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Entry tags:
Fic: A (Ryo/Shige), B (Ace/Arsenal), C (Takki/Tsubasa), D (Ryo/Uchi), E (Ryo/Yasu)
Titles: Adjustment (Ryo/Shige), Priceless Distraction (Ace/Arsenal), Get It (Takki/Tsubasa), Some Reward (Ryo/Uchi), Stress Relief (Ryo/Yasu)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Total fiction.
Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misetekink. I had fun. XD
Adjustment (Ryo/Shige)
Ryo's come twice already tonight, but as it nears four in the morning, Shige's still desperate and on the edge of coming for the first time. He’s been clawing at Ryo's back and breathing hard through his nose all this time as Ryo brings him to the edge again and again only to back off just when Shige’s on the brink. Now, Shige’s mouth is pressed against Ryo's shoulder, teeth pressing into his skin, just above a ridge of muscle, and his ankles are digging into Ryo's lower back.
He hates everything about everything right now because Ryo’s stopped touching him again.
Ryo won't move. Won't kiss him. Won't even look at him. He's just–writing an email on his phone.
Shige shoves him off with a shout. The phone clatters to the floor.
Ryo just grins at him. "You noticed, huh?"
That's it. Ryo'll do this for hours. Twenty minutes ago, Shige'd thought Ryo was finally in the right frame of mind to not be a dick and finally suck Shige off, but now Ryo's stopped again and Shige could try to summon some extra bit of patience, but to hell with this.
He almost turns over to finish himself off so he can just go to sleep and move out of their apartment tomorrow and go fall for someone who's less inclined to fuck with his head than with him, but then Shige watches one corner of Ryo's mouth twitch higher than the other and he decides Ryo doesn't deserve to get away with this so easily.
Shige's never been particularly rough with Ryo, but right now he's annoyed and tired and hard so he uses more force than he intends when he shoves Ryo against the mattress and holds him there. He straddles Ryo's hips before Ryo can react and drives his erection against Ryo's gradually hardening cock.
Ryo responds by yanking Shige down by the neck and sucking his lower lip between his teeth. He runs his other hand up and down Shige's back like he's trying to make Shige's skin burn from the friction. Shige never lets up on pinning Ryo down because he knows he'll lose the upper hand immediately if Ryo's not physically under him.
The lube Ryo used earlier is under the pillow, though, and Shige can't get to it without taking one hand off of Ryo's shoulders. Ryo slides his left heel down Shige's calf and grinds his fists into Shige's back and that's Shige's chance–he slides one hand off Ryo's shoulder and under the pillow, his chest pressing flat against Ryo's, and closes his fingers around the tube. That's when Ryo retaliates.
He flips Shige onto his back and clasps one hand around Shige's cock, the other fixed in the center of Shige's chest and pushing down.
Shige swallows a moan. Ryo smirks.
“You’re close, aren’t you?”
As his grip slows down, Shige knocks Ryo's arm away. He pushes himself up and kneels face-to-face with Ryo, whose breath is coming in short, shallow pants. Shige grins. Ryo's body is shaking with what must be either exhaustion or exertion, so Shige says, "Stop," and drives one hand into Ryo's hair to pull him into a kiss that Ryo doesn't have a chance of controlling.
Shige feels the tension leave Ryo's body as he tangles Ryo's hair around his fingers and kisses him like he's starving.
He spreads his legs to ease the pressure on his knees, but Ryo somehow takes that to mean something else. He straddles Shige's hips as if he’s been ordered to and groans from the bottom of his throat. Then Ryo's ass grazes Shige's cock, and Ryo pants, "Do it."
Shige says, “Yeah,” and while Ryo grinds against him, Shige uncaps the lube and coats his hands. Once he’s finished, Ryo grabs the tube from him and pours some on Shige's cock. Shige works one finger into Ryo while Ryo jerks Shige's cock, getting it even harder. Two fingers, then three, and then both of them are stifling noise into each other's mouths and necks and finally, at one point, Ryo just moans with his wet, open mouth pressed against Shige's forehead.
Shige eases his cock into Ryo, watching Ryo's face until sweat stings his eyes and makes him cringe. He keeps his eyes closed from that point on, just going off of feel and sound and the sensation of Ryo's hands clutching his shoulders.
Shige thrusts up as hard as he can and Ryo grinds down and pulls on the hair that curls at Shige's neck. Shige's legs are going to cramp but he keeps thrusting into Ryo, mindless and almost soundless, until Ryo comes with a shout. Shige opens his eyes, sees Ryo jerking himself, pace still fast even as come stripes across Shige's chest. The sight of Ryo's hand on his own cock, his head tilted back, his mouth forming Shige's name–Shige makes a strangled noise and follows.
Ryo kisses Shige’s jaw, sucks a hickey into his neck, and Shige lets him.
