Not enough (Aimiya fic)
This is my second posted story for the fanfic100 contest. So yea.
Title: Not enough (cause Nino makes me braindead and I can’t come up with anything better)
Author: Nem
Fandom: Arashi
Characters: Kazunari Ninomiya, Masaki Aiba
Prompt: #34 Not enough
Word Count: 982
Rating: hard R (well as hard as I can write…which is not really hard at all)
Disclamer: They are not mine…this saddens me sometimes but I deal. Don’t sue, really please.
Summary: In which Nino is insatiable and Aiba is very obliging.
Author’s Notes: Yea this is for ames_909 cause all I do is write for other people now it seems. I do not mind this, really prompts are easier. I don’t know if this sounds like Nino’s pov..cause first time writing him, but at least I tried. And is it just me or is all my fanfiction starting to sound the same?
Nino PoV
It’s just not enough.
The sheets don’t caress when it is just my hands on my body.
The cool air is not refreshing because my body is not heated.
My hands don’t excite, because they keep finding flaws that they cannot, will not worship. Ribs that are too close to the skin, hips that jut out almost too roughly, skin coarse and unappealing with goosebumps.
The sounds of the porno in the background do nothing to produce a fire within. The pants fall flat, the cries of strange, unfamiliar names feel like an invasion.
Only pain blooms when an almost uninterested hand tweaks a nipple, the flesh doesn’t even twitch when another trails skittishly over its quiescent, stubbornly unresponsive length. Nails are too biting on skin and fingers feel too big and an intrusion and just not right and god damnit! This sucks!
It’s just not enough and the frustration builds and even though I promised that I would let him rest, I can’t leave it this way.
Passing in front of the phone is its own sort of torture and the cries in the background are annoying now: fake and too-loud and taunting.
The steps to the remote and deliberate and stilted and its really too bad I can’t afford another TV right now because the tinkling crash of glass would be way more satisfying than this.
The hoped-for silence is oppressive and irritating and weighty and crawling is the only way to get to the phone now.
Pathetic and needy and hopeful, hopeless, and this really has nothing to do with hope does it.
The ringing of the phone seems impossibly long and entirely too cheerful and nauseatingly loud.
The sigh leaving my throat is almost too heavy but its absence doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Mosh..” the voice trails away raggedly, thick and grainy with sleep.
I really shouldn’t be doing this, but now that I’m already here, hmm to hang up and let him rest? Decisions, decisions. Maybe I just need his voice.
“Who is this?” irritation now, mild wakefulness and it’s still not enough.
“Aiba…it’s cold,” I can hear the petulance in my own voice, a shameless whine. How does he stand this? Its almost as grating on the nerves as the false exclamations of ecstasy on that pointless porno.
The answering laugh is breathy and slow and trails over my skin tantalizing, like the foreshadowing to the ‘carnal acts’ to come. Heh, carnal acts.
“I’ll be right there. Wait for me,” a pause, and almost as an afterthought, “Don’t touch yourself”
A decisive click. A series of half-heard beeps. That jerk! I should finish without him out of spite.
The minutes are agony. Even the challenge of the new game-boy game began in a desperate attempt to pass the time does not keep my attention sufficiently. Why is it that the clock stubbornly moves in minutes only?
Somehow, even with looking up at every minute I still miss Aiba’s entrance. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold and his eyes are twinkling and he is already striping out of his coat, and sweatshirt and oh, pants now.
The distance seems meager and inconsequential as I wind myself around him; hands burying under his shirt, one leg winding around him, nose in his hair and lips in the crook of his neck.
He laughs again, open-mouthed and hearty and the warmth of his fingers sizzles into my back,
“Did you do as I asked, Ni~no?”
My answer is some vague buzz, because his skin is slightly salty and oh so soft my hands are warm now in the cavern between his shirt and back and somehow even that is still not enough. I want, I want…
Fingers threading through my hair, digging and massaging the scalp and his lips on mine now. Open, insisting and oh teeth and tongue and wetness, yes.
