Kitayama might be taking a picture of this (mousapelli) wrote,
Kitayama might be taking a picture of this
mousapelli

  • Mood:

Fic, Kis-My-Ft2, Holding Back

Title: Holding Back [Miyata/Tamamori]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for cockrings. See below for blame.
Summary: Tamamori's ready to try new things, Miyata has questions about the directions.
AN: This was supposed to be for Miyata's Hatachi this year, but I suck and then snowqueenofhoth would not leave me alone about getting a cock ring in there, and i had to do research and there's a picture of one that's been sitting on my desktop for weeks and I THINK OTHER PEOPLE SAW IT WHEN I BROUGHT THE LAPTOP TO A MEETING YESTERDAY. SADFACE.


Holding Back

They were napping on Tamamori’s bed, alone in the house for the afternoon, when he brought up the idea the first time.

“No way,” Miyata said. “Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be like that, Miyacchi,” Tamamori said, stretched out in a lazy sprawl against Miyata’s side, and he drew fingers lightly across Miyata’s belly to make him shiver. “You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“You’re not using a cock ring,” Miyata said bluntly, putting his hand over Tamamori’s to squash it flat, and Tamamori snickered and shivered at the same time at Miyata using the words ‘cock ring.’ “Those things are dangerous, you could hurt…you know, yourself.”

“You can say cock ring,” Tamamori asked, amused, “but you can’t say ‘your cock?’”

“We aren’t in a porno,” Miyata shifted, embarrassed, but he relaxed when Tamamori leaned up to kiss him lazily. “Anyway,” Miyata says when Tamamori pulls away, “where’d you…oh god, it was A.B.C., wasn’t it?”

“Kawai swears by them.” Tamamori grinned when Miyata made a pained noise. “Look, you can’t be surprised. They know better than anybody when we disappear and how short it is before we come back.”

“Don’t you mean how long?” Miyata asked.

“No,” Tamamori answered, lips thin. “No, I don’t.”

“You know I don’t care about that.” Miyata slid his hand up into Tamamori’s hair and scratched at his scalp until Tamamori was limp against him again. “I like you the way you are, and I don’t need whatever…things…Kawai needs to get off.” Miyata paused, then wrinkled his nose. “Or not get off. As the case may be.”

“It’s not all about you, you know,” Tamamori grumbled, but then he yawned, nose scrunched up, and when he drifted off without arguing any further, Miyata figured that would be the end of it.

He certainly wasn’t thinking much about it a couple weeks later, when he was in the midst of downing a round of birthday shots, Fujigaya hugging Goseki drunkenly on one side while on the other Kitayama and Tottsu argued over what flavor Jell-O shot they should have next.

“That’s enough for you!” Kawai appeared suddenly and slapped an arm around Miyata’s shoulders, making him stumble under the weight.

“Hey!” Miyata protested as Kawai started strolling away from the bar, pulling Miyata along with him. “We just got started!”

“Can’t have you too sloshed,” Kawai turned his head to grin at Miyata as they slid their way through the crowded club. He leaned close enough for Miyata to hear his words, breath warm against Miyata’s ear. “It’ll spoil your present if you can’t get in on the action.”

Kawai dropped his hand from Miyata’s shoulder to stroke his hip, clarifying his point. Buzzed enough that the whirl of the crowd around them was slightly sickening, Miyata swallowed hard, and he sucked in a breath of air gratefully when they finally escaped the noise of the club.

Then he blinked in confusion as Kawai continued to steer him, down the block, making a right at the corner down a smaller side-street.

“What…” he started, but Kawai pinched Miyata’s waist, making him squeak.

“Se~cret,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

Miyata was a lot less confused, but far more embarrassed, when Kawai pushed him into a rather non-descript building before Miyata could read the sign properly and then stopped in front of a machine with a lot of dubiously-labeled choices on the buttons.

“Fumito!” Miyata hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “What the hell! Do you know what’ll happen to us if we’re photographed in a love hotel?!”

“Aww,” Kawai shot a fleeting glance at Miyata’s flushed cheeks, “it’s your first time in one, isn’t it?”

“No!” Miyata protested, then when Kawai raised an eyebrow, glared at his shoes. “Maybe.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kawai soothed, and then finally found the label he was looking for. “Aha! You’re looking for room 9. Just go down the hall and knock. Later!”

“W-wait!” Miyata protested. “Where are you going?”

“Back to drinking, of course!” Kawai made shooing motions as he backed out of the lobby. “Go on! You’ll have fun, I pro~mise!”

Miyata lurked indecisively in the lobby for a minute, debating just fleeing the scene, but then his drunken sense of chivalry kicked in, and he turned to go down the hall and at least tell whoever was in room 9 that wouldn’t be in need of their services.

But when he knocked on the door, glancing up and down the hallway as if a hoard of fangirls were going to come pouring down it any moment, cell phones in hand, the voice that came from the other side of the door made him freeze with his knuckles still against the door.

