Summary: Fujigaya just needs a quiet place to spend the night, never mind those other needs.
AN: Is anybody else totally convinced that Fujigaya Ryosuke must be like 150% hetersexual pimp in order to counteract his two older brothers? Because I really am.
Sometimes You Get What You Need
“Take me home with you,” Fujigaya says. His voice is grumpy and his arms are folded tight across his chest, eyes fixed somewhere off to Kitayama’s left.
Kitayama reaches up and uses one finger to push Fujigaya’s chin to the right until they’re looking at each other’s faces properly. “Ask nicely.”
Fujigaya’s mouth twitches before he smooths out his expression with obvious effort. “Let me come home with you, please.”
“Okay,” Kitayama agrees, easy as that, and this time Fujigaya doesn’t stop the frown his mouth bunches up into.
“You don’t even want to know why?” he asks.
“You’ll tell me.” Kitayama shrugs. “Half a train ride and you’ll be telling me your life’s story, never mind that I’ve been present for nearly half of it.”
Fujigaya looks like he has something to say about that but bites down on it, and that perks Kitayama’s interest a little more. Whatever Fujigaya wants to come over for, it’s serious enough that he’s not willing to risk changing Kitayama’s mind back with bickering.
He wasn’t kidding about the train ride, though. Three stops and Fujigaya turns to launch right into his story.
“The thing is--” Fujigaya starts, and Kitayama interrupts by laughing at him.
“Sorry.” Kitayama waves it off, still chuckling, waves for Fujigaya to go on. “It’s just that you plus the train is like my mom with half a six pack in her.”
Fujigaya favors Kitayama with a warning look. “Ryosuke has a new girlfriend.”
“Yeah?” Kitayama’s grin doesn’t dim. “No thanks to any examples from his big brothers, I’m sure. Tell him good job from me.”
“She likes it a little wild,” Fujigaya continues to explain, mouth pinching. “I just need one night where his headboard isn’t banging against my wall all night long, okay? Please,” he adds without Kitayama prompting him again.
Kitayama takes another look at Fujigaya, noticing the dark rings under his eyes and the exhausted set of his shoulders. When he looks a little closer, though, he also notices how tense Fujigaya is all over, the way the rocking of the train seems to be winding Fujigaya up tighter and tighter.
By the time they stumble into Kitayama’s apartment, Fujigaya has actually talked himself out for the moment and they come inside in companionable silence. Fujigaya kicks off his boots and flops on Kitayama’s couch with a grunt of relief.
“Here’s fine,” he says, yawning. “God, anywhere I don’t have to listen to my baby brother’s name being moaned by some wannabe AV actress--” He cuts off when Kitayama stops in front of him, looking down at him with amusement. “What?”
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Kitayama asks.
“A drink might be nice, I guess,” Fujigaya says, one eyebrow raised.
Kitayama leans in to put a hand on the back of the couch on either side of Fujigaya’s shoulders, and there’s no mistaking the way Fujigaya’s breath hitches. He presses their mouths together, and even just that has Fujigaya practically vibrating under him, hands curling into fists against the couch cushion.
Kitayama breaks the kiss to look Fujigaya over slowly. “Are you sure listening to all that sex hasn’t maybe given you one other teeny problem?”
“You’ve seen it enough to know it’s not teeny,” Fujigaya snaps back. He starts to say something else, but Kitayama draws one finger up the inside of Fujigaya’s arm and even that light touch has him shivering, a flush working its way over Fujigaya’s exhaustion-pale skin.
“Damn, you want it bad,” Kitayama says, more than familiar enough with Fujigaya’s moods to know it’s true. “I don’t mind helping you out. Tell me what you want, Taisuke. How long’s it been?”
“Way too long,” Fujigaya groans softly as Kitayama’s fingers drag over his shoulder and across the open V of his T-shirt, across Fujigaya’s collarbones. “Shit, quit it, I can’t think.” Fujigaya slaps Kitayama’s hand away and takes a few shaky breaths. “Let me ride you.”
“Not Ryosuke you were jealous of so much?” Kitayama can’t keep from nettling, and the glare Fujigaya gives him makes his own blood race.
“Just shut the fuck up.” Fujigaya pushes Kitayama back so he can stand up, catching Kitayama’s wrist on the way by to drag him towards Kitayama’s bedroom. “Get your pants open and keep your mouth shut.”
Kitayama can certainly roll with that, especially when Fujigaya’s plans involve him lying flat on his back for the duration. A little bit of Fujigaya’s attitude is well worth that, and honestly Kitayama can’t even blame him. He’d certainly never had much patience for his mother’s boyfriends when she shared a wall with him.
A decade of costume changes has them naked two seconds after they get into Kitayama’s bedroom, and Kitayama sprawls out across his bed without preamble, flat on his back. By the time Fujigaya looks over, Kitayama’s already got a hand around his cock and is stroking himself lazily.
