Fic - Uchi is a Boy
Title: Uchi Is A Boy
Group: Kanjani8/NEWS
Rating: R
Pairing:Ryo/Uchi (or, if you're a stickler for top/bottom: Uchi/Ryo)
Word Count:1,151
Note: No plot...really. Uchi shoves Ryo up against a kitchen counter. bloodybrilliant is amazing and she edited for me~ <3
All fail is my fault.
It’s becoming increasingly rare for them to have coinciding days off. So when they miraculously have a night off Ryo doesn’t hesitate when Uchi excitedly offers to show him what he’s been practicing for ‘Osen’ filming.
Ryo enjoys watching Uchi work around his kitchen; bending down to get pots, completely focused while he’s working with the ingredients, and the bland white apron that he somehow makes look hot. Ryo watches the process in the kitchen, out of Uchi’s way, with a beer in hand.
He finishes the beer around the same time Uchi finishes putting the stuff together, washing the gunk off of his hands before moving to rest them on Ryo’s hips.
“We have an hour,” Uchi grins, predator-like. His fingers hooking through Ryo’s belt loops.
“What are we going to do with the other 50 minutes?” Ryo grins, arms crossed, as he leans back against the counter.
“Ass,” Uchi rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore the snide remark in lieu of grabbing Ryo’s waist and hoisting him, not-so gently, onto the countertop; Ryo, indignant, pushes at Uchi’s shoulder, “Bastard, I hate it when you do that,” his voice jumping up in a slight whine.
Uchi smiles crookedly, fingers already slipping underneath the hem of Ryo’s shirt, pads of his fingers playing against his toned stomach. “But you enjoy this,” Uchi whispers into Ryo’s ear, roughly palming the front of his jeans. He kisses up Ryo’s neck, across his jaw, teasingly avoiding Ryo when he turns his head for a kiss.
Ryo’s hands come up and grab Uchi’s shirt at the shoulders, fisting in the fabric, he pulls Uchi forward to roughly press their lips together. Their lips slide wetly together and bodies flush with warmth. Uchi, all at once, shoves Ryo’s legs apart and pins his hands down on the counter; grinding his hips forward into Ryo’s, Ryo groans and Uchi leans forward to lightly nip Ryo’s exposed collarbone.
Panting, Ryo flicks his tongue out to wetting his lips. Uchi swiftly divests Ryo of his jeans, yanking them off and dropping them on the floor. Ryo frowns for a second, the jeans were expensive! His complaint is preempted because his boxers are next to go and, “Fuck…” Ryo hisses, Uchi is squeezing his cock, and stroking him from the base up. Ryo falls backwards, head knocking into the cupboard, his elbows braced on the counter-top, back bowed. “Ryo,” Uchi grunts slowing down; stopping to tug Ryo’s legs up around his waist. Ryo pulls himself up, gripping Uchi’s arm, and peppers kisses across Uchi’s jaw, breathing heavily against his cheek when Uchi resumes the steady pulling.
Ryo’s left hand is wrapped around Uchi’s shoulders while his right grips the edge of the counter, muscles straining; working to hold himself up, as he pushes himself into Uchi’s fist; head falling back with a groan, while Uchi kisses a path up the taunt muscles in his neck, pausing to suck noisily on the sensitive spot behind Ryo’s ear.
Ryo works to undo the first knot of the apron, trailing his hand down Uchi’s back to the knot there, Uchi shudders and his hips shift forward. Ryo works one-handed while trying to keep up the rhythm, his arm trembling.
“Fuck. Wait, wait,” Uchi’s hand clumsily searches in the pocket of the apron; scattering the contents on top of the counter, before allowing the cloth to drop to the floor.
Ryo catches sight of the tube and packet; his derisive snort is cutoff when Uchi’s hand wraps back around his cock, and lips are covering his. It’s a barrage of sensations, all overwhelming for Ryo: the cool edge of the counter, Uchi’s hands steadily jerking him off, Uchi’s lips pressing against his demanding and rough, and the heat burning on the inside of his thighs, where they touch Uchi’s hips.
Uchi stops and Ryo almost whines but settles for helping Uchi fumble to unhook his belt and jeans; pushing jeans and boxers one-handed, halfway, down Uchi’s thighs. Uchi pulls back, reaching for the tube he brought out earlier, while Ryo sheds his shirt.
“Ha. You’re optimistic,” Ryo leans backwards anyways; bracing himself on the palms of his hands.
“No, you’re just a sure thing,” Uchi smiles, and Ryo scoffs before not whimpering when Uchi starts stroking him again, simultaneously pressing a slick finger into Ryo. By the time Uchi has three pressing into him, Ryo is writhing beneath him; wantonly pushing back against Uchi’s hand.