Then Ryo whispers, “What’s the score?” and Shige frowns and kicks him off the bed.
Priceless Distraction (Ace/Arsenal)
The target got away because Arsenal missed his shot. It's all he can focus on as he and Ace chase the target down into the subway. He missed. He had a mostly clear shot and he fucked it up.
Because of Ace. Because he was watching out for Ace. Fucking distraction.
Running full out like this is getting more and more challenging lately–Arsenal's lungs hurt, and he can't get enough air. Ace runs on ahead, bolstered by the stamina Arsenal usually deeply appreciates. The target shoves through the late night commuters, leaps onto the tracks, and sprints into the tunnel. Ace doesn’t hesitate in following him down onto the tracks.
Arsenal, though, stops on the ledge and shouts, for the first time in his many years of doing this job, "Just let him go!"
His voice is hoarse, and his right foot pushes on the lip of the ledge, ready to jump, when someone yanks him back by the back of his suit jacket. It's Jacky, sweat-soaked and scowling into the tunnel. There’s a smear of orange light on the stone wall of the tunnel, and it’s getting closer.
Jacky grabs Arsenal around the chest with both arms and Arsenal thrashes against him, trying to get to the tunnel. As the noise increases, some of the commuters lean over the tracks to try and see the kid in the suit and the skinhead he was chasing.
Arsenal yells, "Let go!"
Jacky doesn't. Doesn't, doesn't, fuck him fuck him fuck him, doesn't, and then–
Arsenal screams something, but it's lost in the sound of the train careening by the station.
Ace's shoulder is bruised. It’s the only mark on him right now, but that changes after Arsenal digs his fingers into the skin below the bruise and bites down hard on Ace’s other shoulder. He's out to make marks. His fingernails are blunt, but they've already dug slim runes into Ace's back and down his triceps. His teeth, though, those are sharper, and he's determined to bite down and suck on every curve of Ace's angular body.
Ace is giving back as good as he's getting, groaning shamelessly and louder than he ever has in the past, one hand in Arsenal's hair and yanking like he's trying to break Arsenal's neck, and Arsenal lets him because he's that fucking helpless, he's so furious. Stupid fucking distraction, that's all this kid has become.
Arsenal keeps a tight hold on Ace's hips and never lets up, not an inch, not a centimeter, not at all. He holds their hips together, thrusts hard, grinds harder, and tells Ace to suck him.
Ace smirks, but it's purely for show, because they both remember what happened in the tunnel.
After the train passed, Jacky let Arsenal go. More accurately, his strength drained away, and Arsenal finally shoved him away so he could get down onto the tracks. He doesn't remember what he screamed as he ran, but he remembers hearing echoes in the tunnel, and he doesn't remember thinking "Ace," so he must have been screaming Ace's real name.
Then he found Ace.
Fourteen seconds after that, Jacky found them kneeling in a puddle of sludge, Ace's fingers knotted in Arsenal's hair.
Ace undoes Arsenal's belt and rips it free of the belt loops so hard Arsenal's knees buckle. His teeth rake Arsenal's cock more than once and Arsenal cringes and hisses at him to pay attention, to hurry, to slow down, to go faster, to stop altogether, fuck—concentrate, you brat.
Ace ignores everything and swallows Arsenal's cock down to the base and Arsenal thrusts to get even deeper. Ace moans so hard the sound whites out Arsenal's vision.
Then he hears slick sounds and feels Ace shaking, and he realizes Ace is jacking himself off.
Arsenal groans from his chest, head back, mouth open.
Ace pulls his mouth back and curls his free hand around the base. He jacks Arsenal harder and tighter and sucks him wetter and faster. When Arsenal comes down Ace's throat, he shouts without a sound. Then he pulls Ace up by the shirt and tongue-fucks his mouth until he comes on Arsenal's stomach.
A line of saliva slicks Ace’s chin. Arsenal thumbs it away, panting.
Ace looks wrecked. Eyes red, lip bleeding, come on his face.
Arsenal drags him close and holds Ace's head against his shoulder.
"You fucking" priceless "distraction."
Ace grips Arsenal's hair and nods once.
Get It (Takki/Tsubasa)
Takki takes Tsubasa's choreography seriously for all of three steps, and then he gives up and starts waving his arms and complaining. He's too tense. He's tired. And if they want to do ero ero anything, the bed is right next to them.
"Hey," Tsubasa says. He grabs Takki's wrists and holds them together under Takki's chin until Takki sucks in a deep breath and and shuts up. He doesn't resist Tsubasa's grip. He just adjusts his wrists so they're more snugly fitted into Tsubasa's hands. He seems to be straining for a neutral expression that isn't settling right.