Somehow we are on the bed and his body is teasingly close over my skin and it really is not fair because I wanted to feel the start of the fire and now I find it blazing already.
He puts my hands above my head, pushing at the crossed wrists and lingering and his look is slightly dark and mildly possessive and it means stay. The whine catches in my throat minutely. He smiles, almost too bright and too full of sunshine and bends his head.
His trails of nips and licks and kisses are always a little wandering, a little of center but enthusiastic and teasing and good and
“Aiba, no come on!”
Why does he always bypass where I want him most? Really.
I can feel my hands twitching, wanting to move and tangle in his hair and just push him, but he of course knows what I’m thinking and looks up with that look and I still, panting and needing and striving to make those noises he likes so much, the ones that make his fingers grip more solidly and make his body twitch a little, the ones that make him want me.
He answers with a sucking kiss on the inside of one thigh and a,
“I want you to cum from only feeling me in you”
His sunny, satisfied smile shouldn’t fit that phrase.
His fingers are right there, just big enough and perfect and slick and right and its almost enough now.
I can feel him nudging, teasing now, and his grin is mischievous and strangely tender all at once.
“Ai…ba…”
and
“Hard”
and
“Now”
and
“…more”
He slams in and doesn’t pause and my body arches and writhers without conscious though and burn, heat, pleasure, pain, friction, feeling.
“Ni…no…for me, now!” urgent and strained and heady.
...
I must’a blacked out a little and that’s not fair either, but he is comfortably heavy and silkily-soft and his hands are tracing gentle, curious patterns and:
“I got what I wanted,” he murmurs, agile tongue flicking along one of my ears and a shiver runs fitfully through my body.
It’s finally enough.
My eyes land on the game-boy lying forlornly on the floor and flashing ‘game over’ in bright, spiteful colors.
God damnit.
The end.
And that is it for today. I shall probably try for that Sho one that little_bruises has been asking for…or just you know go to the random generator or something…not sure. Oh and while I am here please allow me to beg forgiveness for my abuse of the English language vaguely defend myself with the fact that I stupidly posted this without anyone betaing for me.
Title: Not enough (cause Nino makes me braindead and I can’t come up with anything better)
Author: Nem
Fandom: Arashi
Characters: Kazunari Ninomiya, Masaki Aiba
Prompt: #34 Not enough
Word Count: 982
Rating: hard R (well as hard as I can write…which is not really hard at all)
Disclamer: They are not mine…this saddens me sometimes but I deal. Don’t sue, really please.
Summary: In which Nino is insatiable and Aiba is very obliging.
Author’s Notes: Yea this is for ames_909 cause all I do is write for other people now it seems. I do not mind this, really prompts are easier. I don’t know if this sounds like Nino’s pov..cause first time writing him, but at least I tried. And is it just me or is all my fanfiction starting to sound the same?
Nino PoV
It’s just not enough.
The sheets don’t caress when it is just my hands on my body.
The cool air is not refreshing because my body is not heated.
My hands don’t excite, because they keep finding flaws that they cannot, will not worship. Ribs that are too close to the skin, hips that jut out almost too roughly, skin coarse and unappealing with goosebumps.
The sounds of the porno in the background do nothing to produce a fire within. The pants fall flat, the cries of strange, unfamiliar names feel like an invasion.
Only pain blooms when an almost uninterested hand tweaks a nipple, the flesh doesn’t even twitch when another trails skittishly over its quiescent, stubbornly unresponsive length. Nails are too biting on skin and fingers feel too big and an intrusion and just not right and god damnit! This sucks!
It’s just not enough and the frustration builds and even though I promised that I would let him rest, I can’t leave it this way.
Passing in front of the phone is its own sort of torture and the cries in the background are annoying now: fake and too-loud and taunting.
The steps to the remote and deliberate and stilted and its really too bad I can’t afford another TV right now because the tinkling crash of glass would be way more satisfying than this.
The hoped-for silence is oppressive and irritating and weighty and crawling is the only way to get to the phone now.
Pathetic and needy and hopeful, hopeless, and this really has nothing to do with hope does it.
