16.
Title: Livin’ A Crazy Life
Pairing/Characters: Massu/Yamapi
Rating/Warnings: R for Phone sex
Prompt: 16. Everything Massu says comes out in Spanish. He has lost his ability to speak Japanese completely
Summary: Massu earns a full Spanish vocabulary and decides to put it to good use.
A/N: I don’t know. This happened at midnight on the 4th, I blame Massu entirely (but don’t we all?) Sort of PWP. Thanks to my beta, as always.
He and Masuda rarely talk outside of the jimusho, especially now, which is why he is staring, a little lost, but also a little excited, at his caller ID. But the voice that greets him isn’t Masuda, at least, it isn’t the Masuda he is used to hearing. This voice is smoother, richer, deeper. And it is speaking Spanish.
He blinks, remembering the text he’d gotten from Ryo, earlier, about how Masuda had apparently had the Japanese knocked out of him and Spanish stuffed back in. He’d originally thought it was either a weird joke or a euphemism for something, but he was starting to have second thoughts about that.
He speaks again, still just as deep and smooth, and all Pi can really think is that it sounds warm, almost hot. And that is familiar, at least. He had thought his former band mate had called for emotional support, but he sounded to be taking everything very well.
“Ah, Masuda? If that’s you, I don’t know what you’re saying,” except he sort of does, somewhere deep down, he already knows what that tone of voice means and what Masuda is doing. Why, he hasn’t a clue, but he doesn’t really need to know.
Masuda’s reply is like melted chocolate, and he can almost feel the heat across his lips. He can’t understand a word of it, but it just feels dirty, and he likes dirty.
“What do you want?” He asks, mostly because it’s the most neutral thing he can say while still being questionable. Spanish was one of the romance languages, after all, maybe Masuda was really asking for a sandwich or something.
He doesn’t know the Spanish word for sandwich, but he’s fairly certain that Masuda would never gasp it out like that, drawing out the vowels and growling faintly behind a rolled R. He can only assume, at this point, what Masuda is doing, but there are few options and all of them sound fantastic- he doesn’t think he could be put off by much, in that moment. He’s grateful to be at home, now, lazing around on the couch with a bag of Doritos cradled in the gap between his legs. The bag crunches when he reaches a hand down into his sweat pants, feeling his breath coming harder as his heart beat finds a fast and heavy rhythm in his chest.
He’s more than interested, now, a thrill coursing through him as he starts to think about what might come next, about what Masuda is so obviously doing right then and there with him on the other end of the line. There’s no room for confusion, and despite the distance between them, it feels so amazingly personal.
He’s hesitant, at first, muttering “Do you want to talk?” He hopes he does, but he also hopes he doesn’t expect much of a response. He’s just fingering the trail of coarse hair that leads down to his slowly hardening cock, waiting for another cue that will tell him he’s on the right track. It comes just after he wishes for it, in the form of a hum that sounds contemplative- he’s suddenly so amazingly aroused, because Masuda’s voice has so much control over his body, he’s discovering.
Part of him is still wondering, why him? It just leads to thoughts that reaffirm his vanity and heighten the experience, causing him to lick his lips and speak back. “You just want to listen?” He can hear Masuda’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a long exhale that he imagines goes along with Masuda sliding his hand down his cock, teasing the head, maybe.
He wonders how Masuda touches himself.
There it is, again, fast and rumbling words, going straight for his groin. Masuda’s voice had never quite had this effect on him, though he doesn’t want to attribute it all to the new language. That voice alone, the tone, the way it tickles his eardrums all the way down to his toes, makes them curl into the fabric of his couch. That was all Masuda Takahisa.
He urges the other on, voice low and husky. His cell perched on his shoulder, hunched up to his ear to keep both hands free- one for his chest, one for his hard aching need. He teases along his sternum, trailing up to his nipples and pinching, tugging, forcing out a gasp that was higher than the others. His cock jumps at Masuda’s reply- a deep and hearty moan that needs no translation.
Everything seems too fast, yet just right, at the same time. He was starting to shiver, fisting his length hard, still imagining, wondering if this was how Masuda might like it. How he might feel, right then. Length heavy in his hand, phone pressed into his cheek and hands working at his own body.
There was sex behind his eyelids, in his ears, all around him, but it wasn’t enough. He arches his hips up into the air, fingers grazing just behind his balls, millimeters shy of that sensitive ring of muscle- would Masuda be gentle when touching him back there?
He gave a high whine, the kind that always got Ryo to do what he wanted, “I’m almost there.” Masuda catches the hint, apparently, uttering a long line of obscenities and gasping, the sound of his breath hitting the receiver harsh in Pi’s ear. And then he realizes it- Masuda had just gotten off by listening to him- and he’s gone. His eyes clench shut and his body spasms, rocking from the force while shooting stars play behind his closed eyelids. His mind feels like it’s made of mush, barely able to hear anything over the cacophony that is his and Massu’s moans, riding out the last bit of his orgasm with his mouth wide open.
His fingers still deftly milk his softening erection, tracks of semen across his chest, and his phone still clenched tight to his ear. He can hear Masuda coming down, breath evening out, and it’s almost like he’s right there. Pi closes his eyes to cement the feeling into his memory.
When Masuda speaks again, his voice is breathy and Pi actually understands the few words of thanks before he is hung up on. Just like that, it’s over, as quickly as it had begun, and there is not one ounce of regret in his being.
He lays there and breathes in and out a few more times before sitting up, finding his thigh covered in orange powder and Doritos everywhere. There is a smile on his face when he gets up, ignoring the mess and heading for the shower.
Back at Massu’s place, he is in similar disarray, smile plastered across his face as he scrolls to the next name on his list.