There's a smile trying to lift one corner of Tsubasa's mouth, but he suppresses it and squeezes his fingers around Takki's wrists.
"Closer," he says. "I'll show you."
He doesn't pull Takki, wants Takki to come closer on his own. But he doesn't let go of Takki's wrists, either.
"Come here," Tsubasa says, quieter.
Takki's tongue grazes his bottom lip, then he's pressed against Tsubasa, his curled fingers brushing the underside of Tsubasa's jaw.
Tsubasa grins and guides Takki's arms around his neck, and as Takki spreads the fingers of one hand in Tsubasa's hair, Tsubasa flattens his palms on Takki's lower back and fits their hips together.
He focuses on Takki's mouth and tips his head forward until his own bangs stick to Takki's damp forehead. Takki's already hard, and Tsubasa's almost accidental position adjustments are getting him harder. Takki murmurs, "This isn't dancing, Tsubon." His fingers in Tsubasa's hair grip so hard Tsubasa winces and shoves his thigh between Takki's legs.
"Grind," Tsubasa says.
Takki inhales once, sharply, and tries to angle close enough to kiss, but Tsubasa raises his chin and says, "Earn it." He doesn't move any more than he needs to to speak and to grab fistfuls of Takki's shirt.
Takki loops one arm tighter around Tsubasa's neck and strokes his free hand down Tsubasa's side. Then he rakes his blunt fingernails up Tsubasa's back and drags himself down and then back up Tsubasa's thigh.
Tsubasa stares half-lidded at Takki's throat, at the sweat gathering on his collarbones, at the jawline he wants to bite.
Takki's hand settles between Tsubasa's shoulder blades and forces him closer. Then he exhales against Tsubasa's mouth until his lips are wet from Takki's breath.
Tsubasa breaks first and surges forward to bite Takki’s lower lip and suck on his tongue. Takki makes a ragged noise and gives up all pretense of style and just thrusts hard and without finesse of any kind.
Tsubasa hears Takki's harsh panting whenever they change the angle of their mouths and he catches Takki staring at him like they're strangers and that makes it easier to be rough with him. And while Tsubasa thrusts mindlessly against Takki and sucks vicious marks into his neck, Takki grips Tsubasa's hair and scratches at his back.
When Takki slides the flat of his hand against Tsubasa's flat stomach, under the waist of his dance pants, and closes his sweat-soaked hand around Tsubasa's cock, Tsubasa drags his tongue up Takki's neck and pants, harsh and staccato, into Takki's ear.
"Faster," he hisses.
Takki slows down. His free arm circles around Tsubasa's back, holding him close while keeping his arms somewhat restrained.
"Let go."
Agreeably, Takki says, "All right," and drops to his knees. In two deft moves, he's gotten Tsubasa's pants out of the way and his cock down his throat.
He sucks the head, flattens his tongue against the slit, and then slides it back and down and swallows.
Tsubasa can't hear his own voice. Has no idea if he's making any sound at all.
Then Takki’s tongue curls inventively and his wet fingers press behind Tsubasa’s cock, and Tsubasa comes so hard his knees give out. Takki rears back, startled, just in time to catch a streak of come on his mouth and cheek.
Tsubasa sprawls on the floor, half laughing, and when Takki leans over him looking amused, Tsubasa hooks an arm around his neck and licks the come off his cheek.
He sits up and, with a few subtle gestures, urges Takki to lose his clothes. Takki unbuttons his jeans and before he can stand up to step out of them, Tsubasa swipes the come off his own stomach and curls his slick hand around Takki's cock.
Takki always closes his eyes for handjobs, so Tsubasa uses the opportunity to whisper filth in Takki's ear that might encourage his imagination. Takki's breathing gets hoarser and his hips start to jerk more erratically and once or twice he whispers, "Tsubon," and then just mangled nonsense, and when he comes, it's with a soundless moan that Tsubasa takes into his own mouth.
They're right next to the bed, but Takki objects to moving, and there's no advantage to making him, so Tsubasa just lies down next to him.
"I like your method of teaching," Takki says.
"Thank you," Tsubasa says, smug.
Takki turns his head, grinning, and Tsubasa gives him a small smile back.
Some Reward (Ryo/Uchi)
A line of sweat and rain clings to Uchi's face and neck. Ryo follows it, dragging his tongue from Uchi's collarbone to the corner of his eye.
When Uchi swallows, Ryo can feel his throat swell under his hand. And when Uchi exhales, Ryo can feel the heat on his cheek.
Uchi's been in Ryo's apartment for all of seven seconds.
"I came here to watch movies," Uchi says. It's almost halfway convincing if one doesn't notice the way he's arching his hips and squeezing Ryo's shirt in his fists.
Ryo says, "Right," and goes to his knees.
