hikarunogo | Hikago kink meme, round 2

troisroyaumes posting in

hikarunogo

Previous editions of the Hikago kink meme: round 1 here at

hikarunogo and a previous version hosted on LJ by

verloren1983.

As a way to get 2013 off to a new start, let's have round 2!

How it works: leave an anonymous* comment with character(s) and a kink (one prompt per comment please), and someone will reply anonymously* with a fic to match your request. All characters and kinks allowed.

* Not mandatory to comment anonymously, of course.

Also, gen prompts and fics are allowed with the caveat that the focus of the meme is on kinks. How you define kink is completely up to you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

catlarks

This is for swag2016. Part of me suspects this was a joke prompt. The rest of me Really Loves Figging. I hope you're still around, anon, and that you do want this.

Recommended reading: this incredibly overkill fill which is basically just me legitimizing Ogata and ~*Akira's middle school coach*~ as a ship. It's a really good crackship, just, just trust me.

(and idk if you don't like figging the other fic is just good old-fashioned D/s and anal)

-

The kitchen tiles are cold against Ogata's calves where he's kneeling before Yun on the floor.

The man's kitchen is small and neatly-kept, just one well-ordered piece of an organized apartment that has been kept to only the bare essentials. It supports a small table at which Yun takes his coffee in the mornings, and two chairs. Yun is sitting in one of them. Ogata has not been invited to sit in the other.

It's not morning, either, and though there is a book spread before Yun on the table — a perfect prop through which to feign disinterest in Ogata's presence within the room — it isn't enough to hold Yun's attention. That Ogata can feel settling heavily onto himself, the weight of Yun's gaze such that it processes as pressure, dragging down the length of Ogata's bare chest before coming to linger on the space between Ogata's thighs and staring with some interest.

For someone whose profession is performed in seiza, sitting with his legs folded beneath him is no great strain for Ogata. What becomes difficult is the inaction, remaining still and uncomplaining as Yun studies him and ignores him by turns. Yun is still dressed in his work clothes after a day of teaching, appearing neat and composed in a collared shirt and khaki pants. Ogata is in nothing save a pair of women's panties.

They are what has caught Yun's attention, his eyes lingering on the shape of Ogata's cock underneath the thin cloth.

Yun leans forward, sliding one foot up between Ogata's legs to press against his groin. The cotton of his work socks drags against the satin of Ogata's undergarments, and he fights back his body's impulse to rise into the touch. Yun raises his brows at him before pressing his heel more firmly in against the base of Ogata's cock, and this time, Ogata cannot fight back the gasp that emerges past his lips.

"You were doing well," Yun points out, more as if to say, and now you aren't. "But that should not be a surprise. We both already know you're good at kneeling."

His voice is pleasant, even, no different from how it always sounds. The cadence of Yun's words washes over Ogata like a familiar tide, even as his neck flushes at the comment that could be just as much an insult as it is a compliment. With Yun, it's never fully evident which meaning he intends — Ogata privately suspects that it is both.

"I don't know if it's worth rewarding someone, for something they can do all day without difficulty."

"I thought you were going to reward me for my patience," Ogata says, having pride enough to sass.

Yun shrugs. "That too. But wouldn't you like to make things more challenging?"

And there it is, the surprise Ogata has been waiting for all this time. Even from the floor, he smiles.

Yun takes that look alone as all the answer he needs and pulls from behind his elbow a familiar, knobbly object. Ogata watches, as Yun takes up a knife from atop the table and begins slivering off the ginger root's skin. He swallows against the constriction forming in his throat, focused on observing Yun's deftly-moving hands, on watching him whittle the ginger down to its pale, seeping insides. Ogata's gut clenches and his own insides squirm, fighting against the knowledge of where that root is meant to go.

Yun obligates Ogata to watch the entire slow, methodical process while he shapes the root into a toy. It allows Ogata time to contemplate how it will feel, stinging inside of him, time to process what he's agreeing to. He's too stubborn, too proud, to change his mind and say no.

"Lean back," Yun says, as soon as his work with the knife has been finished. "And spread your legs."

Ogata does, chin tipped up as he presses his palms against the floor for balance and pushes apart his thighs. Doing so only makes it all the more apparent how he's hard beneath the panties, the head of his cock poking up past the thin band of elastic. Even the promise of pain has not been enough to damper his enthusiasm for Yun's particular brand of control.

Yun slides from his chair to the floor beside Ogata, putting them on a level. His face is calm and composed even as he reaches between Ogata's legs, even as he is the one to pull the crotch of Ogata's panties to one side with steady, stone-callused fingers. His expression, mild as it is, gives nothing of his feelings away. But his face is close, close enough that Ogata can see the concentrated little furrow between his brows, intent as he stares down at Ogata's hole.

He doesn't say it, but the deliberate pause reads as nothing so much as an, Are you ready?

Ogata is glad he isn't asked. If he was pressed to reply, he couldn't say what answer he would give. He isn't prepared. at least, that much is for sure. He suspects there is no preparing for this — even if Yun had loosened him gently with his fingers, stretching Ogata open with familiar, practiced hands, he's certain that his body would fight the intrusion of what's about to be pressed into him just the same as it will when Yun has done no such thing.