Pairing/Characters: Massu/Yamapi
Rating/Warnings: R for Phone sex
Prompt: 16. Everything Massu says comes out in Spanish. He has lost his ability to speak Japanese completely
Summary: Massu earns a full Spanish vocabulary and decides to put it to good use.
A/N: I don’t know. This happened at midnight on the 4th, I blame Massu entirely (but don’t we all?) Sort of PWP. Thanks to my beta, as always.
He and Masuda rarely talk outside of the jimusho, especially now, which is why he is staring, a little lost, but also a little excited, at his caller ID. But the voice that greets him isn’t Masuda, at least, it isn’t the Masuda he is used to hearing. This voice is smoother, richer, deeper. And it is speaking Spanish.
He blinks, remembering the text he’d gotten from Ryo, earlier, about how Masuda had apparently had the Japanese knocked out of him and Spanish stuffed back in. He’d originally thought it was either a weird joke or a euphemism for something, but he was starting to have second thoughts about that.
He speaks again, still just as deep and smooth, and all Pi can really think is that it sounds warm, almost hot. And that is familiar, at least. He had thought his former band mate had called for emotional support, but he sounded to be taking everything very well.
“Ah, Masuda? If that’s you, I don’t know what you’re saying,” except he sort of does, somewhere deep down, he already knows what that tone of voice means and what Masuda is doing. Why, he hasn’t a clue, but he doesn’t really need to know.
Masuda’s reply is like melted chocolate, and he can almost feel the heat across his lips. He can’t understand a word of it, but it just feels dirty, and he likes dirty.
“What do you want?” He asks, mostly because it’s the most neutral thing he can say while still being questionable. Spanish was one of the romance languages, after all, maybe Masuda was really asking for a sandwich or something.
He doesn’t know the Spanish word for sandwich, but he’s fairly certain that Masuda would never gasp it out like that, drawing out the vowels and growling faintly behind a rolled R. He can only assume, at this point, what Masuda is doing, but there are few options and all of them sound fantastic- he doesn’t think he could be put off by much, in that moment. He’s grateful to be at home, now, lazing around on the couch with a bag of Doritos cradled in the gap between his legs. The bag crunches when he reaches a hand down into his sweat pants, feeling his breath coming harder as his heart beat finds a fast and heavy rhythm in his chest.
He’s more than interested, now, a thrill coursing through him as he starts to think about what might come next, about what Masuda is so obviously doing right then and there with him on the other end of the line. There’s no room for confusion, and despite the distance between them, it feels so amazingly personal.
He’s hesitant, at first, muttering “Do you want to talk?” He hopes he does, but he also hopes he doesn’t expect much of a response. He’s just fingering the trail of coarse hair that leads down to his slowly hardening cock, waiting for another cue that will tell him he’s on the right track. It comes just after he wishes for it, in the form of a hum that sounds contemplative- he’s suddenly so amazingly aroused, because Masuda’s voice has so much control over his body, he’s discovering.
Part of him is still wondering, why him? It just leads to thoughts that reaffirm his vanity and heighten the experience, causing him to lick his lips and speak back. “You just want to listen?” He can hear Masuda’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a long exhale that he imagines goes along with Masuda sliding his hand down his cock, teasing the head, maybe.
He wonders how Masuda touches himself.
There it is, again, fast and rumbling words, going straight for his groin. Masuda’s voice had never quite had this effect on him, though he doesn’t want to attribute it all to the new language. That voice alone, the tone, the way it tickles his eardrums all the way down to his toes, makes them curl into the fabric of his couch. That was all Masuda Takahisa.
He urges the other on, voice low and husky. His cell perched on his shoulder, hunched up to his ear to keep both hands free- one for his chest, one for his hard aching need. He teases along his sternum, trailing up to his nipples and pinching, tugging, forcing out a gasp that was higher than the others. His cock jumps at Masuda’s reply- a deep and hearty moan that needs no translation.
Everything seems too fast, yet just right, at the same time. He was starting to shiver, fisting his length hard, still imagining, wondering if this was how Masuda might like it. How he might feel, right then. Length heavy in his hand, phone pressed into his cheek and hands working at his own body.
There was sex behind his eyelids, in his ears, all around him, but it wasn’t enough. He arches his hips up into the air, fingers grazing just behind his balls, millimeters shy of that sensitive ring of muscle- would Masuda be gentle when touching him back there?
He gave a high whine, the kind that always got Ryo to do what he wanted, “I’m almost there.” Masuda catches the hint, apparently, uttering a long line of obscenities and gasping, the sound of his breath hitting the receiver harsh in Pi’s ear. And then he realizes it- Masuda had just gotten off by listening to him- and he’s gone. His eyes clench shut and his body spasms, rocking from the force while shooting stars play behind his closed eyelids. His mind feels like it’s made of mush, barely able to hear anything over the cacophony that is his and Massu’s moans, riding out the last bit of his orgasm with his mouth wide open.
His fingers still deftly milk his softening erection, tracks of semen across his chest, and his phone still clenched tight to his ear. He can hear Masuda coming down, breath evening out, and it’s almost like he’s right there. Pi closes his eyes to cement the feeling into his memory.
When Masuda speaks again, his voice is breathy and Pi actually understands the few words of thanks before he is hung up on. Just like that, it’s over, as quickly as it had begun, and there is not one ounce of regret in his being.
He lays there and breathes in and out a few more times before sitting up, finding his thigh covered in orange powder and Doritos everywhere. There is a smile on his face when he gets up, ignoring the mess and heading for the shower.
Back at Massu’s place, he is in similar disarray, smile plastered across his face as he scrolls to the next name on his list.