He knows the fastest way to get Uchi off, but he doesn't use it now. He's got Plans for the next seven hours. Judging by the crinkle of wrappers in Uchi's pocket, so does he.
He works his mouth up and down Uchi's cock, stroking the underside with his tongue. When Uchi's hand is gripping Ryo's hair tight enough to make him flinch, Ryo stands up, fuses his mouth to Uchi's, and finishes them both off in his right hand while his left squeezes Uchi's neck hard enough to bruise.
Ryo comes first with a shudder, and then Uchi follows with a broken-off wail against Ryo's lips.
After a few seconds wherein Ryo debates the pros and cons of letting his knees give out, Uchi laughs and says, "You did all the work and you still came first."
Ryo punches him, still panting. "It's because I'm sexy."
Uchi snorts. "Yeah, that's the reason." He rests his head on Ryo's shoulder and sighs. "That was good, though. Bed now?"
"Nope," Ryo says, smirking. "Porn now. Then the couch. Then the bed. Well--if you can make it that far after the couch."
Uchi pats Ryo's head. "You're dreaming, Ryo-chan. Try me."
Ryo does.
Stress Relief (Ryo/Yasu)
Yasu spends the whole drive to Wakayama asleep on Ryo's shoulder. The familiar smell of his damp hair has soaked into Ryo's shirt.
Keita, the camera guy, is in the front seat talking to the driver. He keeps sneaking footage when he thinks Ryo isn't paying attention, so Ryo entertains himself by giving him stuff to film. Fits his fingers between Yasu's and puts their clasped hands on his lap, rests his cheek on Yasu's hair, stuff like that.
When they arrive at the site for filming, Yasu wakes up and thanks Ryo through a yawn for the use of his shoulder. Ryo squeezes his hand, says, "Sure," and grins.
They eat, they're driven to another spot, they eat, they talk, they walk, and then they're driven to the hotel. Checked in, booked in separate rooms, and yet Ryo winds up in Yasu's room around midnight. Yasu's awake, a sketchpad open on his bed, and his hair is wet from either a shower or a bath.
"Ryo-chan. Can't you sleep?"
Ryo says, "Yeah. Just got bored by myself."
"Oh." Yasu moves to the side to let Ryo in and grabs an extra pair of slippers off the rack near the door. "Here. Stay for a while. I'm not tired yet either."
Ryo smiles. "Thanks, Sho-chan."
He sprawls on Yasu's bed and turns on the TV. Nothing's interesting, so he shuts it off and listens to Yasu's pencil scratching the page instead.
The whole day has felt condensed, like it's been rushed, and the comfortable feeling of Yasu's room drains all the stress from Ryo's body. It's because of that relaxed state of mind that he turns onto his side and puts his head on Yasu's lap, his nose close to the edge of the sketchpad.
He dozes, and Yasu sketches. He rubs Yasu's bare calf, envies the thick cords of muscle there, and nuzzles his mouth against the cloth covering Yasu's hipbone.
The pencil noises stop. Yasu moves the sketchpad off to the side and strokes Ryo's hair.
"Tired?" he asks.
Ryo says, "Nope," and pulls Yasu's shirt up so he can press his lips against Yasu's navel piercing.
Yasu smiles down at him, amused.
That's not the mood Ryo's aiming for, though. He pushes Yasu onto his back and covers him, knees framing the outsides of Yasu's, mouths close together.
Yasu settles his arms around Ryo's neck and kisses Ryo's bottom lip. There's a casual fondness to it that has Ryo focusing on depth and pacing and all the details he usually doesn't notice because he's more into Fast and Hard than...this.
Still. Somehow Yasu always makes this kind of sex worth it.
Yasu's big on kissing. He takes his time, just grazing Ryo's lips at first, and then, when Ryo's breathing is just starting to get faster, he licks into Ryo's mouth and slips his hands underneath Ryo's shirt.
Ryo eases one leg between Yasu's and twists his hips to get better friction.
"Do you want to sleep here?" Yasu asks. His eyes are half-lidded and his mouth is obscenely wet, and Ryo wants to smack him because they have stopped doing what made him look like that.
Instead he just says, "Yeah," and fits their mouths together again. Content with that response, Yasu sucks leisurely on Ryo's tongue and Ryo contentedly twists his fingers in Yasu's hair.
Yasu rolls his hips up and presses Ryo's cock harder against his erection. Ryo's too tired to hold back and comes moaning into Yasu's mouth.
Yasu's not there yet, though, so Ryo decides to be kind and eases Yasu's pants off his hips to finish Yasu off himself.
"Ryo-chan," Yasu groans, just before Ryo swallows his cock. The sound that follows is choked.
Yasu turns completely tactile–his thighs tighten on Ryo's shoulders, his hand brushes Ryo's forehead, and his foot presses and slides against Ryo's knee.
