honour is overrated
Who: Nagase and Domoto Tsuyoshi.
What: R for the last line, ahaha; 700w. For Anon here.
What I want: Them talking about who they'd hypothetically fuck in the agency.
Summary: There's a time and place for most things, and watching TV in a love hotel is not one of them (even if it is the porn channel).
Nagase is watching TV. Such a waste, Tsuyoshi thinks. There's a time and place for most things, and TV in a love hotel is not one of them.
Tsuyoshi is watching Nagase. They're side by side and Nagase is sprawled out, lazily comfortable across the king-sized bed and taking up most of the room. Tsuyoshi doesn't mind.
"That girl," Nagase says absently of the barely legal (and barelier dressed) figure on the flickering screen, "she looks like that Tegoshi."
Tsuyoshi spares her barely a glance. Tegoshi, he thinks, used to look a lot less cute. Tegoshi, he also thinks, has never had a hundred-centimetre bust. "You wish she was Tegoshi," he says. There's scorn in his voice, but he makes up for it by drawing his leg slowly up Nagase's. Distracting.
Nagase sucks in a deep breath and goes for his pack of smokes on the nightstand, apparently determined to not take his eyes off the TV. "Well," he says matter-of-factly, "Tegoshi is pretty."
"You'd fuck him," Tsuyoshi says, bored of tone.
"In a Tokyo heartbeat," Nagase agrees. He lights up and takes a long drag.
Tsuyoshi's brow raises in lazy half-disbelief. "You haven't already? My Boss, My Hero..."
"Maa..." Nagase doesn't so much squirm as shift a little on the bed. "He was kind of... small... then."
"Kouhai," Tsuyoshi says with mild disgust, taking Nagase's cigarette from between his fingers. "Liar. Who else?"
Nagase's eyes finally leave the screen, following the glowing embers to Tsuyoshi's lips and staring as Tsuyoshi's cheeks hollow slowly, deliberately, as he sucks on the filter. "Umm... Pi?"
Tsuyoshi's laughter is abrupt and amused, sending Nagase's mind elsewhere like the smoke from his mouth. "Yamashita? That kid has his own great lout to deal with. I doubt he'd want another."
Nagase frowns, brows drawing as he deciphers Tsuyoshi's not-so-hidden insult. "I've never walked into a camera," he says petulantly. "Who'd you do then?"
Tsuyoshi's smile half hides behind his hand as the cigarette's slow burn chews white to black ash, and he says nothing for a long while. Nagase's eyes turn back to the TV. Then: "Speaking of the devil, I suppose... Akanishi."
And Nagase's eyes are right back on Tsuyoshi. "I thought you guys hated KAT-TUN."
Tsuyoshi shrugs, cryptic like a winter beach. "Koichi says it's complicated."
"Ohhh..." Nagase says, before he can realise the answer makes no sense. He shrugs that feeling of incomprehension off with practised ease. "Well, I'd do Kou-chan too, of course."
"There should be no 'would' in that sentence," Tsuyoshi points out.
Nagase pillows his hands behind his head. "Does that make it grammatically incorrect, Sensei?" He's been told he speaks grammatically incorrect a lot.
"No," Tsuyoshi says though, "just factually."
"Oh," Nagase says. "Okay. Well, it's your turn anyway."
Tsuyoshi snorts softly, a small puff of smoke making Nagase's eyes close when he next inhales. "Nobody from Tokio."
"Hey," Nagase grunts. "What's wrong with fucking my band?"
Tsuyoshi hums. "A lot of things, not least of which is that statement."
Nagase cracks an eye open, peering at Tsuyoshi for a bit. And how the TV light dances over his face. "How do you mean?"
"I wouldn't eat a chocolate bar," Tsuyoshi says plainly, "that sits around half unwrapped."
Dirty jokes, Nagase gets. He snickers. "Just because Leader likes to wear no pants."
"You all quite freely disregard your pants," Tsuyoshi points out. "It offends my sensibilities."
The gears visibly tick over in Nagase's brain for several seconds before he sits up, a subjectively clever smirk on his face. The way he turns to Tsuyoshi skids past coy and right into skanky. "Am I offending you now?" he asks. "Because I could put my pants back on if you want."
Tsuyoshi humours him well enough, taking another long drag on the cigarette and enjoying the thoughts that play out clear across Nagase's face when he does. "You're welcome to," he says of the pants, "if you're willing to suffer for your honour..."
Nagase doesn't fancy himself terribly smart most times but, honour, he's inclined to think not ten minutes later with Tsuyoshi on his knees, lips on his cock and humming vibrato in the back of his throat... well. Honour might be something of an overrated virtue.
Well, not the half-toned one, but there are weird new eggs? °∇°?? *curious*
Hora, it flies!
