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

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Fic, Hey! Say! JUMP, Completely Clueless

Title: Completely Clueless [Yamada/Yuto]
Rating/Warnings: R for Yamada teaching Yuto important things.
Summary: Yuto somehow doesn't know anything, but Yamada thinks it's cute. Mostly.
AN: I blame chiharu for this action right here.


Completely Clueless

Nakajima Yuto is one of those people who somehow remain completely innocent, despite the fact that he’s been in the Jimusho for almost half a decade. He’s talented and attractive enough that it doesn’t seem possible, but somehow Yuto manages to stay completely clueless about things that most juniors learn the first time they’re naked in a locker room. Yamada thinks Yuto’s naiveté is cute, most of the time.

Now is not one of those times.

“What is it?” Yamada asks, keeping his voice calm despite the fact that reasonable is about the last thing he wants to be with only ten minutes or so until the rest of 7 comes back from their half of the photoshoot.

Yuto looks away and shrugs his shoulders, the slick fabric of his jacket rustling along the wall that Yamada has him pressed up against.

“Yuto,” Yamada brushes his nose against Yuto’s cheek, and Yuto shivers underneath him, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s…” Yuto seems to shrink in on himself a bit, hunches his shoulders to make himself look smaller like he does on stage sometimes. “I feel weird.”

“Why?” Yamada asks, reluctantly backing up a step because it seems like the only way to get a good look at Yuto’s face. “It’s just you and me here, there’s nothing to feel weird about.”

“No, I mean,” Yuto’s blushing now, and Yamada can’t stop his imagination from working on what that blush might look like if they were alone in Yamada’s room and wearing a lot fewer clothes. “I feel weird. Like…too warm. Sort of itchy. My stomach feels funny.”

For a second, Yamada doesn’t even have a response to that, he just stares at Yuto with his mouth open a little.

“Do you think I’m getting sick?” Yuto asks, looking very serious.

“Yuto,” Yamada says after a couple seconds of silence, “you haven’t liked anybody before me, have you?” Yuto drops his gaze and shakes his head. “You’re supposed to feel weird.”

Yuto looks back up and blinks. “I am?”

Yamada gives up on talking, which is getting them exactly nowhere, and just leans in to kiss Yuto before he can move. At first Yuto lets him, passive as Yamada urges his head to tilt to one side and kisses him more firmly. Then Yuto relaxes into it, mouth moving a little under Yamada’s as if testing, and Yamada brushes his palm over Yuto’s cheek in encouragement.

Just as Yamada thinks they might be getting somewhere, Yuto stiffens back up and pushes Yamada away. Yamada growls, but when he opens his eyes, Yuto is staring at the floor, looking embarrassed and miserable, and Yamada tries to swallow his frustration.

His voice still comes out rather snappish when he demands, “What?”

“It’s weird,” Yuto insists, refusing to meet Yamada’s gaze.

Yamada counts to ten, taking deep breaths, and when his head is bit clearer, he notices the way Yuto is shifting uncomfortably centers mostly around his hips, and then he thinks he understands.

“Hey!” Yuto protests when Yamada leans in close again. He tries to push against Yamada, to twist away, but Yamada grabs his waist to hold him still, and then presses against him from chest to knee. “Stop it!”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Yamada asks, nudging at the hard length digging into his hip.

“Yamada!” Yuto wails, completely flustered. “I’m serious, let go!”

“No. Stop struggling and look at me.”

Yuto does, because he always does what Yamada tells him to, even though he looks like all he wants is to sink through the floor. Yamada strokes Yuto’s waist under his jacket soothingly.

“It’s not weird,” he says. “And it’s not just you.”

Yamada rolls his hips, just enough that Yuto can’t miss his answering hardness, and some of the stiffness bleeds out of Yuto’s shoulders. The surprise on his face is even sort of cute, Yamada thinks.

“I like you,” Yamada tries explaining again. “I like kissing you, and I like touching you. You should like it too, okay? I mean, you do, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuto answers shyly, and he seems about to add something else, but Yamada kisses him again, impatient.

This time Yuto responds to the kiss, hesitant and unpracticed, but it’s something, and Yamada encourages him with soft noises and the stroke of his fingers over Yuto’s ribs. Yuto’s shyness is sweet, enticing, and Yamada rolls his hips without meaning too, making the pressure of Yuto’s mouth hiccup in surprise.

It breaks the kiss, and Yamada wonders if he’s scared Yuto off again, but then Yuto gives a tiny hiproll of his own, more of a nudge really, and when Yamada looks up at Yuto, he’s smiling shyly at Yamada, cheeks pink.

“Fuck, Yuto,” Yamada groans, heat washing through his veins, and he crushes their mouths back together, holding tight to Yuto’s waist to keep from doing something he’ll definitely regret later.

The door opens behind them, and despite the growl of annoyance Yamada gives as Yuto pulls away, deep inside he’s glad for the interruption because he isn’t sure he can be trusted to stop.

“It’s fine,” Ryutarou calls back to the others, head appearing around the door to check out the scene. “They aren’t doing it or anything.”

“Oi!” Yamada snaps, as Yuto splutters and turns bright red. “Of course we aren’t!” He shoves at Ryutarou’s shoulder as Ryutarou trots by. “And how do you know what ‘it’ is, anyway?”

“Please,” Ryutarou gives Yamada a condescending look over his shoulder. “Do you know how long I’ve been a jyannis?”

“How would two guys do ‘it’ anyways?” Yuto mumbles, and Yamada slaps a hand to his forehead.

Sometimes, Yamada really wonders if he wouldn’t be better off trying to seduce just about anybody else in JUMP.

A few weeks later, when Yuto is sleeping over at Yamada’s house, he knows the answer is yes for sure.