Ryo makes an obscene slurping sound that has Yasu whispering, "Ryo-chan," and squeezing his eyes shut.
Three more jerks, a bit deeper down his throat, and Yasu's coming, too.
It's a pretty typical Sunday night.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Total fiction.
Note: Written for
misetekink. I had fun. XDRyo's come twice already tonight, but as it nears four in the morning, Shige's still desperate and on the edge of coming for the first time. He’s been clawing at Ryo's back and breathing hard through his nose all this time as Ryo brings him to the edge again and again only to back off just when Shige’s on the brink. Now, Shige’s mouth is pressed against Ryo's shoulder, teeth pressing into his skin, just above a ridge of muscle, and his ankles are digging into Ryo's lower back.
He hates everything about everything right now because Ryo’s stopped touching him again.
Ryo won't move. Won't kiss him. Won't even look at him. He's just–writing an email on his phone.
Shige shoves him off with a shout. The phone clatters to the floor.
Ryo just grins at him. "You noticed, huh?"
That's it. Ryo'll do this for hours. Twenty minutes ago, Shige'd thought Ryo was finally in the right frame of mind to not be a dick and finally suck Shige off, but now Ryo's stopped again and Shige could try to summon some extra bit of patience, but to hell with this.
He almost turns over to finish himself off so he can just go to sleep and move out of their apartment tomorrow and go fall for someone who's less inclined to fuck with his head than with him, but then Shige watches one corner of Ryo's mouth twitch higher than the other and he decides Ryo doesn't deserve to get away with this so easily.
Shige's never been particularly rough with Ryo, but right now he's annoyed and tired and hard so he uses more force than he intends when he shoves Ryo against the mattress and holds him there. He straddles Ryo's hips before Ryo can react and drives his erection against Ryo's gradually hardening cock.
Ryo responds by yanking Shige down by the neck and sucking his lower lip between his teeth. He runs his other hand up and down Shige's back like he's trying to make Shige's skin burn from the friction. Shige never lets up on pinning Ryo down because he knows he'll lose the upper hand immediately if Ryo's not physically under him.
The lube Ryo used earlier is under the pillow, though, and Shige can't get to it without taking one hand off of Ryo's shoulders. Ryo slides his left heel down Shige's calf and grinds his fists into Shige's back and that's Shige's chance–he slides one hand off Ryo's shoulder and under the pillow, his chest pressing flat against Ryo's, and closes his fingers around the tube. That's when Ryo retaliates.
He flips Shige onto his back and clasps one hand around Shige's cock, the other fixed in the center of Shige's chest and pushing down.
Shige swallows a moan. Ryo smirks.
“You’re close, aren’t you?”
As his grip slows down, Shige knocks Ryo's arm away. He pushes himself up and kneels face-to-face with Ryo, whose breath is coming in short, shallow pants. Shige grins. Ryo's body is shaking with what must be either exhaustion or exertion, so Shige says, "Stop," and drives one hand into Ryo's hair to pull him into a kiss that Ryo doesn't have a chance of controlling.
Shige feels the tension leave Ryo's body as he tangles Ryo's hair around his fingers and kisses him like he's starving.
He spreads his legs to ease the pressure on his knees, but Ryo somehow takes that to mean something else. He straddles Shige's hips as if he’s been ordered to and groans from the bottom of his throat. Then Ryo's ass grazes Shige's cock, and Ryo pants, "Do it."
Shige says, “Yeah,” and while Ryo grinds against him, Shige uncaps the lube and coats his hands. Once he’s finished, Ryo grabs the tube from him and pours some on Shige's cock. Shige works one finger into Ryo while Ryo jerks Shige's cock, getting it even harder. Two fingers, then three, and then both of them are stifling noise into each other's mouths and necks and finally, at one point, Ryo just moans with his wet, open mouth pressed against Shige's forehead.
Shige eases his cock into Ryo, watching Ryo's face until sweat stings his eyes and makes him cringe. He keeps his eyes closed from that point on, just going off of feel and sound and the sensation of Ryo's hands clutching his shoulders.
Shige thrusts up as hard as he can and Ryo grinds down and pulls on the hair that curls at Shige's neck. Shige's legs are going to cramp but he keeps thrusting into Ryo, mindless and almost soundless, until Ryo comes with a shout. Shige opens his eyes, sees Ryo jerking himself, pace still fast even as come stripes across Shige's chest. The sight of Ryo's hand on his own cock, his head tilted back, his mouth forming Shige's name–Shige makes a strangled noise and follows.
Ryo kisses Shige’s jaw, sucks a hickey into his neck, and Shige lets him.
Then Ryo whispers, “What’s the score?” and Shige frowns and kicks him off the bed.
The target got away because Arsenal missed his shot. It's all he can focus on as he and Ace chase the target down into the subway. He missed. He had a mostly clear shot and he fucked it up.
