Kis-My-Ft2 - "Disco Stick", Nikaido/Senga
Disco Stick
JE - Kis-My-Ft2 (mentions of A.B.C.-Z and Butoukan)
Nikaido Takashi/Senga Kento, R, 1310 words, unbeta'd.
Warning for slightly drunk dance floor handjobs and possessive Nika. ♥ PRETEND THIS IS LIKE A YEAR IN THE FUTURE AND SENGA CAN DRINK OKAY.
This all started out with me wanting to write something for the hatachi challenge over at je100 but not having any ideas, and then I saw this picture and mentioned to Gin how it looked more like a gay bar than usual and things sort of got out of hand. I didn't have one specific song in mind when I wrote this, but it was honestly half KAT-TUN's new single and half Lady GaGa, so if you want to go listen to "THE D-MOTION" while you read that should probably give you a good idea. FIRST TIME WRITING 2000 PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. ;o;
It's one thing for Senga to be dancing with Miyata, or Yokoo, or even Tsukada. Even Yara, who had gotten a little grabby before Yamamoto got that possessive look on his face and dragged Yara away for a dance of his own. It made Nikaido's heart tighten just slightly, but he kept watching, drinking whatever it was Kawai had set down in front of him and waiting patiently for Senga to ask him to dance.
That's one thing. It's something else entirely for Senga to be dancing with some random stranger; something else entirely for some club girl he only met eight minutes ago - not that Nikaido's counting - to be pressed up close against him, running her hands along Senga's arms, arms that have pushed Nikaido against countless hotel room mattresses and pulled him into warm, gentle embraces more times than he can remember. The girl leans up to whisper-shout something into Senga's ear, her fingers brushing his hair aside, and Senga laughs.
Nikaido growls low in his throat.
Fujigaya quirks an eyebrow at him. "What's your problem?"
Nikaido doesn't answer. Instead, he thunks his glass down on the table and stands up, shoving his way through the shifting, roiling creature that is the crowd on the dance floor to where the girl has her fingers hooked in Senga's belt loops.
Senga blinks at him for a moment, looking puzzled, then breaks into a grin. "Nika!"
"Will you excuse us for a minute?" Nikaido says curtly, throwing the girl a cold glance and feeling slightly gratified at her irritated expression. He grabs Senga's wrist and pulls him toward the back of the room and a pocket of mild quiet near the bathrooms.
"Nika, hang on," Senga protests, just before Nikaido backs him up against the wall.
"Who was that?" Nikaido asks. His tone is level, but the hurt he can tell is flashing in his eyes would give him away if Senga was sober enough to pick up on it.
Senga is not, in fact, sober enough to pick up on it. "Dunno. She didn't tell me," he says vaguely, the words only a little slurred. "I think. Maybe she did, 's loud in here." He suddenly seems to notice Nikaido's less-than-pleased expression. "'S wrong, Nika?"
Nikaido gives his best friend a sharp look. "You don't even know-" he starts, then hisses in frustration, resisting the urge to punch the wall right by Senga's stupid fluffy head. "Forget it."
Senga giggles. "Jealous~," he sings, taking Nikaido's hand and spinning him around more than a little drunkenly. "Ne, Nika, dance with me!"
Before Nikaido can voice a protest, Senga tugs him back into the crowd with him. Caught off guard - and not entirely sober himself - Nikaido stumbles, but Senga catches him, still retaining some of that dancer's grace even after all the drinks the rest of Ebikisu bought him. Senga is pressed tight against him, and Nikaido can feel the bassline of the music like a heartbeat, reverberating through both of their bodies. Senga's cheeks are flushed, his eyes hazy with heat and alcohol as he slowly rolls his hips against Nikaido's.
"Takashi," Senga breathes, his cock starting to harden against Nikaido's thigh.
