Fic: Incubation (Domeki/Watnuki, NC-17)

[silverfoxflower]

Title: Incubation
Fandom: Xxxholic
Genre: Slash
Word Count: ~2000
Pairing: Domeki/Watanuki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage, high-school-aged boys. Graphic, slashy sex.
Notes: Fills the 'Sex Toys Under Clothing' square of my kink_bingo . Honestly, IDK where this story came from ... it is so friggin' weird XD
Summary: Watanuki gets to incubate a mechanical egg. Too bad it requires human body heat to hatch and there is only one place hot enough ...
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. 



It was a silver sphere, about the diameter of his glasses-lens. Unlike many of the things that Yuko had a habit of handing off to him, Watanuki liked this object immediately, the way it whirred and clicked, rolling around in his palm as if it had a life of its own instead of existing as a conglomeration of ticking clockwork gears.

“Why’re you petting it?” Yuko asked carelessly from her perch on the edge of the table. “It’s not alive.”

“But it moves.” Watanuki protested, protectively cradling the sphere against his cupped hands.

“It is a gear metal egg. Responds to body heat.” Yuko shook her head. “Our client needs the mechanical angel which will hatch out of the egg. Your job is to incubate it.”

Watanuki, all ready to complain grievously, perked up at the unexpectedly easy assignment. “I know how to incubate an egg! In elementary school-“

“Uninteresting.” Yuko feigned a yawn as Watanuki scowled. “The gear metal egg cannot be warmed by your paltry lightbulbs and shredded newspaper. As I said before, it responds to body heat.”

Understanding began to dawn. “You mean … “ Watanuki looked helplessly from Yuko to the egg in his hand. “How long do I have to hold this?”

“Actually, right now it’s freezing.”

“Freezing!” Mokona chimed in, clambering onto the table to sit next to Yuko. “You’re freezing the egg!”

“W-what?” Watanuki hastily unbuttoned his jacket and his shirt, pressing the whirring metal to his skin. It seemed to burrow into his chest. “Is it okay?”

Yuko and Mokona looked at each other. “Better,” Yuko took a short drag of her pipe, blowing a delicate stream of smoke at Watanuki’s direction. “Although the optimal temperature of the egg is … oh, 36 degrees Celsius?”

“36.” Monoka agreed with a definitive nod.

“And there are only a few spots in the human body capable of sustaining that temperature …”

Watanuki’s look of dawning horror was met with ominous giggles.

+

All the way to school, Watanuki kept up a colorful string of curses, some in languages he had only ever heard Yuko reading aloud from ancient books. Of course this would happen to him. Of course the gear metal egg would require an incubation temperature of the internal human body. And of course, it had not fit properly in his mouth, so there was only one other way it could have gone …

“You’re walking funny today.”

Watanuki flailed in surprise, tripping off the curb and nearly falling flat on his face. Only Domeki’s strong arm around his waist saved him just in time. “What the- arg!” Watanuki pushed away with a blazing face. “I should have known it was you … you-“

“Hello, Watanuki-kun!”

“Himawari!” Watanuki’s face brightened into a besotted expression as he limped to walk next to her. “How are you today?”

They began talking animatedly, leaving Domeki to trail after them. His dark eyes followed Watanuki’s backside all the way to school.

+

When he sat down on his chair, Watanuki could not help emitting a soft sound not unlike a sob. The sphere, which had looked relatively small in his palm, felt like it was stretching his ass unbearably. It was heavy, too, and bounced with every step so that he had to clench fiercely to keep it from slipping out.

Perhaps he had used too much lube this morning, Watanuki wondered miserably. It had seemed a good idea at the time because he had never had anything thicker than a finger up there, but now he squirmed, he felt the entire class could hear an audible squish.

Watanuki shifted as subtly as he could into a comfortable position, ignoring Domeki’s constant, irritatingly curious looks.

