Rating/Warnings: R for my total inability to not write an otp.
AN: the insolent kouhai, as usual, had a bunch of demands and a provocative picture, and, well, Kitatama is pretty damned hot, really.
Also, yeska_noka has a sequel here.
Something You Want
Kitayama might be small, but his hands are strong and warm. Tamamori thinks about that to himself after the game, how strong Kitayama’s fingers felt squeezing against his own, for the rest of the filming.
When they finally waved their goodbyes to the audience, Tamamori makes sure he heads off the same side as Kitayama, tracking the swish of his white scarves against his back amidst the crowd or juniors. He barely pays Miyata any mind, other than a little nudge of their shoulders together, when Miyata jogs up beside him and starts talking.
“Hey, so, for dinner I was thinking…” Miyata trails off when he realizes that Tamamori is focused on a goal ahead of them. Following Tamamori’s line of sight, Miyata squints for a second before he figures it out, then rolls his eyes a little. “Kitamitsu again?”
Tamamori hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but the quick glance he sneaks out of the corner of his eye shows that Miyata isn’t buying it. Tamamori grins sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders.
“You have a serious case of Leader Kink,” Miyata sighs, which makes Tamamori give a bark of laughter. “We’re supposed to go home together, remember?”
“And we will,” Tamamori promises, hooking his arm around Miyata’s and tugging him closer by their linked elbows, close enough to murmur in his ear. “Give me a half hour? You know I’ll still be up for anything you are later.”
“Promises, promises.” Miyata gives Tamamori’s arm a squeeze, then extricates himself from Tamamori’s grip. “I’m gonna get changed and get some food from the udon place around the corner. Come find me when you’re ready to go?”
“Of course. Miyacchi’s the best, ne.” Tamamori gives Miyata a last, heart-stopping smile, then picks up speed to catch up with Kitayama.
When he gets close enough, he grabs one of Kitayama’s dangling scarves and gives it a yank.
“Nika!” Kitayama snaps automatically, making Tamamori snicker, “what did I tell you about…oh,” Kitayama interrupts himself as he turns and sees who it is. “Not Nika.”
“Nope.” Tamamori gives Kitayama’s scarf another tug, and Kitayama raises an eyebrow.
“Something you want, Tama-chan?” he asks.
“Maaaybe,” Tamamori drawls, twining his hand more firmly in the scarf. He looks left and right, decides no one is really paying them any mind, and then gives Kitayama a test tug. “Got a couple minutes?”
“The funny thing is,” Kitayama says as he lets himself be tugged off to the side, “is that with you, I know that’s not hyperbole.”
Tamamori just laughs sweetly as he leads Kitayama behind a strange piece of set that’s been pushed off-stage, one large enough to hide them from view, although they’ll have to keep it quiet, since Tamamori can hear half a dozen conversations from the other side.
He doesn’t fool around, but pulls Kitayama closer and leans down to press their mouths together. He keeps pulling, backing up at the same time, until his back is against the wall and Kitayama’s weight is keeping him there. Kitayama may be short, but he’s solidly built and well-muscled from dance, and the feel of his body against Tamamori’s makes Tamamori shiver.
When Kitayama pulls back to look Tamamori over, they’re both breathing a little quicker.
“Miyata?” Kitayama asks. “I know I’ve asked you this before, but lately the two have you have seemed…”
“Incorrigible?” Tamamori offers, thinking with a touch of chagrin about how often they’ve been walked in on lately.
“Serious,” Kitayama finishes, and Tamamori chuckles.
“He knows it’s him I go home with.” Tamamori shrugs a shoulder. “Anyway, shouldn’t I ask you about Fujigaya?”
“500 yen says he’s behind the Jr. ni Q board with Koyama-senpai right now,” Kitayama says flatly.
“Double or nothing Nakamaru is there too,” Tamamori replies, before his laughter is muffled by Kitayama’s mouth.
They don’t bother with any more talking, both of them conscious that despite the relative privacy of their niche, there’s no telling when somebody else might stumble over them. Instead they focus on pushing enough clothing out of the way to get their hands on each other. It takes some doing, given their costumes, but they’ve both had practice. Tamamori whines into Kitayama’s mouth when Kitayama gets a good grip on him and strokes him rough and fast, but good, so good, as if he knows it’s his hands Tamamori’s been thinking about.
“Slow down,” Tamamori pulls his mouth away to warn. “Unless you don’t mind…”
“I’ve got places to be too, you know,” Kitayama murmurs back, and he doesn’t slow down at all, and Tamamori presses his forehead down against Kitayama’s shoulder and bites down hard on his lip to keep from crying out as he comes, the feeling of it burning quick and sharp like lightning up his spine.
“Oof,” Tamamori groans softly, slumping back against the wall, letting his eyes slip shut a moment as he shivers through an aftershock. “Maybe Miyacchi’s right about that Leader Kink.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” Kitayama says amiably. He flexes his hips into Tamamori’s slack grip as if to remind him they aren’t finished yet. “Speaking of that, I heard Senga walked in on something interesting the other day.”