That's all it takes for Nikaido to snap and catch him in a fierce kiss. Senga tastes like one of Goseki's stupid girly pink umbrella drinks, and Nikaido growls against his mouth, sinking his teeth into Senga's bottom lip and reveling in the answering moan.
Senga's hands slip down from Nikaido's waist to settle on his ass, pulling Nikaido even closer like he wants to melt into him and grinding. Nikaido can't hear the little noise he makes in the back of his throat over the music, but he's pretty sure it was a whimper, because he's hard almost instantly. Which isn't really surprising, considering how Senga always seems to have that effect on him, especially when he's gasping Nikaido's name between kisses.
Nikaido frees one of his hands from where it's tangled in Senga's already ridiculous hair and moves it down to slide between Senga's legs. While he will readily admit that Senga's impossibly tight black jeans look fucking fantastic on him, they're a bitch and a half to get into. Nikaido finally manages to work the zipper open and shove his hand into Senga's boxers to wrap around his cock. It's an extremely awkward angle, but Senga doesn't seem to care, shamelessly pushing against Nikaido's fingers in search of more friction.
Nothing else seems to matter but the moment, not the music or the crowd or the potential scandals. Their kisses are beginning to turn messy and off-target, but neither Nikaido nor Senga really gives a damn as they rock helplessly against each other. Senga is making no attempt to muffle the sounds escaping his throat, and for what seems like the millionth time, Nikaido is struck by just how gorgeous his boyfriend is, what few inhibitions he had in the first place completely erased by Nikaido or alcohol or most likely a little of both.
And then he remembers how they ended up here in the first place, and Nikaido decides that no matter how good Senga looks like this, easy and pliant and warm, it's not worth it if he's just going to waste all that ridiculous hotness on people who aren't Nikaido. The thought makes him grip Senga a little tighter, jerk his hand a little rougher. Senga digs his fingers into Nikaido's shoulders, his moans wanton and unrestrained as he bucks into Nikaido's hold.
Nikaido instantly recognizes the way Senga's movements suddenly get frantic. "Now," he hisses, "come on," and Senga does, crying out, the sound swallowed by the throb of the music as he collapses against Nikaido, shivering and breathing hard.
"I just made you come," Nikaido says, and his breath is a harsh whisper against Senga's ear that only makes Senga shudder more intensely against him. "In the middle of a club. On the fucking dance floor."
"Nika," Senga starts to say, but Nikaido nips his earlobe and he shuts up.
"And you're going to remember that it was me who got you off, Ken-chan," Nikaido continues, "because now I'm taking you home and I'm going to fuck you until you scream."
Senga moans again in a tone that indicates he entirely approves of this plan, and Nikaido grabs his hand and tows him toward the door. He feels Senga immediately lace their fingers together, squeezing tight, and it could be just so they don't get separated in the crowd, but it doesn't stop the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Nikaido spots a familiar pair of figures near the edge of the floor. Tamamori and Miyata look just as caught up in each other as ever, and Nikaido has to admit it's a little bit beautiful, even if Tamamori only gets more and more clumsy the drunker he is. Nikaido catches Miyata's attention and nods at the door to let him know that they're leaving, and Miyata gives him an all-knowing grin that makes Nikaido roll his eyes.
The night air is more than a little cold compared to the heat of the crowded club, and it seems to help Senga sober up at least slightly as they make their way to the nearby train station in silence.
They've been waiting on the nearly empty platform for a few minutes when, entirely unprompted, Senga says, "You're really hot when you get jealous, y'know."
Nikaido's thankful that his jacket covers the front of his jeans. "Doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to make me jealous," he says, keeping his voice even.
"Sorry I'm..." Senga trails off with an apologetic shrug.
"Kind of a slut?" Nikaido finishes, acidly.
Senga nods, and Nikaido lets him wrap his arms tighter around Nikaido's waist so they're leaning against each other, two halves as close to being a whole as they can get.
"Mine," Nikaido mumbles against Senga's shoulder.
