erection. “I want to ride you.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Shintarou says. He can feel his blush deepening,
but he doesn’t stop Kise when Kise reaches into the gym bag by their side and
pulls out a tube of lube.
“Hold out your hand,” Kise says. Shintarou holds out his left hand without
thinking, and Kise squeezes a generous amount of lube onto it.
“The taping--” Shintarou starts to say.
“Keep it on.” Kise licks his lips. “I like it that way.” He kneels up and pulls
his panties down. Shintarou feels like screaming when he sees that they’re a
light green color. Kise is not funny.
Kise grabs Shintarou’s hand when he stares for too long. “Hurry up,
Midorimacchi, I want you inside me now.”
“Don’t be so impatient!” Shintarou pushes a finger inside Kise, wincing a
little because his taping is going to be ruined. It’s worth it, though, just
for the way Kise flushes and moans Shintarou’s name.
Shintarou opens him slowly, holding him still as he adds three more fingers
inside him, one at a time. He likes, this, too: seeing Kise squirm and beg for
more as Shintarou crooks his fingers, searching for just the right spot, the
one that makes Kise scream every time.
“Don’t tease,” Kise says. “Oh, please, please, please, Midorimacchi, I’m ready.
I can take your cock now.” He scrabbles at Shintarou’s pants, managing to unzip
them and grab his cock before Shintarou even pulls his fingers out.
Shintarou yelps. “You’re such a brat. I told you not to be impa--”
“Lecture later,” Kise says, and sinks down onto Shintarou’s cock. His eyes fall
closed, and his mouth parts on a sigh. “Yeah, good...you always feel so good
inside me, Midorimacchi.”
Shintarou’s ears are burning. It’s always like this with Kise, no matter how
many times they’ve had sex. He’s so open about what he likes, what he wants--
and he wants Shintarou, of all people. All those people following him around,
and he’s here, fucking himself on Shintarou’s cock like he can’t get enough.
He’s a slick, hot tightness around Shintarou. Shintarou doesn’t even have to
move. He just strokes Kise’s thighs as Kise lifts his hips and slams them down
again. He’s crying out Shintarou’s name, kissing him and gasping, “So good,
Midorimacchi, it feels so good. You’re filling me up. I love it. I love--”
Shintarou kisses him, biting his lip. “I want...I want to come on you.” He
wraps his hand around Kise’s cock and starts stroking him. “Come first, Kise,
and let me come on you.”
Kise’s eyes widen, and then he’s nodding and slamming himself onto Shintarou’s
cock even harder, whimpering. Shintarou jerks him off roughly, and it only
takes a few moments before Kise comes all over his hand.
Shintarou pulls him off. “Get on your hands and knees,” he says, and Kise
complies without protest, even though the concrete floor of the locker room
must be uncomfortable for him. His skirt’s been hitched up even further, so
Shintarou can see his thighs: red and bruised and streaked with come. The
panties are tangled around his knees. Shintarou kneels behind him and starts
jerking himself off to the sight. He’s already so close that it doesn’t take
long before he’s coming, calling Kise’s name. His come splatters on Kise’s
skirt and the back of his thighs, where it drips down.
He can hear Kise’s breath hitch. “Midorimacchi...”
Shintarou slumps back against the lockers. “You’re exhausting,” he mumbles, as
Kise gets up and straddles his lap again. “And you’re getting my clothes
dirty.”
“Don’t be so fussy.” Kise kisses him. “Hey, Midorimacchi...”
“Shut up,” Shintarou says, and pulls Kise down for another, longer kiss.
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