“Figures he’d tell you,” Tamamori snorts. He opens his eyes just enough that Kitayama will see them glitter. “But if you’re interested, I could always show you.”
They get themselves turned around so that Kitayama is the one with his back against the wall, and Tamamori drops to his knees, thinking to himself that maybe he should just wear kneepads under his pants all the time. But he lets the thought go in favor of checking out Kitayama. He’s changed with Kitayama hundreds of times, even touched him before, but never gotten a good, long look, and certainly not from this close.
Kitayama’s cock isn’t without its charms, he finds himself thinking as he watches the way it slides through his fingers. Miyata’s bigger, but Kitayama is solid and heavy against his palm, skin flushed dark and stretched tight.
“You just gonna watch it?” Kitayama asks, but his breath catches when Tamamori squeezes his fingers tighter. “That’s hot and all, but since you’re down there…”
“Yes, yes,” Tamamori replies, amused. He leans forward and flicks his tongue against Kitayama’s tip for a taste, getting a strangled groan out of Kitayama. Humming low in his throat, Tamamori wraps his lips around Kitayama to swallow the first couple inches of his cock. He slides his hand down farther to squeeze the base of his cock while he works Kitayama deeper into his mouth.
Kitayama doesn’t get his hands into Tamamori’s hair like Miyata tends to do, and Tamamori finds he misses it, but on second thought, he remembers that he just came all over Kitayama’s hand and thinks that maybe he doesn’t mind so much. He pushes the whole thing out of his mind and concentrates on driving Kitayama out of his.
“Oi,” Kitayama gasps eventually, and Tamamori makes a quick decision to pull back, to go on stroking Kitayama and to watch his face as he spends himself into Tamamori’s hands.
“Turns out I wanted to watch after all,” Tamamori says, giving a last squeeze with his now-slick hand, and Kitayama laughs, voice low and thick and making the hairs on the back of Tamamori’s neck rise.
“There you are,” Miyata waves when Tamamori stumbles into the udon shop, coat bundled tightly around him and cheeks pink from the cold despite the walk only being a block and a half.
“Hey,” Tamamori comes over, trying not to eye Miyata’s mostly-finished soup with too much envy. “Sorry I’m late. Ready to go?”
“No rush. Want something to eat first?” Miyata asks, patting the seat next to him, and Tamamori falls in love with him all over again as he accepts and collapses gratefully into the seat.
The udon smells so good that Tamamori falls on it as soon as it arrives, heedless of burning his tongue or of the way the steam is making stray pieces of his hair curl against his cheek. It tastes even better, and Tamamori grins at Miyata between bites, who is simply sitting patiently, watching him eat.
“Ne,” Tamamori says when he’s eaten enough that he’s not starving and doesn’t mind getting a few words in between bites. “You really don’t mind?” Miyata shrugs, but Tamamori pokes him in the shin with his foot under the table. “No, really, tell me.”
“Okay, fine, maybe I don’t absolutely love the idea of other people with their hands on you,” Miyata admits, and Tamamori makes a noise of triumph through his full mouth. “Why, do you want me to be jealous? Because that seems a little self-defeating.”
“Hm,” Tamamori swallows, and pokes at Miyata’s foot again, “I guess I like hearing that Miyacchi wants me all to himself.”
“Tcht, hurry up and eat,” Miyata says, cheeks turning pink and looking anywhere but Tamamori’s face.
A comfortable silence falls until Tamamori’s finished eating, and he bundles himself back up as Miyata settles the bill. They head to the station together, walking close enough that their shoulders brush.
“So, why don’t you tell me not to?” Tamamori asks as they’re standing on the platform. It’s gotten late, and there aren’t many people around.
Miyata shoves his hands a little deeper into his pockets and looks out over the tracks. “Would it make a difference?”
“Yeah.” Tamamori brushes his shoulder against Miyata’s more purposefully. “If Miyacchi asked me, it would be different.”
“That’s why I don’t have to, then.” Miyata tries to hold back his smile, but can’t quite manage it, and Tamamori comes very close to breaking his rule about public places.
He’s saved from himself by the arrival of their train.
“Besides,” Miyata continues once they’re settled in seats, “Kisumai is one of those units, aren’t we?”
“I guess we are, these days,” Tamamori laughs quietly. “It’s a good sign, isn’t it? Like…”
“Don’t you dare say KAT-TUN,” Miyata interrupts. He wrinkles his nose. “We’re...not like that.”
“You do like to tie me up~,” Tamamori reminds, making Miyata shoot him a dirty look and cross his legs.
“Why do you like doing that so much?” Miyata hisses, making Tamamori snicker. “Do you have some sort of train fetish? Anyway, all I’m saying is, it’s Kisumai, so it can’t be helped. But,” Miyata leans closer to murmur into Tamamori’s ear, “once we’re alone you’re going to tell me every. Single. Detail.”
This time it’s Tamamori who crosses his legs with a scowl, and Miyata just smiles smugly, no doubt because for once he’s not the only one in for an uncomfortable train ride.
(you can read the sequel here)