Oumasai/Saiouma Oneshots

tickles

"So you're not going to tell me?" Saihara said as he breathed into the other's neck, his single-handed grip on Ouma's wrists tightening as he shifted his weight on top of him.

Almost bursting from the laughter he was holding in, Ouma shook his head, cheeks puffed and blushing.

"Then I guess that leaves me no choice."

"NO— AHAHAH!"

With a screech, Ouma began to wriggle around on the bed as the other tickled his bare ribs, Saihara's hand shoved shamelessly up Ouma's shirt.

"Still don't want to tell me?" Saihara asked cockily, adjusting himself to sit more stably.

"No, n-no, never," Ouma breathed, his cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

Before he could get out another clever remark, Saihara used his free hand to lift Ouma's shirt over his face and use both hands to tickle his ribs on both sides.

Ouma let out a squeak as he frantically grabbed at Saihara's wrists, struggling against his surprisingly strong arms. Saihara could only let out little laughs, seeming completely unbothered by the fact he was practically getting bucked off.

After around a minute of Ouma's cries for mercy, Saihara finally decided to let go of him, holding onto his chest instead as they both caught their breaths from laughing.

"I was starting to get worried you would wake up the neighbors...well, maybe have a heart attack too," Saihara said lightheartedly. "So, where'd you put them?"

"Mmh, I put them in the cookie jar," Ouma said sheepishly as he rested an arm across his own bare stomach.

"With all the cookies in there? It probably has crumbs on it now."

"I'll lick them off for you," Ouma puffed.

"C'mon Kokichi, you can't do this kind of stuff every time I want to go out. You have to be more responsible...and mature. You can't do this every time I get called into work late, it's not like I wouldn't rather stay in bed with you," Saihara said sympathetically as he edged himself off the bed, watching as Ouma silently pouted.

With a kiss on the head and a goodbye, Saihara briskly walked out the room.

Rolling onto his side, Ouma paid close attention to the sound of his husband's steps going down the carpeted stairs, and down to the first floor where he could then hear his shoes click on the hardwood floor. It didn't take long for a very relieved sounding "thank you" to be yelled up to their shared room.

Of course he hadn't actually put the keys in the cookie jar. Well, not before putting them inside a plastic bag. Anything to keep things fun while saving them both from the headache it would have caused later on he supposed.

Not that he would have minded licking the crumbs off.