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

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Fic, JE, Getting To The Good Stuff

Title: Getting To The Good Stuff [Yabu/Shoon]
Rating/Warnings: R for...well, the good stuff.
Summary: Yabu and Shoon actually manage some time to themselves.
AN: Happy Birthday, puppeteer8! Many happy returns, and hopefully it'll be a year of all good Shoon news for both of us. Also, just to clarify: the getting to b thing in Japan is like the base system in the US, like "I got to third base with her," etc. Although, just like the base system, exactly what A, B, C, or any other letters actually are is sort of up in the air.


Getting To The Good Stuff

“So of course the hamster gets loose then,” Yabu waves his hand lazily in the air, “and Yamada’s all like ‘you know I think that vent goes to the incinerator’ but that blew up in his face, because it was Yuto who started to cry and Ryutarou just kicked him in the shin…”

Shoon is laughing so hard that his cheeks are pink and his eyes are scrunched up, and Yabu joins in with him, the other people in the café glancing over at their table and clearly wondering what all the ruckus is about.

“The hamster was okay, right?” Shoon wants to know when he can breathe again, and Yabu assures him that the only one in any sort of danger was Yamada for being an ass.

“But Yuto will forgive him, I’m sure,” Yabu shrugs. “It wouldn’t be Hey! Say! if half of us didn’t walk in on them daily.”

“Nothing too scandalous, I hope.” Shoon picks up his teacup and gives Yabu a knowing smirk over the lip of it. His eyes are wide and dark, and Yabu’s heart skips a beat or two. “Although scandal does seem to be going around in the debuted crowd, these days.”

“Don’t remind me,” Yabu groans, wrinkling his nose. “If I have to hear one more time about Ohno-senpai’s virtue, I’m going to make Chinen eat his precious phone card.” He pauses, waiting for Shoon to finish chuckling, before he adds, “But no, not very. I’m not sure if Yuto knows that B exists, much less how to get there.”

“At his age, you were so small you would have had to hitch a ride to get to B,” Shoon teases. “And as I recall, you thought B was holding hands on the train anyway.”

“And you thought B was giving Jin-senpai a blowjob behind the costume rack,” Yabu retorts, giving Shoon a look that makes Shoon squirm in his chair a little. “Besides, B is for losers. I just skipped right to the good stuff.”

“There was good stuff?” Shoon tilts his head. “Just who’ve you been doing the good stuff with?”

Yabu kicks at Shoon’s foot under the table and grumbles that it’s been nobody, lately. They stare at each other across the tiny café table for a long moment, until they both have to look away with cheeks a touch flushed.

“Come over,” Yabu says, voice pitched low, and he slides his foot more purposely along Shoon’s.

“Are you promising me good stuff?” Shoon wants to know, but they’re already both standing up. “Won’t your family be home?”

“Mom’s taking us to the movies tonight,” Yabu shrugs, and this time he doesn’t look away when Shoon catches his eye, doesn’t bother to hide his stare until Shoon reaches up to tug at his forelock. “But I’ll tell them I’m too tired and you’re helping me with university stuff.”

The train is busy for no particular reason that Yabu can see, but even though it’s hot and sticky in the July Tokyo heat, he doesn’t mind since it means he can lean close to Shoon without it looking strange. He waits a few minutes before sliding his hand into Shoon’s where the press of their bodies will hide it.

“Loser,” Shoon murmurs, distracted by the mail he’s sending his mother on his phone one-handed, but he gives Yabu’s hand a squeeze. Yabu just files that away for later retribution and pretends to be reading Shoon’s message so that he can tuck his chin into Shoon’s shoulder.

Yabu’s mother fusses over both of them for a few minutes when they get to Yabu’s house, Shoon because she doesn’t get to very often these days, and Yabu because the pathetic and overworked face he is making isn’t entirely a fraud. Yabu’s patience is just starting to fray when his brother and sister show up to push their mother out the door.

On the way out, his brother gives them a last look over his shoulder that says Yabu owes him one, clearly aware of exactly what’s going on. Shoon’s blush is so cute that the door is barely shut before Yabu has him up against the wall, their mouths pressed together.

Shoon hums a little, trying to say something, but Yabu just kisses him harder, until Shoon’s hands come up to knot in Yabu’s hair. Yabu’s neck is starting to pull from the height difference, but he ignores it and slides his knee between Shoon’s so that he can roll their hips tight together. Shoon tears his mouth away to pant for air, and Yabu feels Shoon’s fingers slide from his hair to twist in his shirt instead, feels the tremble of Shoon’s body against his.

“My room,” Yabu orders, grabbing Shoon’s hand and dragging him along without waiting for a reply. “Now.”

He pushes Shoon into his room and kicks some laundry aside to shove the door shut. When he turns around, he freezes at the sight of Shoon stripping off his shirt, revealing pale skin and muscle in a smooth pull. Yabu’s breath catches, and Shoon looks up at the sound.

Yabu expects Shoon to blush or protest, Shoon not generally being much of an exhibitionist. He is not expecting Shoon to give a wicked grin that makes Yabu’s stomach flip over, and then to run a hand slowly down his stomach to pause right above the button to his jeans.