Senga kisses his temple and promises, "Yours."
JE - Kis-My-Ft2 (mentions of A.B.C.-Z and Butoukan)
Nikaido Takashi/Senga Kento, R, 1310 words, unbeta'd.
Warning for slightly drunk dance floor handjobs and possessive Nika. ♥ PRETEND THIS IS LIKE A YEAR IN THE FUTURE AND SENGA CAN DRINK OKAY.
This all started out with me wanting to write something for the hatachi challenge over at je100 but not having any ideas, and then I saw this picture and mentioned to Gin how it looked more like a gay bar than usual and things sort of got out of hand. I didn't have one specific song in mind when I wrote this, but it was honestly half KAT-TUN's new single and half Lady GaGa, so if you want to go listen to "THE D-MOTION" while you read that should probably give you a good idea. FIRST TIME WRITING 2000 PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. ;o;
It's one thing for Senga to be dancing with Miyata, or Yokoo, or even Tsukada. Even Yara, who had gotten a little grabby before Yamamoto got that possessive look on his face and dragged Yara away for a dance of his own. It made Nikaido's heart tighten just slightly, but he kept watching, drinking whatever it was Kawai had set down in front of him and waiting patiently for Senga to ask him to dance.
That's one thing. It's something else entirely for Senga to be dancing with some random stranger; something else entirely for some club girl he only met eight minutes ago - not that Nikaido's counting - to be pressed up close against him, running her hands along Senga's arms, arms that have pushed Nikaido against countless hotel room mattresses and pulled him into warm, gentle embraces more times than he can remember. The girl leans up to whisper-shout something into Senga's ear, her fingers brushing his hair aside, and Senga laughs.
Nikaido growls low in his throat.
Fujigaya quirks an eyebrow at him. "What's your problem?"
Nikaido doesn't answer. Instead, he thunks his glass down on the table and stands up, shoving his way through the shifting, roiling creature that is the crowd on the dance floor to where the girl has her fingers hooked in Senga's belt loops.
Senga blinks at him for a moment, looking puzzled, then breaks into a grin. "Nika!"
"Will you excuse us for a minute?" Nikaido says curtly, throwing the girl a cold glance and feeling slightly gratified at her irritated expression. He grabs Senga's wrist and pulls him toward the back of the room and a pocket of mild quiet near the bathrooms.
"Nika, hang on," Senga protests, just before Nikaido backs him up against the wall.
"Who was that?" Nikaido asks. His tone is level, but the hurt he can tell is flashing in his eyes would give him away if Senga was sober enough to pick up on it.
Senga is not, in fact, sober enough to pick up on it. "Dunno. She didn't tell me," he says vaguely, the words only a little slurred. "I think. Maybe she did, 's loud in here." He suddenly seems to notice Nikaido's less-than-pleased expression. "'S wrong, Nika?"
Nikaido gives his best friend a sharp look. "You don't even know-" he starts, then hisses in frustration, resisting the urge to punch the wall right by Senga's stupid fluffy head. "Forget it."
Senga giggles. "Jealous~," he sings, taking Nikaido's hand and spinning him around more than a little drunkenly. "Ne, Nika, dance with me!"
Before Nikaido can voice a protest, Senga tugs him back into the crowd with him. Caught off guard - and not entirely sober himself - Nikaido stumbles, but Senga catches him, still retaining some of that dancer's grace even after all the drinks the rest of Ebikisu bought him. Senga is pressed tight against him, and Nikaido can feel the bassline of the music like a heartbeat, reverberating through both of their bodies. Senga's cheeks are flushed, his eyes hazy with heat and alcohol as he slowly rolls his hips against Nikaido's.
"Takashi," Senga breathes, his cock starting to harden against Nikaido's thigh.
That's all it takes for Nikaido to snap and catch him in a fierce kiss. Senga tastes like one of Goseki's stupid girly pink umbrella drinks, and Nikaido growls against his mouth, sinking his teeth into Senga's bottom lip and reveling in the answering moan.