It stings, from the very instant the tip of the root is pressed against Ogata's skin. Yun has carved the end of the ginger into a gently tapering point in preparation to push it into Ogata's body, but it's leaking runny fluid and every place the ginger oil touches immediately starts to burn. Ogata can't help but squirm, his body cringing away, and Yun's hand goes from pulling at the panties to clamping, bracingly, around Ogata's thigh.

Ogata hisses between his teeth and scrabbles fingers against the floor and still Yun is steady, pushing the makeshift dildo into him an inch at a time while his body struggles, vainly, involuntarily, to force it out. With each passing moment the burning grows worse, like a fire that, once caught, can do nothing save consume. It swallows Ogata up, searing his insides raw and setting him to panting and squirming, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he clamps down on the toy again, and again. Each time he does he squeezes the ginger further into himself, and each time he does that he can't help but gasp again, making high, ragged sounds that break with his discomfort.

When only an inch of unpeeled root remains outside Ogata's body, Yun lets the crotch of Ogata's panties slide back into its proper place between his legs.

"Good?" Yun asks him, in that same, casual way he always does.

Ogata can only laugh in response, high and somewhat hysterical, his voice breaking as the sound shades into more of a groan. Without Yun's hands holding his legs apart his thighs clamp closed and he curls forward over top of them, as if he's protecting the awful, foreign thing lodged inside of him, rather than longing to claw it out of his body.

"Not exactly," Ogata bites out.

"But you'll last," Yun surmises, watching the scrunched-in, defiant set of Ogata's face; watching the lines of tension strung taut through Ogata's body. "Won't you?"

Ogata only glares at him, with the same intensity usually reserved for opponents sitting across from him before a Go board.

Yun nods to himself, as if that is answer enough, before reaching forward to tuck his fingers between Ogata's legs. Even pressed together as they are he succeeds in nudging the elastic of the panties down, pushing it aside until Ogata's cock slides all the way free. Strained though he might be — entire body shaking, eyes tearing, breath coming in small, shuddering gasps — his cock is, if anything, harder still than before.

Yun wraps his fist around it, and slowly begins to jerk Ogata off.

All the breath he's keeping in rushes out of him in a sob, his hips pushing insistently up into Yun's hand. He can't hold still. The burn from the ginger is still spreading through him, consuming what it touches and leaving constant pain and trembling behind. But the burn also warms him up, heating his insides until the itching inside of him is near-unbearable — until the touch of Yun's hand tugging at his cock becomes the only possible form of release. Ogata thrusts against Yun's palm without being able to stop himself, the motions messy and clumsy and utterly desperate. Yun only rewards him in his need with the gift of steady, building friction.

Ogata ruts against Yun's hand until the pressure builds, until it crests, until he's coming over Yun's fingers with a sucked-in wheeze that's as much a product of his orgasm as it is one of the ginger. Yun's hand keeps moving, keeps tugging at his cock which hasn't yet gotten the message to relent, and Ogata doesn't have the presence of mind to tell Yun that he can stop.

He shakes his way through to another convulsion, until he jerks like a hooked fish and shakes so hard he can't say whether he's come again dry. His hand snaps down to grab Yun by the wrist and this time, his message is clear.

"Out," he manages through grit-together teeth, struggling to force his own legs farther apart so Yun will grasp what he means. "I'm done, out, take it out."

Yun doesn't fight him on this. He reaches between Ogata's legs and pulls aside the panties, pries the ginger back out of a body that's as unwilling to let it go as it was willing to allow it ease of entrance. But it drags free with some pulling, and while the pain drops quickly off by half, the burning does not immediately fade away.

Ogata's face contorts, multiple times, hunched over as he is but with his gaze tipped up to stare into Yun's eyes. His thighs have gravitated back together, attempting to protect him from the itching, crawling sensation still sending chills wracking through him and leaving his guts a heaving, clenching mess.

"It's still," he starts to say, against the clenching of his teeth, "it didn't stop."

"I believe that's how it works," Yun confides. "The irritant is in the plant's juices, and those are still inside of you."

His hands are gentle on Ogata's thighs, stroking lightly down his legs, soothing a body which is still weakly trembling in lingering reaction. His mouth finds Ogata's mouth, kissing him slowly in welcome distraction.

"It should die away in, oh, I believe my reading on the subject has suggested something like twenty minutes?" Yun continues, upon breaking away from the kiss.

He leans back, pushing up from the floor and again taking a seat in his chair beside the table. His book he pulls back in front of himself, unfolding it to the place he had marked when he'd set it aside. He glances down at Ogata who, with thighs pressed together and fingers gripping, white-knuckled, about his knees, is as good as sitting in seiza.

"That should be just enough time for me to finish the chapter," Yun says. "And as I believe we agreed earlier, if you can sit quietly and neatly for that time, I will provide you some reward."

Ogata bites his tongue on whichever nasty thing he's tempted to say, aware that their little waiting game has finally become a suitable challenge — and unwilling to forfeit the prize he has at that point most certainly earned.