“Fuck, n-now,” Ryo groans, and reaches down to sharply tug on Uchi’s cock. Uchi whimpers; trying to roll the condom on with shaking hands. Ryo happens to catch the look in Uchi’s eye and his mouth goes dry, even before Uchi yanks him forward grinding their cocks together. Ryo’s entire body feels like it is on fire, and if the way he can feel Uchi’s muscles quiver underneath his touch is any indication, Uchi is just as worked up.
Ryo’s breathe hitches, and his hands scrabble to find purchase on Uchi’s shoulders when Uchi lifts him off the counter to sink into him. Uchi’s fails at suppressing a groan, his forehead pressed into Ryo’s shoulder, arms quivering slightly; trying not to move.
Ryo, eyes scrunched shut, breathes out, “Please…,” lightly kicking Uchi’s ass with his heel when he can take more; his arms tightening in an embrace around Uchi’s shoulders, while Uchi snaps his hips forward. His grip on Ryo’s hips tightening; Uchi pants, out of breath, thrusting forward with his hair sticking to Ryo’s skin. He pants heavily, surrounded by Ryo; Ryo’s nails scratching at the base of his neck, heel digging into his lower back, urging him faster, and Ryo’s mouth pressed into his hair, murmuring incoherently.
It’s when Ryo starts groaning his name that Uchi starts to lose it, hips stuttering, head falling back, keening as he comes shaking. His hand reaching in between Ryo’s legs, stroking up before thumbing the tip; flicking his wrist to make Ryo’s body tense and go taunt as he comes over Uchi’s hand, chest heaving.
They stay like that, heart-rate coming down before Uchi pulls out, and lets Ryo slide down; his feet finding the floor. Uchi slides the condom off, throwing it out, before pulling up his jeans.
“The kitchens a mess,” Ryo grimaces.
“I cooked,” Uchi grins, and Ryo punches his arm.
“Ow! That hurt, dick,” Uchi frowns, picking up Ryo’s jeans and tossing them at his head.
Ryo pulls them on before throwing the used dishes in the sink.
He flicks soapy water at Uchi when he comes over to stand by the sink. Uchi dips his hand in the water before pressing it to the back of Ryo’s neck, cackling when Ryo shrieks and fails in his attempt to kick him.
“I’ll help you dry,” Uchi concedes magnanimously, reaching across Ryo to grab the towel. Ryo rolls his eyes, but grabs the first frying pan anyways.
Group: Kanjani8/NEWS
Rating: R
Pairing:Ryo/Uchi (or, if you're a stickler for top/bottom: Uchi/Ryo)
Word Count:1,151
Note: No plot...really. Uchi shoves Ryo up against a kitchen counter. bloodybrilliant is amazing and she edited for me~ <3
All fail is my fault.
It’s becoming increasingly rare for them to have coinciding days off. So when they miraculously have a night off Ryo doesn’t hesitate when Uchi excitedly offers to show him what he’s been practicing for ‘Osen’ filming.
Ryo enjoys watching Uchi work around his kitchen; bending down to get pots, completely focused while he’s working with the ingredients, and the bland white apron that he somehow makes look hot. Ryo watches the process in the kitchen, out of Uchi’s way, with a beer in hand.
He finishes the beer around the same time Uchi finishes putting the stuff together, washing the gunk off of his hands before moving to rest them on Ryo’s hips.
“We have an hour,” Uchi grins, predator-like. His fingers hooking through Ryo’s belt loops.
“What are we going to do with the other 50 minutes?” Ryo grins, arms crossed, as he leans back against the counter.
“Ass,” Uchi rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore the snide remark in lieu of grabbing Ryo’s waist and hoisting him, not-so gently, onto the countertop; Ryo, indignant, pushes at Uchi’s shoulder, “Bastard, I hate it when you do that,” his voice jumping up in a slight whine.
Uchi smiles crookedly, fingers already slipping underneath the hem of Ryo’s shirt, pads of his fingers playing against his toned stomach. “But you enjoy this,” Uchi whispers into Ryo’s ear, roughly palming the front of his jeans. He kisses up Ryo’s neck, across his jaw, teasingly avoiding Ryo when he turns his head for a kiss.
Ryo’s hands come up and grab Uchi’s shirt at the shoulders, fisting in the fabric, he pulls Uchi forward to roughly press their lips together. Their lips slide wetly together and bodies flush with warmth. Uchi, all at once, shoves Ryo’s legs apart and pins his hands down on the counter; grinding his hips forward into Ryo’s, Ryo groans and Uchi leans forward to lightly nip Ryo’s exposed collarbone.
