backtrack,
pairing: Wally/Kuki
time: 30 minutes
words: 544
summary: "The heat does funny things, huh?"
"I'm melting. And bored. Why can't you be more interesting, Wally?"
The words are uttered by the Oriental girl stretched out on his lawn, sipping his Japanese soda (although she was the one who suggested it), covered by his orange sweatshirt. An empty box of strawberry Pocky lays curled limply in her pale hands.
Her hands are stretched up over her head, reminding him of a cozy cat. Her white arms connect to delicate wrists, covered by cruddy camp lanyards and friendship bracelets and charm links and a plastic piano cuff. Her black hair is matted, ebony-gold in the fading but still determined sunlight, swirling around her narrow white shoulders like a blue-black whirlpool. Her pink tank top is smeared with dust and dirt and sweat and collected memories, stitched into the cotton. Her orange-painted toes stretch out like a ballerina, pointed at him.
"And how should I prove to you that I'm interesting?"
School's been out as of a week ago, and the days have been filled with bike-riding and dog-walking and lawn-mowing and sprinkler-running, beach-chasing and swimming and jumping the waves and playing softball in sandy swimsuits. Memories are filled with twinkling bike spokes and spray-on sunscreen gone awry, shared popsicles and her yellow argyle bikini and the flat stretch of her soft stomach covered by the unadulterated blue of the ocean.
She shrugs. "I don't know. Why don't you sing to me or something?" She giggles at the thought.
"Sing to you?"
She props herself up on her elbows, swinging the glossy curtain of her black hair around her shoulder, and looks him square in the eye without the hint of a laugh. "Yes. Prove it to me. That you're worth being my boyfriend." She smiles, butterfly eyelashes drifting downward.
She smells like sunscreen and freshly mowed lawns and honey and plastic flipflops and everything good about summer. She's messy and sloppy and irresistible, pink lips pursed with anticipation, alabaster skin and ivory complexion and rose cheeks, cyan irises and long sparkly eyelashes. She's in her own halo, rays of pink sunshine coming down to greet her. He cringes at the word boyfriend. He still doesn't like that phrase.
He glares at her, resisting the pull of her creamy skin. "I'm plenty interesting, song or not." He tips her back into the thick green grass, covering her lips with his, cupping her cheeks in both calloused, experience hands. Her soft bobbin neck moves to accommodate his more effectively, swollen lips moving. He uses his tongue and teeth expertly, drawing a response from her. His hands are in her thick hair, hers around his neck and damp t-shirt. His hand finds the soft skin between the gap of her sophy shorts and tank top, tracing the delicate bumps of her spine.
He pulls away, satisfied, looking at her swollen lips. She's breathing hard but smiling, her violet, sparkling aubergine eyes happy.
"Point proven."
Sticky ficlet about the messy beauty of both summer and certain Asiatic girls. I'm happy with it. Not only does it cover my feelings about summer, but it's full up with Wally-Kuki fluffiness.
Hikasne