“You’re shameless, you know that?” Fujigaya says, conveniently leaving out that that’s the whole reason he’s even over here in the first place. “At least I have a good excuse.”
“Like desperate for some dick is so much better,” Kitayama just laughs at him. “And I know you really must be, or you wouldn’t have come to me first. Even if you get yourself off, it doesn’t work, right? It doesn’t make that throbbing go away, where all you want is something big and hard, so deep inside of you...”
“Fuck, will you shut up,” Fujigaya orders, hands actually shaking before he climbs onto Kitayama’s bed and clutches at two fistfuls of Kitayama’s comforter to make them stop. “Can you quit running your mouth for two seconds?”
He leans down to crush their mouths together before Kitayama can respond with a comment about how ironic that request is, and if Fujigaya looked a little needy outwardly, his kiss makes it breathtakingly obvious how desperate for it he really is. He’s sweeping his tongue into Kitayama’s mouth before Kitayama can do so much as fix the angle of their necks, pressing as close to Kitayama as he can and already hard as a rock where his cock is digging into Kitayama’s stomach, the tip wet.
It’s messy and hot, but Kitayama doesn’t exactly care for the way it’s a little panicky too, Fujigaya clearly having worked himself up into too much of a state to hardly enjoy it. Moron for waiting so long, Kitayama thinks, wondering why Fujigaya can’t just deal with his issues like a normal person instead of waiting until even fucking is some kind of emergency drill.
“Easy, easy,” Kitayama mutters against Fujigaya’s mouth, getting both hands into Fujigaya’s hair to pull him back far enough to look each other. “I’m gonna fuck you, okay? I swear. I won’t change my mind, so take a deep breath and relax before you come all over my stomach, damn.”
Fujigaya struggles a second, but Kitayama’s grip doesn’t falter, and finally Fujigaya sucks in a deep breath as ordered and lets it out slowly through his nose.
“Okay,” he says, looking sheepish under the lust. “I’m okay. Just please fucking do something already.”
“Sit up,” Kitayama orders, reaching out to the side to dig out lube and some condoms from his bedside table, and Fujigaya rolls his eyes a little at how Kitayama doesn’t even have to look, but does as he’s told. “Move up a little so I can reach.”
Once Kitayama takes charge, Fujigaya becomes as pliable as he ever is since he’s getting what he wants. He moves up to where Kitayama is urging him, straddling Kitayama’s waist and sitting up on his knees so Kitayama has room to get fingers between his legs. The moment Kitayama’s slick finger touches his rim, Fujigaya sinks down onto it with a groan that’s half relief and half frustration.
“Not so fast,” Kitayama warns, and Fujigaya stills with a choked-off whine, lets Kitayama push the rest of the way in more slowly. “There you go, relax for me.”
Fujigaya’s elusive cooperative side is so cute, Kitayama’s sorry he only gets to see it in situations like this. But then again, he thinks smugly, not like Fujigaya’s fans ever get to see it.
“What are you smirking about?” Fujigaya asks, then blows his bangs out of his face in annoyance when Kitayama just grins harder. “Second finger, please? You don’t even understand, this is killing me.”
“Tell your ass about it,” Kitayama says because it isn’t like he can force Fujigaya’s body to let him in faster. He starts working a second finger in, though, just because Fujigaya really does sound miserable and it’s not Kitayama’s problem if he hates his life during skating practice tomorrow.
Another couple minutes and Kitayama is getting impatient himself because it looks so damn good, the way his fingers are sliding in and out of Fujigaya, and the way his body clenches around them feels even better, hot and tight. Fujigaya has his eyes closed like he concentrating on nothing but getting Kitayama’s fingers in deeper, rolling his hips down against Kitayama’s hand and biting down on his lower lip.
“Good enough, right?” Kitayama asks, tugging his fingers free before he even hears the answer, but it doesn’t matter because Fujigaya can’t agree fast enough. He’s panting like Kitayama is already fucking him, pink the whole way down his chest and little whorls of hair sweat-stuck to his forehead and cheeks. Fujigaya brushes them back impatiently, rocking down a little onto nothing, like he can’t stop the motion of his body now that he’s started.
“Hurry,” he pleads. “Fuck, just come on already.” When Kitayama can’t get the condom open quick enough with one lube-slick hand, Fujigaya reaches down to do it himself. He rolls the condom down Kitayama’s cock and doesn’t even let go before he’s sinking down onto it, moaning long and low.
“Taisuke,” Kitayama groans himself, struggling not to snap his hips up before Fujigaya is ready. He can feel Fujigaya trembling, under his hands and around his cock. Fujigaya’s thighs give out and he falls the rest of the way, both of them grunting as he lands heavily on Kitayama, Kitayama’s cock buried balls-deep inside of him. “Shit, you all right?”
“Yeah,” Fujigaya pants, eyes squeezed shut and obviously lying.