“Come in!”

Miyata all but shoved the door open and leaned in, and there indeed was Tamamori, lounging around on the bed on his stomach, hair damp, the fluffiest, whitest robe Miyata had ever seen slipping off one of his shoulders.

“Ne, don’t stand there!” Tamamori chuckled, but his cheeks were turning nearly as pink as Miyata’s. “Get in here and shut the door before somebody sees!”

“Who…what…” Miyata shoved the door shut and leaned back against it for support. “Kawai?”

“It’s your birthday present.” Tamamori sat up, trying to tug the short robe down to keep himself covered, but all it did was tug the material further off his shoulder. “A.B.C. chipped in for the room. I think we got the Angel/Devil suite, by they way.” Tamamori waved a hand a the white fuzziness he was wrapped in and Miyata followed the motion helplessly. “But I’m not putting on the wings, they look complicated. Although if you wanted the pitchfork…”

“I don’t want the pitchfork,” Miyata rushed to say, and suddenly he could move again and was kicking off his shoes and dropping his jacket on the ground so he could crawl on the bed and see if the robe was as soft as it looked.

It was, and Tamamori melted against Miyata as Miyata kissed him, not sure whether it was the alcohol or the rub of Tamamori against him that was making the room spin. Tamamori whimpered when Miyata’s cold fingers brushed over the back of his neck, then threaded through the damp hair there and tugged. Tamamori got hands up under the back of Miyata’s T-shirt, and Miyata broke the kiss with a gasp.

“You smell like something I drank earlier,” Miyata mumbled against the curve of Tamamori’s bare shoulder, making Tamamori squirm. “Should I get a bath too, or…”

“No, stay here,” Tamamori ordered. “You haven’t seen my present for you yet.”

“Huh?” Miyata blinked when Tamamori shifted back out of his grip. He bit his lip, chewing on it nervously for a second, then yanked the tie of the robe loose and let it fall entirely off his shoulders.

Miyata wasn’t sure which part of what he was looking at was the present for a second or too, but when his gaze traveled further south, he saw what looked like a leather bracelet tight around Tamamori’s half-hard cock.

“Is that…” Miyata’s eyes widened, but he swallowed the rush of want through his chest. “Tama, we talked about that! I don’t…”

“It’s completely safe,” Tamamori cut Miyata off smoothly. “It’s a beginner one. I read all the directions, twice. And then the English ones. And then the Spanish ones.”

Miyata furrowed his brow.

“You took a long time to get here, okay?” Tamamori cleared his throat. “Anyway, I told you, it isn’t just about you. Sometimes I’d like it if things lasted a bit longer, you know?”

There was a long pause before Miyata asked in a small voice. “Beginner one?”

Tamamori grinned and sidled closer, sneaking a quick kiss. “We can always upgrade. Christmas is only a few months away…New Year’s…Valentine’s Day…”

“Fuck, how complicated do these things get?” Miyata demanded, and Tamamori laughed and shoved him down onto his back. He threw a leg over Miyata’s waist and pushed his T-shirt up over his head, letting his palms graze Miyata’s skin on the way.

“We’ll take it slow,” he reassured when Miyata’s head was free and leaned down for another kiss. “Anyway, it’s your birthday, so just do what you normally do. Except here we can be as loud as we want.”

“You’re a genius,” Miyata said in complete adoration as he ran his fingers down Tamamori’s spine and got a low moan in response. He took his time that way, sliding his hands over Tamamori everywhere he could reach, watching in fascination as Tamamori’s skin flushed and Tamamori shifted into the touch, asking for more. Miyata’s gaze skipped down between Tamamori’s legs every few seconds, Tamamori’s cock hard and darker than Miyata was used to.

“Fucking tease,” Tamamori finally groaned, hands digging in tightly where they rested on Miyata’s chest, and his thighs were trembling where they were tight around Miyata’s waist. “Jeans off, please?”

Miyata flipped them over while he was at it, and Tamamori pulled him over until Miyata’s weight was pushing him down into the bed. Miyata kissed him fiercely, both of them groaning, but then after a few moments shifted to the side to slide a hand down Tamamori’s stomach. Tamamori jerked against his mouth when Miyata’s fingers finally closed around his cock, and his hands came up to wrap tight in Miyata’s hair.

Miyata took his time exploring the feel of the leather strap against Tamamori’s skin, rubbing his own cock against Tamamori’s hip, until Tamamori was pleading with him to get on with it.

“Whose birthday is this again?” Miyata asked, rubbing his thumb through the wetness gathering on Tamamori’s tip.

“If something doesn’t get inside me right now,” Tamamori groaned, pulling Miyata’s hair harder, “I’m going to come all over you, cock ring or no cock ring.”