“Any time you want to catch up,” Shoon says, running his thumb over the curve of the button, and half of Yabu’s clothes are on the floor before Shoon even finishes laughing.

Yabu tumbles both of them onto his bed, groaning at the slide of Shoon’s bare chest along his own, and he captures Shoon’s mouth again as he nudges them over until they aren’t hanging precariously off the edge of the bed anymore. Shoon is fumbling with the catch of Yabu’s jeans, but Yabu can’t be bothered to return the favor, too occupied with the heat of Shoon’s back under his palms and the way Shoon whines when he skims fingers underneath Shoon’s waistband.

Eventually Shoon prevails, and shoves everything out of the way enough to wrap a hand around Yabu. Yabu curses and reaches for Shoon’s jeans again, But Shoon just smiles sweetly and strokes hard enough to rob Yabu of his motor control. Yabu tries to fight, but his movement is restricted by his pants still tangled around his thighs, and he can’t keep his eyes from falling shut any more than he can keep his hips from rising into Shoon’s touch.

The touch stops as quickly as it started, and Yabu opens his eyes to find Shoon leaning over him, watching. “I want you,” he says, the words pitched so there’s no confusion about what he means, and then he kisses Yabu before Yabu can argue about it.

Somehow the rest of their clothes come off and Yabu digs some things they don’t use very often out of a drawer, and then Shoon is hot and tight around Yabu’s fingers, rocking into the touch and gripping Yabu’s shoulders tightly.

“Come on, please,” Shoon begs, breathless and dark-eyed, and Yabu never could refuse anything Shoon asked him for, certainly not this sort of Shoon, desperate and beautiful and spread across Yabu’s bed.

Slipping inside of Shoon feels so good it almost stops Yabu’s heart, and that’s the other reason they don’t do it very often, aside from not having the time or a place to do it: because when he has Shoon like this, it’s so hard to let go afterwards, so much harder to pretend that this isn’t all he wants to do every day, every waking moment.

But they’re both here now, so Yabu pushes thoughts of later aside and concentrates instead on the way Shoon is wrapping arms around his neck and pushing against him, murmuring his name in a desperate, heated chant. Yabu moves with him, kissing his forehead, nose, hair, any part of Shoon he can reach. When Shoon lets go of Yabu with one hand to reach between them, Yabu wishes he could help out more, but he’s using both hands to brace himself above Shoon.

He knows it would be easier if they changed positions, but he likes this one the best, likes to see Shoon’s face as Shoon throws his head back and tells Yabu how good it feels, how good he feels. Shoon doesn’t seem to mind, anyway, and Yabu certainly isn’t stopping, too close to think about anything except holding on until he feels the telltale clench of Shoon around him, hears the breathless, choked-off wail Shoon gives against Yabu’s throat.

“We don’t do that very often,” Shoon comments when they are curled up in a lazy pile afterwards, reading Yabu’s mind in that off-hand way he does sometimes.

Yabu shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t usually have enough time.”

“Much space either,” Shoon agrees, giving Yabu a teasing shove to demonstrate the smallness of Yabu’s bed. He grins wickedly at Yabu’s glare as he steadies himself, and Yabu decides that now is as good a time as any to bring up something else he’s been thinking about.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a king-sized bed,” he says airily, and Shoon bursts out laughing.

“Have you been thinking about how a king-sized bed would magically fit into your bedroom?” Shoon asks.

“It won’t,” Yabu says, and takes a deep breath. “So I’ve been thinking about getting my own apartment to put it in.”

“Yabu!” Shoon sits up to examine his face. “Are you serious?”

“Rent’s awfully expensive though,” Yabu continues, struggling to keep his voice casual. “So I’ll need a roommate too. And there’ll probably only be room for one bed if it’s a king-size. Know anybody who wouldn’t mind sleeping with me on a regular basis?”

Surprise, realization, and excitement all kaleidoscope over Shoon’s face before he schools it back into a cool expression to play along. “I doubt it. Hikaru says you snore like a drunken lord these days.”

“Drat.” Yabu swallows the fierce pounding of his heart to keep the game going. “I suppose I could also mention that I intend to have an entire cupboard filled with nothing but the finest teas…”

Shoon’s coolness dissolves as he can’t hold back his laughter. “Yabu Kota, are you trying to seduce me with fancy teas?”

“Is it working?” Yabu asks, making a plaintive face, and Shoon punches him in the shoulder.

“Of course it’s working, you idiot,” he answers, leaning down to kiss Yabu’s shoulder and then his mouth, and Yabu yanks Shoon down, tight against him, and kisses him fiercely back, until they’re both out of breath.

“You really want to?” Yabu asks, all teasing aside, watching Shoon’s face closely.

“Yeah,” Shoon says, grinning.

“I really do snore,” Yabu warns, grinning back like an idiot.

“I wouldn’t know,” Shoon shrugs, eyes dark with happiness, and Yabu squeezes him hard enough to make him grunt, “but I’m hoping to soon.”
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