[fic] tomaranai (mabo/nagase)
Tomaranai (Non-stop), some quick MaboNaga porn drabble that I banged out while listening to Midnight Rose I guess. I still have this TOKIO/Inception AU fic in a file and a somewhat long MaboNaga horror thing so I could probably get to those soon. Rated NC-17.
"Non-stop sex on the beach..."
"Those aren't even your lyr--fuck--"
The best thing about fucking Nagase is how expressive he is. Even the smallest, tiniest shift of his hips has the crease between the man's brows deepening, his fingers curling hard into Matsuoka's shoulders and his lips parting the slightest bit wider. If Matsuoka presses his thumbs into the slots between Nagase's ribs, Nagase whines. If Matsuoka moves just a little higher up on his knees, Nagase curses.
"At the counter in the corner..."
"There's sand on my ass you stupid pri--"
Nagase's cut off as Matsuoka gives a sharp snap, the blunt head of his cock pressing hard into the man's heat and making Nagase arch his back with a cry. Just to make a point Matsuoka's fingers slide down Nagase's inner thighs, and he lifts his legs higher, urging his ankles to hook up over his shoulders, effectively keeping his lower back off the gritty sand. Nagase's hands fall off Matsuoka's shoulders, the only proof they'd ever been there the harsh red crescents left in their wake.
"In such a late, purple night..."
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"
Matsuoka kisses Nagase's ankle, his tongue tracing the bone there as his hips rock forward, sliding in and out of the younger man's hole with soft, slapping sounds. Nagase grabs at nothing, crying out, his hands tangled in his own hair in their need to grasp, and he lets out a heady string of curses all mixed in with the syllables of Matsuoka's first name.
"What am I worried about?"
"I'm going to fucking kiiIIILL--"
At this rate Nagase is whining, and Matsuoka digs his teeth into the flesh just above his ankle, his cock so deep in his lover that the small twitch of his balls is felt right by the curve of Nagase's ass. He gives one last quick snap, hitting the man's prostate in something like expertise, and Nagase comes, hot and wet and staining the flat line of his stomach and the small dip between his chest.
Matsuoka's name drips off his lips like honey, and as he slowly lowers the man's legs, he leans in forward to taste it.
And only breaks the kiss to flip Nagase over and go again.
(Nagase doesn't make it to the chorus.)
"Non-stop sex on the beach..."
"Those aren't even your lyr--fuck--"
The best thing about fucking Nagase is how expressive he is. Even the smallest, tiniest shift of his hips has the crease between the man's brows deepening, his fingers curling hard into Matsuoka's shoulders and his lips parting the slightest bit wider. If Matsuoka presses his thumbs into the slots between Nagase's ribs, Nagase whines. If Matsuoka moves just a little higher up on his knees, Nagase curses.
"At the counter in the corner..."
"There's sand on my ass you stupid pri--"
Nagase's cut off as Matsuoka gives a sharp snap, the blunt head of his cock pressing hard into the man's heat and making Nagase arch his back with a cry. Just to make a point Matsuoka's fingers slide down Nagase's inner thighs, and he lifts his legs higher, urging his ankles to hook up over his shoulders, effectively keeping his lower back off the gritty sand. Nagase's hands fall off Matsuoka's shoulders, the only proof they'd ever been there the harsh red crescents left in their wake.
"In such a late, purple night..."
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"
Matsuoka kisses Nagase's ankle, his tongue tracing the bone there as his hips rock forward, sliding in and out of the younger man's hole with soft, slapping sounds. Nagase grabs at nothing, crying out, his hands tangled in his own hair in their need to grasp, and he lets out a heady string of curses all mixed in with the syllables of Matsuoka's first name.
"What am I worried about?"
"I'm going to fucking kiiIIILL--"
At this rate Nagase is whining, and Matsuoka digs his teeth into the flesh just above his ankle, his cock so deep in his lover that the small twitch of his balls is felt right by the curve of Nagase's ass. He gives one last quick snap, hitting the man's prostate in something like expertise, and Nagase comes, hot and wet and staining the flat line of his stomach and the small dip between his chest.
Matsuoka's name drips off his lips like honey, and as he slowly lowers the man's legs, he leans in forward to taste it.
And only breaks the kiss to flip Nagase over and go again.
(Nagase doesn't make it to the chorus.)