Because of Ace. Because he was watching out for Ace. Fucking distraction.
Running full out like this is getting more and more challenging lately–Arsenal's lungs hurt, and he can't get enough air. Ace runs on ahead, bolstered by the stamina Arsenal usually deeply appreciates. The target shoves through the late night commuters, leaps onto the tracks, and sprints into the tunnel. Ace doesn’t hesitate in following him down onto the tracks.
Arsenal, though, stops on the ledge and shouts, for the first time in his many years of doing this job, "Just let him go!"
His voice is hoarse, and his right foot pushes on the lip of the ledge, ready to jump, when someone yanks him back by the back of his suit jacket. It's Jacky, sweat-soaked and scowling into the tunnel. There’s a smear of orange light on the stone wall of the tunnel, and it’s getting closer.
Jacky grabs Arsenal around the chest with both arms and Arsenal thrashes against him, trying to get to the tunnel. As the noise increases, some of the commuters lean over the tracks to try and see the kid in the suit and the skinhead he was chasing.
Arsenal yells, "Let go!"
Jacky doesn't. Doesn't, doesn't, fuck him fuck him fuck him, doesn't, and then–
Arsenal screams something, but it's lost in the sound of the train careening by the station.
Ace's shoulder is bruised. It’s the only mark on him right now, but that changes after Arsenal digs his fingers into the skin below the bruise and bites down hard on Ace’s other shoulder. He's out to make marks. His fingernails are blunt, but they've already dug slim runes into Ace's back and down his triceps. His teeth, though, those are sharper, and he's determined to bite down and suck on every curve of Ace's angular body.
Ace is giving back as good as he's getting, groaning shamelessly and louder than he ever has in the past, one hand in Arsenal's hair and yanking like he's trying to break Arsenal's neck, and Arsenal lets him because he's that fucking helpless, he's so furious. Stupid fucking distraction, that's all this kid has become.
Arsenal keeps a tight hold on Ace's hips and never lets up, not an inch, not a centimeter, not at all. He holds their hips together, thrusts hard, grinds harder, and tells Ace to suck him.
Ace smirks, but it's purely for show, because they both remember what happened in the tunnel.
After the train passed, Jacky let Arsenal go. More accurately, his strength drained away, and Arsenal finally shoved him away so he could get down onto the tracks. He doesn't remember what he screamed as he ran, but he remembers hearing echoes in the tunnel, and he doesn't remember thinking "Ace," so he must have been screaming Ace's real name.
Then he found Ace.
Fourteen seconds after that, Jacky found them kneeling in a puddle of sludge, Ace's fingers knotted in Arsenal's hair.
Ace undoes Arsenal's belt and rips it free of the belt loops so hard Arsenal's knees buckle. His teeth rake Arsenal's cock more than once and Arsenal cringes and hisses at him to pay attention, to hurry, to slow down, to go faster, to stop altogether, fuck—concentrate, you brat.
Ace ignores everything and swallows Arsenal's cock down to the base and Arsenal thrusts to get even deeper. Ace moans so hard the sound whites out Arsenal's vision.
Then he hears slick sounds and feels Ace shaking, and he realizes Ace is jacking himself off.
Arsenal groans from his chest, head back, mouth open.
Ace pulls his mouth back and curls his free hand around the base. He jacks Arsenal harder and tighter and sucks him wetter and faster. When Arsenal comes down Ace's throat, he shouts without a sound. Then he pulls Ace up by the shirt and tongue-fucks his mouth until he comes on Arsenal's stomach.
A line of saliva slicks Ace’s chin. Arsenal thumbs it away, panting.
Ace looks wrecked. Eyes red, lip bleeding, come on his face.
Arsenal drags him close and holds Ace's head against his shoulder.
"You fucking" priceless "distraction."
Ace grips Arsenal's hair and nods once.
Takki takes Tsubasa's choreography seriously for all of three steps, and then he gives up and starts waving his arms and complaining. He's too tense. He's tired. And if they want to do ero ero anything, the bed is right next to them.
"Hey," Tsubasa says. He grabs Takki's wrists and holds them together under Takki's chin until Takki sucks in a deep breath and and shuts up. He doesn't resist Tsubasa's grip. He just adjusts his wrists so they're more snugly fitted into Tsubasa's hands. He seems to be straining for a neutral expression that isn't settling right.
There's a smile trying to lift one corner of Tsubasa's mouth, but he suppresses it and squeezes his fingers around Takki's wrists.
"Closer," he says. "I'll show you."
He doesn't pull Takki, wants Takki to come closer on his own. But he doesn't let go of Takki's wrists, either.
"Come here," Tsubasa says, quieter.