Panting, Ryo flicks his tongue out to wetting his lips. Uchi swiftly divests Ryo of his jeans, yanking them off and dropping them on the floor. Ryo frowns for a second, the jeans were expensive! His complaint is preempted because his boxers are next to go and, “Fuck…” Ryo hisses, Uchi is squeezing his cock, and stroking him from the base up. Ryo falls backwards, head knocking into the cupboard, his elbows braced on the counter-top, back bowed. “Ryo,” Uchi grunts slowing down; stopping to tug Ryo’s legs up around his waist. Ryo pulls himself up, gripping Uchi’s arm, and peppers kisses across Uchi’s jaw, breathing heavily against his cheek when Uchi resumes the steady pulling.
Ryo’s left hand is wrapped around Uchi’s shoulders while his right grips the edge of the counter, muscles straining; working to hold himself up, as he pushes himself into Uchi’s fist; head falling back with a groan, while Uchi kisses a path up the taunt muscles in his neck, pausing to suck noisily on the sensitive spot behind Ryo’s ear.
Ryo works to undo the first knot of the apron, trailing his hand down Uchi’s back to the knot there, Uchi shudders and his hips shift forward. Ryo works one-handed while trying to keep up the rhythm, his arm trembling.
“Fuck. Wait, wait,” Uchi’s hand clumsily searches in the pocket of the apron; scattering the contents on top of the counter, before allowing the cloth to drop to the floor.
Ryo catches sight of the tube and packet; his derisive snort is cutoff when Uchi’s hand wraps back around his cock, and lips are covering his. It’s a barrage of sensations, all overwhelming for Ryo: the cool edge of the counter, Uchi’s hands steadily jerking him off, Uchi’s lips pressing against his demanding and rough, and the heat burning on the inside of his thighs, where they touch Uchi’s hips.
Uchi stops and Ryo almost whines but settles for helping Uchi fumble to unhook his belt and jeans; pushing jeans and boxers one-handed, halfway, down Uchi’s thighs. Uchi pulls back, reaching for the tube he brought out earlier, while Ryo sheds his shirt.
“Ha. You’re optimistic,” Ryo leans backwards anyways; bracing himself on the palms of his hands.
“No, you’re just a sure thing,” Uchi smiles, and Ryo scoffs before not whimpering when Uchi starts stroking him again, simultaneously pressing a slick finger into Ryo. By the time Uchi has three pressing into him, Ryo is writhing beneath him; wantonly pushing back against Uchi’s hand.
“Fuck, n-now,” Ryo groans, and reaches down to sharply tug on Uchi’s cock. Uchi whimpers; trying to roll the condom on with shaking hands. Ryo happens to catch the look in Uchi’s eye and his mouth goes dry, even before Uchi yanks him forward grinding their cocks together. Ryo’s entire body feels like it is on fire, and if the way he can feel Uchi’s muscles quiver underneath his touch is any indication, Uchi is just as worked up.
Ryo’s breathe hitches, and his hands scrabble to find purchase on Uchi’s shoulders when Uchi lifts him off the counter to sink into him. Uchi’s fails at suppressing a groan, his forehead pressed into Ryo’s shoulder, arms quivering slightly; trying not to move.
Ryo, eyes scrunched shut, breathes out, “Please…,” lightly kicking Uchi’s ass with his heel when he can take more; his arms tightening in an embrace around Uchi’s shoulders, while Uchi snaps his hips forward. His grip on Ryo’s hips tightening; Uchi pants, out of breath, thrusting forward with his hair sticking to Ryo’s skin. He pants heavily, surrounded by Ryo; Ryo’s nails scratching at the base of his neck, heel digging into his lower back, urging him faster, and Ryo’s mouth pressed into his hair, murmuring incoherently.
It’s when Ryo starts groaning his name that Uchi starts to lose it, hips stuttering, head falling back, keening as he comes shaking. His hand reaching in between Ryo’s legs, stroking up before thumbing the tip; flicking his wrist to make Ryo’s body tense and go taunt as he comes over Uchi’s hand, chest heaving.
They stay like that, heart-rate coming down before Uchi pulls out, and lets Ryo slide down; his feet finding the floor. Uchi slides the condom off, throwing it out, before pulling up his jeans.
“The kitchens a mess,” Ryo grimaces.
“I cooked,” Uchi grins, and Ryo punches his arm.
“Ow! That hurt, dick,” Uchi frowns, picking up Ryo’s jeans and tossing them at his head.
Ryo pulls them on before throwing the used dishes in the sink.
He flicks soapy water at Uchi when he comes over to stand by the sink. Uchi dips his hand in the water before pressing it to the back of Ryo’s neck, cackling when Ryo shrieks and fails in his attempt to kick him.
“I’ll help you dry,” Uchi concedes magnanimously, reaching across Ryo to grab the towel. Ryo rolls his eyes, but grabs the first frying pan anyways.