Senga's hands slip down from Nikaido's waist to settle on his ass, pulling Nikaido even closer like he wants to melt into him and grinding. Nikaido can't hear the little noise he makes in the back of his throat over the music, but he's pretty sure it was a whimper, because he's hard almost instantly. Which isn't really surprising, considering how Senga always seems to have that effect on him, especially when he's gasping Nikaido's name between kisses.
Nikaido frees one of his hands from where it's tangled in Senga's already ridiculous hair and moves it down to slide between Senga's legs. While he will readily admit that Senga's impossibly tight black jeans look fucking fantastic on him, they're a bitch and a half to get into. Nikaido finally manages to work the zipper open and shove his hand into Senga's boxers to wrap around his cock. It's an extremely awkward angle, but Senga doesn't seem to care, shamelessly pushing against Nikaido's fingers in search of more friction.
Nothing else seems to matter but the moment, not the music or the crowd or the potential scandals. Their kisses are beginning to turn messy and off-target, but neither Nikaido nor Senga really gives a damn as they rock helplessly against each other. Senga is making no attempt to muffle the sounds escaping his throat, and for what seems like the millionth time, Nikaido is struck by just how gorgeous his boyfriend is, what few inhibitions he had in the first place completely erased by Nikaido or alcohol or most likely a little of both.
And then he remembers how they ended up here in the first place, and Nikaido decides that no matter how good Senga looks like this, easy and pliant and warm, it's not worth it if he's just going to waste all that ridiculous hotness on people who aren't Nikaido. The thought makes him grip Senga a little tighter, jerk his hand a little rougher. Senga digs his fingers into Nikaido's shoulders, his moans wanton and unrestrained as he bucks into Nikaido's hold.
Nikaido instantly recognizes the way Senga's movements suddenly get frantic. "Now," he hisses, "come on," and Senga does, crying out, the sound swallowed by the throb of the music as he collapses against Nikaido, shivering and breathing hard.
"I just made you come," Nikaido says, and his breath is a harsh whisper against Senga's ear that only makes Senga shudder more intensely against him. "In the middle of a club. On the fucking dance floor."
"Nika," Senga starts to say, but Nikaido nips his earlobe and he shuts up.
"And you're going to remember that it was me who got you off, Ken-chan," Nikaido continues, "because now I'm taking you home and I'm going to fuck you until you scream."
Senga moans again in a tone that indicates he entirely approves of this plan, and Nikaido grabs his hand and tows him toward the door. He feels Senga immediately lace their fingers together, squeezing tight, and it could be just so they don't get separated in the crowd, but it doesn't stop the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Nikaido spots a familiar pair of figures near the edge of the floor. Tamamori and Miyata look just as caught up in each other as ever, and Nikaido has to admit it's a little bit beautiful, even if Tamamori only gets more and more clumsy the drunker he is. Nikaido catches Miyata's attention and nods at the door to let him know that they're leaving, and Miyata gives him an all-knowing grin that makes Nikaido roll his eyes.
The night air is more than a little cold compared to the heat of the crowded club, and it seems to help Senga sober up at least slightly as they make their way to the nearby train station in silence.
They've been waiting on the nearly empty platform for a few minutes when, entirely unprompted, Senga says, "You're really hot when you get jealous, y'know."
Nikaido's thankful that his jacket covers the front of his jeans. "Doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to make me jealous," he says, keeping his voice even.
"Sorry I'm..." Senga trails off with an apologetic shrug.
"Kind of a slut?" Nikaido finishes, acidly.
Senga nods, and Nikaido lets him wrap his arms tighter around Nikaido's waist so they're leaning against each other, two halves as close to being a whole as they can get.
"Mine," Nikaido mumbles against Senga's shoulder.
Senga kisses his temple and promises, "Yours."