Takki's tongue grazes his bottom lip, then he's pressed against Tsubasa, his curled fingers brushing the underside of Tsubasa's jaw.
Tsubasa grins and guides Takki's arms around his neck, and as Takki spreads the fingers of one hand in Tsubasa's hair, Tsubasa flattens his palms on Takki's lower back and fits their hips together.
He focuses on Takki's mouth and tips his head forward until his own bangs stick to Takki's damp forehead. Takki's already hard, and Tsubasa's almost accidental position adjustments are getting him harder. Takki murmurs, "This isn't dancing, Tsubon." His fingers in Tsubasa's hair grip so hard Tsubasa winces and shoves his thigh between Takki's legs.
"Grind," Tsubasa says.
Takki inhales once, sharply, and tries to angle close enough to kiss, but Tsubasa raises his chin and says, "Earn it." He doesn't move any more than he needs to to speak and to grab fistfuls of Takki's shirt.
Takki loops one arm tighter around Tsubasa's neck and strokes his free hand down Tsubasa's side. Then he rakes his blunt fingernails up Tsubasa's back and drags himself down and then back up Tsubasa's thigh.
Tsubasa stares half-lidded at Takki's throat, at the sweat gathering on his collarbones, at the jawline he wants to bite.
Takki's hand settles between Tsubasa's shoulder blades and forces him closer. Then he exhales against Tsubasa's mouth until his lips are wet from Takki's breath.
Tsubasa breaks first and surges forward to bite Takki’s lower lip and suck on his tongue. Takki makes a ragged noise and gives up all pretense of style and just thrusts hard and without finesse of any kind.
Tsubasa hears Takki's harsh panting whenever they change the angle of their mouths and he catches Takki staring at him like they're strangers and that makes it easier to be rough with him. And while Tsubasa thrusts mindlessly against Takki and sucks vicious marks into his neck, Takki grips Tsubasa's hair and scratches at his back.
When Takki slides the flat of his hand against Tsubasa's flat stomach, under the waist of his dance pants, and closes his sweat-soaked hand around Tsubasa's cock, Tsubasa drags his tongue up Takki's neck and pants, harsh and staccato, into Takki's ear.
"Faster," he hisses.
Takki slows down. His free arm circles around Tsubasa's back, holding him close while keeping his arms somewhat restrained.
"Let go."
Agreeably, Takki says, "All right," and drops to his knees. In two deft moves, he's gotten Tsubasa's pants out of the way and his cock down his throat.
He sucks the head, flattens his tongue against the slit, and then slides it back and down and swallows.
Tsubasa can't hear his own voice. Has no idea if he's making any sound at all.
Then Takki’s tongue curls inventively and his wet fingers press behind Tsubasa’s cock, and Tsubasa comes so hard his knees give out. Takki rears back, startled, just in time to catch a streak of come on his mouth and cheek.
Tsubasa sprawls on the floor, half laughing, and when Takki leans over him looking amused, Tsubasa hooks an arm around his neck and licks the come off his cheek.
He sits up and, with a few subtle gestures, urges Takki to lose his clothes. Takki unbuttons his jeans and before he can stand up to step out of them, Tsubasa swipes the come off his own stomach and curls his slick hand around Takki's cock.
Takki always closes his eyes for handjobs, so Tsubasa uses the opportunity to whisper filth in Takki's ear that might encourage his imagination. Takki's breathing gets hoarser and his hips start to jerk more erratically and once or twice he whispers, "Tsubon," and then just mangled nonsense, and when he comes, it's with a soundless moan that Tsubasa takes into his own mouth.
They're right next to the bed, but Takki objects to moving, and there's no advantage to making him, so Tsubasa just lies down next to him.
"I like your method of teaching," Takki says.
"Thank you," Tsubasa says, smug.
Takki turns his head, grinning, and Tsubasa gives him a small smile back.
A line of sweat and rain clings to Uchi's face and neck. Ryo follows it, dragging his tongue from Uchi's collarbone to the corner of his eye.
When Uchi swallows, Ryo can feel his throat swell under his hand. And when Uchi exhales, Ryo can feel the heat on his cheek.
Uchi's been in Ryo's apartment for all of seven seconds.
"I came here to watch movies," Uchi says. It's almost halfway convincing if one doesn't notice the way he's arching his hips and squeezing Ryo's shirt in his fists.
Ryo says, "Right," and goes to his knees.
He knows the fastest way to get Uchi off, but he doesn't use it now. He's got Plans for the next seven hours. Judging by the crinkle of wrappers in Uchi's pocket, so does he.
He works his mouth up and down Uchi's cock, stroking the underside with his tongue. When Uchi's hand is gripping Ryo's hair tight enough to make him flinch, Ryo stands up, fuses his mouth to Uchi's, and finishes them both off in his right hand while his left squeezes Uchi's neck hard enough to bruise.