What: R for the last line, ahaha; 700w. For Anon here.
What I want: Them talking about who they'd hypothetically fuck in the agency.
Summary: There's a time and place for most things, and watching TV in a love hotel is not one of them (even if it is the porn channel).
Nagase is watching TV. Such a waste, Tsuyoshi thinks. There's a time and place for most things, and TV in a love hotel is not one of them.
Tsuyoshi is watching Nagase. They're side by side and Nagase is sprawled out, lazily comfortable across the king-sized bed and taking up most of the room. Tsuyoshi doesn't mind.
"That girl," Nagase says absently of the barely legal (and barelier dressed) figure on the flickering screen, "she looks like that Tegoshi."
Tsuyoshi spares her barely a glance. Tegoshi, he thinks, used to look a lot less cute. Tegoshi, he also thinks, has never had a hundred-centimetre bust. "You wish she was Tegoshi," he says. There's scorn in his voice, but he makes up for it by drawing his leg slowly up Nagase's. Distracting.
Nagase sucks in a deep breath and goes for his pack of smokes on the nightstand, apparently determined to not take his eyes off the TV. "Well," he says matter-of-factly, "Tegoshi is pretty."
"You'd fuck him," Tsuyoshi says, bored of tone.
"In a Tokyo heartbeat," Nagase agrees. He lights up and takes a long drag.
Tsuyoshi's brow raises in lazy half-disbelief. "You haven't already? My Boss, My Hero..."
"Maa..." Nagase doesn't so much squirm as shift a little on the bed. "He was kind of... small... then."
"Kouhai," Tsuyoshi says with mild disgust, taking Nagase's cigarette from between his fingers. "Liar. Who else?"
Nagase's eyes finally leave the screen, following the glowing embers to Tsuyoshi's lips and staring as Tsuyoshi's cheeks hollow slowly, deliberately, as he sucks on the filter. "Umm... Pi?"
Tsuyoshi's laughter is abrupt and amused, sending Nagase's mind elsewhere like the smoke from his mouth. "Yamashita? That kid has his own great lout to deal with. I doubt he'd want another."
Nagase frowns, brows drawing as he deciphers Tsuyoshi's not-so-hidden insult. "I've never walked into a camera," he says petulantly. "Who'd you do then?"
Tsuyoshi's smile half hides behind his hand as the cigarette's slow burn chews white to black ash, and he says nothing for a long while. Nagase's eyes turn back to the TV. Then: "Speaking of the devil, I suppose... Akanishi."
And Nagase's eyes are right back on Tsuyoshi. "I thought you guys hated KAT-TUN."
Tsuyoshi shrugs, cryptic like a winter beach. "Koichi says it's complicated."
"Ohhh..." Nagase says, before he can realise the answer makes no sense. He shrugs that feeling of incomprehension off with practised ease. "Well, I'd do Kou-chan too, of course."
"There should be no 'would' in that sentence," Tsuyoshi points out.
Nagase pillows his hands behind his head. "Does that make it grammatically incorrect, Sensei?" He's been told he speaks grammatically incorrect a lot.
"No," Tsuyoshi says though, "just factually."
"Oh," Nagase says. "Okay. Well, it's your turn anyway."
Tsuyoshi snorts softly, a small puff of smoke making Nagase's eyes close when he next inhales. "Nobody from Tokio."
"Hey," Nagase grunts. "What's wrong with fucking my band?"
Tsuyoshi hums. "A lot of things, not least of which is that statement."
Nagase cracks an eye open, peering at Tsuyoshi for a bit. And how the TV light dances over his face. "How do you mean?"
"I wouldn't eat a chocolate bar," Tsuyoshi says plainly, "that sits around half unwrapped."
Dirty jokes, Nagase gets. He snickers. "Just because Leader likes to wear no pants."
"You all quite freely disregard your pants," Tsuyoshi points out. "It offends my sensibilities."
The gears visibly tick over in Nagase's brain for several seconds before he sits up, a subjectively clever smirk on his face. The way he turns to Tsuyoshi skids past coy and right into skanky. "Am I offending you now?" he asks. "Because I could put my pants back on if you want."
Tsuyoshi humours him well enough, taking another long drag on the cigarette and enjoying the thoughts that play out clear across Nagase's face when he does. "You're welcome to," he says of the pants, "if you're willing to suffer for your honour..."
Nagase doesn't fancy himself terribly smart most times but, honour, he's inclined to think not ten minutes later with Tsuyoshi on his knees, lips on his cock and humming vibrato in the back of his throat... well. Honour might be something of an overrated virtue.
Well, not the half-toned one, but there are weird new eggs? °∇°?? *curious*
Hora, it flies!