“Take your time,” Kitayama says, trying to content himself with the sight of Fujigaya mussed and pink-cheeked and not to focus on how badly he wants to pound Fujigaya until he screams. “This what you wanted?”
“Not quite yet.” Fujigaya peels his eyes open to look down at Kitayama, smile wry. “A lot closer than I managed myself, though.” He pushes himself up cautiously, then back down. “Okay, move.”
“No way.” Kitayama stretches, feigning nonchalance. “You said you were gonna ride. Let’s see it, cowboy.”
“Seriously, fuck you,” Fujigaya huffs, but he starts moving anyway, a slow roll of his hips from back to front that is nothing like the speed that Kitayama wants but looks fucking amazing. “Why can’t one of the others have a dick like this? I could make just about any of them do what I want more easily than trying to get your fat ass moving.”
“Backhanded compliments are still compliments.” Kitayama grins insufferably, kneading at Fujigaya’s thighs a little to mask how badly he wants to grab Fujigaya’s ass and force him up and down so much faster. “I thought you said your brother’s girl was wild? You’re riding me like I’m a kiddie carousel. Tell me when you’re ready for the real thing.”
“Next time I’m going to stick the real thing right in your mouth if you don’t shut it,” Fujigaya snaps, but he does speed up, much closer to his stage dancing. He wraps one hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly to keep himself from bouncing around as he fucks himself down onto Kitayama faster. The other hand he drags up his chest and over his throat like he really is in some AV version of their debut PV, and Kitayama would laugh if he weren’t breathless from Fujigaya’s body squeezing around him so tightly.
Despite his big talk of doing no work, Kitayama’s patience ends suddenly. He grabs Fujigaya’s ass like he’s been wanting to, making Fujigaya squeak, and plants his heels to thrust up into Fujigaya as deeply as he can. Fujigaya scrabbles for balance before he grabs Kitayama’s shoulders, then gives up control without any further fight, already moaning loudly.
“There?” Kitayama asks when Fujigaya’s moans rise in pitch suddenly, and Fujigaya hardly has to answer, his body telling Kitayama exactly what he needs to know. He focuses on pounding that spot over and over, holding Fujigaya in place to make sure all his squirming doesn’t mess up Kitayama’s perfect angle.
Fujigaya isn’t fisting himself so much as letting Kitayama fuck him up into his own fist, but with Kitayama giving it to him exactly where he needs it, it’s not long before Fujigaya shudders and comes over his fist and Kitayama’s stomach. He makes quite a mess because of all the bouncing, but Kitayama hardly cares about it, or about anything besides chasing his own release.
“Mitsu,” Fujigaya warns, fingers digging into Kitayama’s shoulders and arms shaking, but Kitayama ignores him, even when Fujigaya starts to whine from overstimulation. Kitayama doesn’t let up even a little, still pulling Fujigaya down onto his cock in the fast, hard rhythm he prefers, drinking in all of Fujigaya’s noises and aftershocks greedily. When Fujigaya starts to struggle it only makes it feel better as Fujigaya shifts and twitches around him.
Finally Kitayama can’t hold it off any longer, his orgasm sending heat rushing through his veins and leaving his skin tingling in its wake. When his vision clears, he grins stupidly up at Fujigaya, who is scowling down at him.
“Mmm. Better?” he asks.
“Let go of me, you son of a bitch,” Fujigaya growls back, voice hoarse. “You know I can’t even bitch about this to the others or I’ll spend the rest of the day walking in on kouhai trying to fuck you.”
“Probably couldn’t fuck them all in a day,” Kitayama drawls, peeling his hands away. “At least not a day with skating practice.” He gives Fujigaya’s ass a slap before he pulls away entirely, making Fujigaya yelp and call him a few more names.
His glare loses what little power it had when Fujigaya tries to push himself off of Kitayama and his legs give out, dumping him into an ungainly heap next to Kitayama.
“Seriously, I hate you so fucking much,” Fujigaya mumbles, face buried in Kitayama’s disheveled blankets.
“That’s okay.” Kitayama lets one hand flop over to pat Fujigaya’s back, yawning. “You can hate me all you want so long as you ride me like your little brother’s AV girlfriend. When’s he having her over again?”
Fujigaya says some other shit, but Kitayama’s eyes are already closing, body pleasantly heavy and exhausted. Fujigaya may be a lot of work, but keeping him from getting too wound up is in his own best interests after all, so Kitayama can’t say he minds all that much. Plus, after Fujigaya’s bitching quiets to a low white noise and he’s done yanking the blankets around to his liking, he does make a decent enough bedwarmer. Maybe in the morning, Kitayama will ask Senga to tell Ryosuke that he should show his lady friend a good time more often.
Or maybe he’ll just snap a picture of Fujigaya’s cute, bare ass and post it on his Jweb.
“What are you smirking about?” Fujigaya asks suspiciously, and Kitayama only gives him a loud, fake snore in response.