“Fuck, stop talking like that.” Miyata had to squeeze his eyes shut and take a shuddering breath. “Or I won’t make it inside anything.”

Given their environs, finding the lube and condoms only took a second, and when Miyata refused to rush, Tamamori got up on one elbow to push one of his fingers into himself alongside Miyata’s.

“If you stop, I’ll kill you,” Tamamori said, voice strained, when Miyata growled his disapproval and started to pull back. Miyata narrowed his eyes and shoved back in harder, making Tamamori throw his head back with a gasp of Miyata’s name.

It was hot enough that Miyata didn’t argue when Tamamori added another of his own fingers, he just watched Tamamori push down against their fingers and focused all his energy on not coming himself, on not giving in to the temptation to just grind himself to completion against Tamamori’s thigh.

“Please,” Tamamori said desperately, pulling his fingers free and wrapping a lube-slick hand around Miyata wrist to pull him out as well. He kept his fingers wrapped tight around Miyata’s wrist, tight enough to maybe leave marks as he yanked Miyata’s hand up to force him to crawl closer. “Fuck, please, I can’t wait, please.”

Miyata was far too gone to answer as he pushed inside of Tamamori, pressing forward until he was buried deeply enough to get his mouth against Tamamori’s for a rushed, messy kiss. Tamamori’s cock was sharp against Miyata’s stomach, making him moan and thrust before either one of them was really ready.

“Don’t stop,” Tamamori begged, almost a sob, wrapping arms around Miyata’s neck to hold himself in place and pressing his fore head against Miyata’s shoulder. “Feels really good, harder.”

Tamamori kept on talking, making Miyata’s blood rush, things that Miyata would have barely imagined Tamamori saying before this, and not at all what he’d thought Tamamori meant about them being able to be as loud as they wanted. He made up for it with his own moans, sporadically managing to groan Tamamori’s name.

All of the sudden, he realized that he couldn’t hold back any longer, taken by surprise since it hadn’t ever been a problem before.

“Tama,” he struggled to get a warning out, “gonna…”

“Oh thank god,” Tamamori answered, sounding just as desperate, and just as Miyata reached his limit, he dimly felt Tamamori scrabble between them with a hand, then heard the sharp click of snaps being undone.

When Miyata could think again, Tamamori was still shuddering against him, their stomachs slick from Tamamori’s release, and Miyata kissed him fiercely, even though most of his body was still refusing to do what he told it to. They came down that way, sharing hot, deep kisses that only lasted a second or two each because both of them were still panting for air.

“You’re crushing my hand,” Tamamori finally said, voice shaky, and Miyata shifted barely enough for Tamamori to pull it loose before Miyata was kissing him again. “You are so into the cock ring.”

“Only because it was on you,” Miyata answered. “I would have been into the wings or the pitchfork too if that’s what you had when I showed up…not,” Miyata clarified when Tamamori made an interested noise and started to shift away, “that I’m letting you up to get either of those things.”

Tamamori made a noise like he wasn’t sure he was convinced, and Miyata set out to work harder on that.

“How long do we have in here?” Miyata asked eventually. They’d worked themselves over to the side, Miyata on his back and Tamamori halfway on top of him, Miyata having slipped out of him at some point but still rubbing against him with slow circles of his hips.

“Kawai’ll call,” Tamamori murmured vaguely, tilting his head back to let Miyata press teeth against more of his neck.

Not that they heard the phone when he did, what with the way Tamamori was wailing himself hoarse, but it did make things more interesting when an delegation of Ebikisu members showed up at the door to collect them.

OMAKE

“Good morning,” Miyata said several days later as Tamamori slunk into practice, suppressing a chuckle when Tamamori gave him a black look.

“Morning,” Tamamori grunted, then grit his teeth when behind him Nikaido yelled out an inquiry about whether or not Tamamori had his voice back.

Miyata’s amusement melted into something darker when he glanced down and noticed something familiar snapped around Tamamori’s wrist.

“Tama-chan,” Miyata lowered his voice and darted a glance to see if anybody else had noticed, “is that the…”

“Shut up,” Tamamori snapped miserably. “My mother caught me with it and I had to tell her it was a new bracelet and now I have to tell my father where I got it so he can get one for her for their anniversary.”

“Well,” Miyata had zero success suppressing his snorts of laughter, “maybe since we’ve been giving them so much business, they’ll give him free engraving or something.”

“Miyata…” Tamamori growled a warning.

“‘Can’t restrain myself when it comes to you,’” Miyata suggested, giving up and hooting with laughter. “Or, ‘Loving you is a snap’ or…”

Miyata regretted his insensitivity immediately when Tamamori informed the entire dressing room that Miyata wouldn’t be getting fucked in the prop closet anytime in the near future.

“All RIGHT,” Kawai exclaimed, high-fiving Fujigaya. “I was starting to think we’d have to put in reservations to get into that place.”
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

  • 10 comments