“What?” Yamada asks groggily when he’s woken up in the middle of the night. When he’d fallen asleep, he’d had his arm tucked around Yuto’s waist, but now Yuto is scrunched tightly against the wall, as far away from Yamada as he can get. Yamada blinks a few times at Yuto’s back in the darkness. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yuto says, but his voice is thick, and then he sniffles.

“Are you crying?” Yamada squints at Yuto in confusion. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“No,” Yuto answers, then, “Sort of,” and then he sniffles and says no again.

Yamada has no idea what the problem is, but he’s far too tired to care, and he reaches for Yuto’s shoulder, figuring that once they’re snuggled close again, Yuto will forget about whatever it is and let Yamada go back to sleep.

“Don’t,” Yuto protests, shrugging Yamada’s hand off, and Yamada frowns.

“What’s your problem?” Yamada asks, shifting close enough to wrap his arm back around Yuto’s waist, and he doesn’t understand what Yuto’s making such a fuss for until his fingers brush over the wet spot on Yuto’s pajama pants. “Oh,” he says. “That?”

Yuto just shrugs stiffly.

“You had a dream,” Yamada struggles to think, “about me?” He doesn’t get a response, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, it’s just a wet dream.”

“What?” Yuto asks after a beat.

“A wet dream,” Yamada repeats, too cranky from being woken up to remember that Yuto needs a light touch. “It’s totally normal! You’ve never had one before?”

“No, okay?!” Yuto exclaims, and he twists his head to glare at Yamada. “Sorry for being such a loser!”

Yamada doesn’t answer at first, startled by Yuto’s outburst, and trying to remember if he’s ever seen Yuto shout before. But then he discards the thought as unimportant, and moves to tug Yuto into a hug.

“Oh, leave me alone,” Yuto protests, voice shaking, but Yamada ignores him and slides closer when Yuto refuses to budge, since Yuto’s back is against the wall already. He wraps his arms around Yuto’s chest and squeezes until Yuto relaxes, if somewhat grumpily.

“You really don’t know anything,” Yamada asks affectionately, “do you?”

“I do so,” Yuto answers sulkily, voice muffled against Yamada’s T-shirt. “I know Kame-kun’s phone number and all of JUMP’s schedules for next week and the choreography to every Kinki Kids single.”

Yamada can’t help but laugh, even though it makes Yuto grumble some more, because that is very much Nakajima Yuto in a nutshell. He gets a hand in Yuto’s hair and pulls Yuto’s head back to kiss his cheek.

“It’s fine if you don’t know anything,” he says, and now that he’s thinking about it, the thought of anybody else explaining sex to his innocent little Yuu-chan sort of makes Yamada want to punch somebody in the face. “It just means I get to teach you myself.”

“Teach me what?” Yuto asks, clearing his throat to get rid of the last of the tantrum, and what’s underneath is the shyness and the curiosity that Yamada finds so alluring.

“You’ll see,” he murmurs, turning his head to kiss Yuto’s mouth instead. He traces Yuto’s lips with his tongue until Yuto parts them, coaxes Yuto with little nudges until Yuto is kissing back, unsure brushes of his tongue against Yamada’s. The sweetness of it makes heat sing in Yamada’s veins, and there won’t be any interruptions this time.

“What?” Yuto asks vaguely when Yamada pushes him onto his back, but he loses his voice when Yamada bends his head to scrape his teeth lightly over Yuto’s throat.

Yuto starts to protest when Yamada pushes Yuto’s pajama pants out of the way and wraps a hand around him, but Yamada shuts him up with another kiss, humming when he tightens his grip and Yuto clutches at his shoulders for support. Yuto’s skin is damp and hot, and Yamada muffles a groan against Yuto’s mouth when Yuto raises his hips into the touch.

He thinks about kissing Yuto the whole way through it, about tasting all Yuto’s shivers and protests, but in the end he pulls his mouth away because he wants to hear Yuto instead, wants to hear the sweet, low noises Yuto is trying desperately to keep from making.

It’s not long before Yuto’s grip on Yamada grows desperate, and he buries his face against Yamada’s chest as his whole body tightens, then goes slack. Yamada ignores his own pressing need in favor of gathering Yuto close and kissing him while he trembles and pants for air.

He can’t ignore it for very long, though, not with Yuto staring up at him with his heavy-lidded gaze and shy smile.

“Yuto,” Yamada says, shifting his hips and trying to figure out how he can ask without scaring Yuto off. “Please…”

“Oh,” Yuto’s eyes widen, and Yamada shivers at the way there’s a just a touch of understanding in the innocence now. “You want…can I?”

Yuto’s touch is as timid as his questions, which should be an unbearable tease but is honestly just hot, as is the way Yuto licks his lower lip in concentration as he adjusts his grip, and the way he keeps flicking glances at Yamada’s face to make sure he’s doing okay.

“Please,” Yamada begs, so close he’s shaking, fingers twisted in the sheets so that he won’t grab Yuto and give him a bunch of embarrassing bruises. “Please, just…just a little harder?”

“Hmm,” says Yuto thoughtfully, and Yamada whimpers. “Like this?”

His grips tightens, just enough, just perfect, and Yamada comes undone in a trembling, fumbling, glorious mess.

When he opens his eyes, Yuto’s sitting up next to him, holding his hand in the air and looking around, his uncertainty at what to do so adorable that it’s comic. Yamada laughs and tugs Yuto down against him, uses the sheet to clean both of them off.

“Um,” Yuto starts when they are settled back down together, Yamada curled in a warm line along Yuto’s back. Yamada makes an encouraging noise, eyes already closed. “So…was that what Ryutarou was talking about? It?”

“No.” Yamada smiles against the back of Yuto’s neck, smiles harder when Yuto shivers. “No, it wasn’t.”
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