The teacher began that day’s lesson on math, and Watanuki forced himself to pay attention, taking notes although he had no idea what he was writing. He breathed carefully. The intrusion in his ass no longer caused sharp stabs of pain in his abdomen. It was now merely uncomfortable, like a pulled muscle, perhaps, or a day-old bruise.

Watanuki cheered himself with the idea that he could probably get through this. Only four more hours to go-

Whirr…

“Does anyone have their cell phone out?” Sensei turned from the blackboard, her eyes narrowed upon the cluster of girls in the back who regularly applied makeup through her lectures. Fortunately, she did not see Watanuki as he hunched over his desk, gritting his teeth and trembling.


Domeki did.

At his earliest opportunity, after the class calmed down and the teacher resumed her lesson, Domeki leaned over his chair and lightly touched Watanuki’s elbow.

Watanuki jumped, clattering the desk quietly. “What?” He panted, his face flushed. Domeki noticed his clenched thighs, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach.

“Are you sick?”

”No” The whirring sound came again, softer, and Watanuki groaned, his back arched slightly.

“Is this for Yuko?” Domeki whispered, his face stoic as always, his eyes intent on the tense curve of Wanuki’s thighs.

Watanuki seemed to hesitate for a brief moment. Then, the buzzing, whirring sound vibrated through his body, loud enough for the entire class to look around for the source. “Y-yes-“ Watanuki managed to squeeze out, before he slumped over the desk, his hands gripping the sides of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“Students! Students! I will not tolerate anymore disruptions to the class! If someone does not come and deposit their cell phone on my desk within the next five minutes, everyone will be made to empty their bags-“

“Sensei,” Domeki stood respectfully. “Watanuki is not feeling well. May I have permission to escort him to the nurse?”

Sensei seemed to falter in her tirade as she heard Watanuki moan. “Yes, Domeki. Please take him.” She turned back to the class as Domeki slung Watanuki’s arm across his shoulder and hefted him away. “As for the rest of you …”

Although he could barely walk, even with half his weight on Domeki, Watanuki felt the need to protest the affront to his dignity loudly and repeatedly. “Stop touching me, I’m fine.” He pushed away from Domeki, only to feel his knees buckle as a particularly hard pulse shot up his spine and made his teeth chatter.

Domeki patiently helped him up, and Watanuki continued complain as much as he could between moans. “Why are you being difficult?” Domeki finally growled, wrestling Watanuki into his arms. Then he stilled.

“I-it’s not what you think!” Watanuki croaked, mortified as his erection pressed against Domeki’s stomach.

They both flinched away as if burned and an uncomfortable silence grew between them.

Straightening, Domeki tightened his hold on Watanuki and continued walking. With a shudder, Watanuki grew limp in his arms, except for the occasional twitch or sob.

Watanuki wished it were possible to die of embarrassment. At least he would never have to face Domeki again. His body disagreed, pulsing hard and fast around the sphere, his cock growing heavy with confused arousal. Domeki smelled like sandalwood and sweat, Watanuki had an inexplicable urge to press his face on the side of Domeki’s neck, thrust himself to completion on his chest.

Oh dear God, he hated Yuko.

Domeki toed open the door to the nurse’s office cautiously and slid in when he saw that it was empty. He dragged Watanuki to the furthest bed from the door and drew the curtains around them. Watanuki immediately curled away from Domeki, hiding his face in his knees.

Domeki considered several responses, including walking away without saying anything. “Are you okay?” He finally asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

No answer from Watanuki, except that he tried to curl in tighter. The new angle made the vibrating egg press against somewhere that made him whimper, his free hand grabbing at the sheets and twisting them as he mouthed wordless incantations into his knees.

“What is going on?” Domeki demanded, his patience thinning. When Watanuki tried to inch away, he grabbed the other boy’s shoulder and forced him to uncurl, dodging angry kicks to the chest. After a short struggle, Domeki easily overpowered him, pinning down his wrists and pressing his entire weight against Watanuki’s thighs.

“It’s none of your business!” Watanuki shouted, red-faced and avoiding eye contact. His clothes were rumpled and misted with sweat. Domeki breathed in as he saw a very noticeable bulge pressing against the zipper of Watanuki’s uniform pants.

