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Where's My Hero? Chapter 1Chapter 1 (Misaki)
"Go away," Usagi said, shutting the door in Sumi's face.
Misaki, who had been ambushed by a tired Usagi at the door, yelped as he was dragged
backward. Sumi had shown up to walk with Misaki to the university, but Misaki hadn't
counted on Usagi still being awake after three days of working. Now he was confronted
again by a very sleepy, dangerously jealous Usagi His flails were, as usual, useless
against the grip of the possessive man.
"You can't just shut the door like that Usagi-san!" MIsaki whined, "and get offa me!"
His whines were cut short as Usagi gripped his hips tightly. He could feel the man
was annoyed with the sight of Sumi so early in the morning (especially since it
interrupted one of Usagi's attacks). Despite the blush that was slowly surfacing on
Misaki's face, he continued to be stubborn.
"What do you think you're doing,you pervert!" MIsaki yelled.
There was a silence f
Where's My Hero? Chapter 2Chapter 2 (Usagi)
Usagi sat down heavily at the table. He hated when Misaki left for school, it was
always so quiet without him stomping around, and quiet was not a good thing to have when
he still had so many pages to type for his next book.
Usagi sighed and looked over his half finished breakfast. Misaki's food. He didn't
like eating alone, but passing up food made by the kid was unthinkable. As he started to
sluggishly chow down he was reminded of the morning again, and the little rat of a
'Why is Misaki so forgiving?' He thought in less intelligent terms than usual (due to
his tired brain). 'He's going to get himself hurt.'
He paused, putting down his chopsticks, 'I have to admit that nothing has happened
since then, but that doesn't mean I can forgive the brat...'
The phone managed to startle him awake again. The first thing he looked at was the
clock, hoping for a moment that Misaki was calling for a ride.
He shook his head a little
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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