The ringing of the phone seems impossibly long and entirely too cheerful and nauseatingly loud.
The sigh leaving my throat is almost too heavy but its absence doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Mosh..” the voice trails away raggedly, thick and grainy with sleep.
I really shouldn’t be doing this, but now that I’m already here, hmm to hang up and let him rest? Decisions, decisions. Maybe I just need his voice.
“Who is this?” irritation now, mild wakefulness and it’s still not enough.
“Aiba…it’s cold,” I can hear the petulance in my own voice, a shameless whine. How does he stand this? Its almost as grating on the nerves as the false exclamations of ecstasy on that pointless porno.
The answering laugh is breathy and slow and trails over my skin tantalizing, like the foreshadowing to the ‘carnal acts’ to come. Heh, carnal acts.
“I’ll be right there. Wait for me,” a pause, and almost as an afterthought, “Don’t touch yourself”
A decisive click. A series of half-heard beeps. That jerk! I should finish without him out of spite.
The minutes are agony. Even the challenge of the new game-boy game began in a desperate attempt to pass the time does not keep my attention sufficiently. Why is it that the clock stubbornly moves in minutes only?
Somehow, even with looking up at every minute I still miss Aiba’s entrance. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold and his eyes are twinkling and he is already striping out of his coat, and sweatshirt and oh, pants now.
The distance seems meager and inconsequential as I wind myself around him; hands burying under his shirt, one leg winding around him, nose in his hair and lips in the crook of his neck.
He laughs again, open-mouthed and hearty and the warmth of his fingers sizzles into my back,
“Did you do as I asked, Ni~no?”
My answer is some vague buzz, because his skin is slightly salty and oh so soft my hands are warm now in the cavern between his shirt and back and somehow even that is still not enough. I want, I want…
Fingers threading through my hair, digging and massaging the scalp and his lips on mine now. Open, insisting and oh teeth and tongue and wetness, yes.
Somehow we are on the bed and his body is teasingly close over my skin and it really is not fair because I wanted to feel the start of the fire and now I find it blazing already.
He puts my hands above my head, pushing at the crossed wrists and lingering and his look is slightly dark and mildly possessive and it means stay. The whine catches in my throat minutely. He smiles, almost too bright and too full of sunshine and bends his head.
His trails of nips and licks and kisses are always a little wandering, a little of center but enthusiastic and teasing and good and
“Aiba, no come on!”
Why does he always bypass where I want him most? Really.
I can feel my hands twitching, wanting to move and tangle in his hair and just push him, but he of course knows what I’m thinking and looks up with that look and I still, panting and needing and striving to make those noises he likes so much, the ones that make his fingers grip more solidly and make his body twitch a little, the ones that make him want me.
He answers with a sucking kiss on the inside of one thigh and a,
“I want you to cum from only feeling me in you”
His sunny, satisfied smile shouldn’t fit that phrase.
His fingers are right there, just big enough and perfect and slick and right and its almost enough now.
I can feel him nudging, teasing now, and his grin is mischievous and strangely tender all at once.
“Ai…ba…”
and
“Hard”
and
“Now”
and
“…more”
He slams in and doesn’t pause and my body arches and writhers without conscious though and burn, heat, pleasure, pain, friction, feeling.
“Ni…no…for me, now!” urgent and strained and heady.
...
I must’a blacked out a little and that’s not fair either, but he is comfortably heavy and silkily-soft and his hands are tracing gentle, curious patterns and:
“I got what I wanted,” he murmurs, agile tongue flicking along one of my ears and a shiver runs fitfully through my body.
It’s finally enough.
My eyes land on the game-boy lying forlornly on the floor and flashing ‘game over’ in bright, spiteful colors.
God damnit.
The end.
And that is it for today. I shall probably try for that Sho one that little_bruises has been asking for…or just you know go to the random generator or something…not sure. Oh and while I am here please allow me to beg forgiveness for my abuse of the English language vaguely defend myself with the fact that I stupidly posted this without anyone betaing for me.