He decided to be blunt. “What do you have up your ass?”

Watanuki looked like he wanted to scowl and deny everything, but a sudden, sharp, buzz made his entire body arch and squirm furiously against the bedsheets. “It’s … it’s a gear metal egg. Y-Yuko made me incubate it!”

Domeki had no idea what that meant, but since Watanuki’s writhing was making his own cock start to take interest, he figured that he wouldn’t be remiss in seeing where this would go. He leaned down to take Watanuki’s lips. After all, neither of them could go back to the classroom in this condition.

Watanuki gasped, choking on a half-breath of air as Domeki’s tongue invaded his mouth, claiming it, dominating it easily. The heel of Domeki’s hand pressed against his erection, and before he could help it, his hips began furiously rutting against the firmness, his mouth meeting Domeki’s tongue with eager submission. It felt good to curl under his large body, allow him to take care of Watanuki’s needs.

His pride, of course, screeched in protest, but the whirring in his ass, across his prostate drowned that out easily.

Domeki’s large hand fumbled into Watanuki’s pants, taking a minute to massage him against the cloth of his moist briefs before Watanuki nipped his tongue and threw one leg over his waist. Encouraged, Domeki wasted no time in tugging out Watanuki’s cock, feeling it hot and slippery under his fingers.

Moaning, Watanuki clutched at Domeki’s broad shoulders, feeling the shifting of muscles underneath his jacket. The space between them grew hot and sweaty, frantic with the reminder that the nurse was due back any minute. Domeki tugged down Watanuki’s briefs and his pants, gripping his cock in one hand and palming his ass in the other.

When he squeezed them both, Watanuki gave an odd-sounding sob and snapped his hips upwards once, twice, and came all over Domeki’s jacket. Shuddering, Domeki pressed his mouth again and again all over Watanuki’s chin and neck, licking up his sweat and working furiously on his own zipper. With Watanuki’s limp body beneath him, he jerked himself roughly to completion, spilling into his own palm.

In the aftermath, Watanuki sprawled against the bed and Domeki slumped half- over him, both drawing air desperately, refusing to look at each other.

“So.” Domeki started carefully, wondering if it would be worth it to walk all the way to the front of the infirmary to grab tissues. He decided to wipe his hand on the front of his jacket because it was clearly ruined anyway.

“You … stupid Domeki!” Watanuki buried his head in the pillow, pounding the bedspread beside him repeatedly. “Don’t ever talk to me again!”

Domeki snorted, rising from the bed. “You owe me a new jacket.”

+
“I have received your payment.” Yuko spoke to the holographic image of Fai as projected by Mokona’s open mouth. “I shall be sending your mechanical angel immediately.” The device she withdrew from her brocade jacket looked like a metal top. It whirred on the tip of her finger steadily, endlessly.

“That’s the angel?” Watanuki asked grumpily, setting down the tray of sake cups after Yuko had delivered the merchandise.

“I told you,” Yuko admonished, pouring herself a liberal drink. “It’s not alive.” She winked at Watanuki’s red face. “Don’t worry, your suffering will be taken into account regarding the payment.”

“Sake, sake!” Monoka sang, sitting down and reaching for a cup. “Yuko likes sake, Monoka likes sake, Domeki likes-“

“What?” Watanuki began stripping off his apron. “Domeki’s coming here? I’ve gotta go-“

Yuko made no move to stop him, smiling into her cup as Watanuki scrambled out the door. When Domeki arrived, she would have to make sure to hand him the new uniform jacket Watanuki had sewed him.

Comments

[mirroreuler.livejournal.com]

Omg this is so great XD For some reason I always really love it when porn is actually sort of justified by the plot or utilises elements from canon to explain it, and this does that so well! ALSO: HOT. <3

[silverfoxflower.livejournal.com]

Haha ... I love that too, and I really try to do that in my fics :D I'm glad it came through for this one! Thank you for reading ~