Ryo comes first with a shudder, and then Uchi follows with a broken-off wail against Ryo's lips.
After a few seconds wherein Ryo debates the pros and cons of letting his knees give out, Uchi laughs and says, "You did all the work and you still came first."
Ryo punches him, still panting. "It's because I'm sexy."
Uchi snorts. "Yeah, that's the reason." He rests his head on Ryo's shoulder and sighs. "That was good, though. Bed now?"
"Nope," Ryo says, smirking. "Porn now. Then the couch. Then the bed. Well--if you can make it that far after the couch."
Uchi pats Ryo's head. "You're dreaming, Ryo-chan. Try me."
Ryo does.
Yasu spends the whole drive to Wakayama asleep on Ryo's shoulder. The familiar smell of his damp hair has soaked into Ryo's shirt.
Keita, the camera guy, is in the front seat talking to the driver. He keeps sneaking footage when he thinks Ryo isn't paying attention, so Ryo entertains himself by giving him stuff to film. Fits his fingers between Yasu's and puts their clasped hands on his lap, rests his cheek on Yasu's hair, stuff like that.
When they arrive at the site for filming, Yasu wakes up and thanks Ryo through a yawn for the use of his shoulder. Ryo squeezes his hand, says, "Sure," and grins.
They eat, they're driven to another spot, they eat, they talk, they walk, and then they're driven to the hotel. Checked in, booked in separate rooms, and yet Ryo winds up in Yasu's room around midnight. Yasu's awake, a sketchpad open on his bed, and his hair is wet from either a shower or a bath.
"Ryo-chan. Can't you sleep?"
Ryo says, "Yeah. Just got bored by myself."
"Oh." Yasu moves to the side to let Ryo in and grabs an extra pair of slippers off the rack near the door. "Here. Stay for a while. I'm not tired yet either."
Ryo smiles. "Thanks, Sho-chan."
He sprawls on Yasu's bed and turns on the TV. Nothing's interesting, so he shuts it off and listens to Yasu's pencil scratching the page instead.
The whole day has felt condensed, like it's been rushed, and the comfortable feeling of Yasu's room drains all the stress from Ryo's body. It's because of that relaxed state of mind that he turns onto his side and puts his head on Yasu's lap, his nose close to the edge of the sketchpad.
He dozes, and Yasu sketches. He rubs Yasu's bare calf, envies the thick cords of muscle there, and nuzzles his mouth against the cloth covering Yasu's hipbone.
The pencil noises stop. Yasu moves the sketchpad off to the side and strokes Ryo's hair.
"Tired?" he asks.
Ryo says, "Nope," and pulls Yasu's shirt up so he can press his lips against Yasu's navel piercing.
Yasu smiles down at him, amused.
That's not the mood Ryo's aiming for, though. He pushes Yasu onto his back and covers him, knees framing the outsides of Yasu's, mouths close together.
Yasu settles his arms around Ryo's neck and kisses Ryo's bottom lip. There's a casual fondness to it that has Ryo focusing on depth and pacing and all the details he usually doesn't notice because he's more into Fast and Hard than...this.
Still. Somehow Yasu always makes this kind of sex worth it.
Yasu's big on kissing. He takes his time, just grazing Ryo's lips at first, and then, when Ryo's breathing is just starting to get faster, he licks into Ryo's mouth and slips his hands underneath Ryo's shirt.
Ryo eases one leg between Yasu's and twists his hips to get better friction.
"Do you want to sleep here?" Yasu asks. His eyes are half-lidded and his mouth is obscenely wet, and Ryo wants to smack him because they have stopped doing what made him look like that.
Instead he just says, "Yeah," and fits their mouths together again. Content with that response, Yasu sucks leisurely on Ryo's tongue and Ryo contentedly twists his fingers in Yasu's hair.
Yasu rolls his hips up and presses Ryo's cock harder against his erection. Ryo's too tired to hold back and comes moaning into Yasu's mouth.
Yasu's not there yet, though, so Ryo decides to be kind and eases Yasu's pants off his hips to finish Yasu off himself.
"Ryo-chan," Yasu groans, just before Ryo swallows his cock. The sound that follows is choked.
Yasu turns completely tactile–his thighs tighten on Ryo's shoulders, his hand brushes Ryo's forehead, and his foot presses and slides against Ryo's knee.
Ryo makes an obscene slurping sound that has Yasu whispering, "Ryo-chan," and squeezing his eyes shut.
Three more jerks, a bit deeper down his throat, and Yasu's coming, too.
It's a pretty typical Sunday night.
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AND PORN IN GENERAL.
:D
*corrects typo*
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I said this already, but I really like that line *_*
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I was surprised how much I enjoyed writing them! Trying new things is good, yes? XD