FIC FOR EVERYONE
For: all hyphens and potatoes
From: sashjun & sekky_chan
Title: Give Me What I Don’t Know
Pairings/Characters: Nakamaru/Ueda
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unrealistic premise because we all know Nakamaru is secretly very much desirable and probably regularly gets some.
Notes:hyphen_chan has found himself in possession of an extra fic and decided to post it for everyone’s enjoyment.
However, a special dedication goes to je_levy, who has become one of Hyphen-chan’s alter egos this year and has not only done an amazing job, but also kept one other old, grumpy and bitter alterego sane. Overall, she has been lovely, kind person and amazing enthusiast, and has cemented the creation of her own fun club in the process. Dear Levy, Team Triple S hopes you enjoy this despite knowing of this premise for some time now. We had fun exploring it ♥ 10 198 words
Summary: When Nakamaru drunkenly admits to being thirty year old virgin, all hell breaks loose.
Alcohol is the most evil product mankind has ever subjected itself to, Nakamaru thinks.
There is absolutely nothing worse than waking up with what feels like cement poured into his brain through his eyes, accompanied by the vague horror that somehow he must have eaten an entire tube of toothpaste and his tongue now feels like coarse scrubbing brush coated in mint.
As it turns out, the massive hangover isn’t the worst, not by a long shot. Nakamaru shuts his eyes behind the sunglasses-where did all this light come from? Slowly, he opens the door to their dressing room and comes face to face with a hyperactive Junno swinging a rolled up gossip magazine like a sword. Nakamaru’s poor reflexes don’t prevent him from being smacked across the face withit.
“From now on, I will protect your virtue with all my might,” Junno proclaims unapologetically, arms spread wide.
“What is he talking about?”Nakamaru asks a sleepy Ueda, who is right behind him. For a change it had been Nakamaru who drank and Ueda who drove last night, and the consequences seem to be lethal. Ueda just shrugs, eyes crossing in on Nakamaru’s nose.
Even in a state of being half brain dead, Nakamaru knows he’s lying.
Kame pushes both of them from the doorway and pats Nakamaru on his butt.
“If you ever feel in need of deflowering, I will volunteer,” he says, and headstowards the water bottles behind Junno. He doesn’t need to because Junno throws one at him with a dramatic spin; his magazine sword follows soon after to point at Kame’s face.
“Don’t you dare. Yuichi should stay beautiful for the one and only,” Junno croons, and Nakamaru’s tingling brain slowly comes back to life. He finally, finally feels like remembering. The realization comes crashing like a two-ton wrecking ball smacking him into a wall labeled horrific embarrassment.
“More like old and severely sexually frustrated,” Ueda murmurs from behind him, shuffling towards the couches.
“And I always thought that would be Kame,” Junno muses. Kame is too busy eyeing Nakamaru as though he’s won the Miss Wet T-shirt contest to even notice.
Nakamaru stands there, not knowing what to do because Junno is creepily approving and Kame is leering, and suddenly he doesn’t know if sitting next to Ueda would be a wise decision right now. He certainly can’t look at him. It doesn’t help that he feels like a piece of candy being put in front of a couple of starving kids right now.
“What else did I talk about last night?”Nakamaru asks Ueda quietly, resolving to rip off the band-aid once and for all. Ueda gives him a sidelong glance, and he feels like squirming out of his skin.
“Nothing, you fell asleep in the car,” Ueda says at last. This time, not even Nakamaru’s nose seems to hold his attention, his eyes resting instead on the white wall behind him, but he pulls at Nakamaru’s hand, and Nakamaru clambers into his lap then scurries off it too fast.
Nakamaru hates it when Ueda lies to him. He might think he’s good at it, but they’ve known each other for way too long. He hates it even more right now because the possible implications make him want to become an ostrich, head in the sand forever.
“It’s not like I’ve been saving myself or anything,” he mutters.
“That would be stupid, for sure,”Ueda says, and then drags his cell phone out, pretending like he actually knows how to do anything else other than play games on it. Nakamaru feels a little gratitude that at least Ueda has enough decency not to rub his drunken admission in his face.
Unlike some other people. Nakamaru takes a deep, shaky breath because Kame is still staring like he’s just discovered Nakamaru has two heads, and Junno has moved on to make another sword out of PET bottles.
Ueda’s hand slides to his knee then lands on his thigh, and Nakamaru might have made a weird sound in his throat.
“Breathe, or you’re going to choke before you manage... anything else,” Ueda whispers, and he rubs a circle into Nakamaru’s thigh, as if it helps the matter at all.
That is it, Nakamaru thinks. His life is officially over.
**
Nakamaru has known Ueda for more than a decade, and if there is one thing he knows about Ueda Tatsuya at all, it’s that he is, in no way, a gentleman. Not even with the ladies.
There’s a certain art to it; somehow, Ueda can manage to be blunt and improper all he likes, and the girls would all chalk it up to him being adorable in a bratty way. There’s an unfortunate implication there somewhere, but Nakamaru too is guilty of the same infatuation, so he can’t judge anyone. The more Ueda likes to take jabs at him, steals from his plate and makes him pay for all the expenses during their various lunches and dinners over the years, the more endearment Nakamaru feels towards him.
So it completely throws him off when Ueda reaches out at the end of the day and tugs the lapels of Nakamaru’s jacket together so it sits snugly against Nakamaru’s shoulders in the cold air. He even reaches up and dusts something invisible off of Nakamaru’s chest, looking freakishly sincere about it.
It’s madness. If this is a game Ueda is playing, he sure as hell doesn’t know the rules. Furthermore, he’s pretty sure he’s losing, if just from the way his heart flutters at the slight brush of Ueda’s fingers. He should be used to it after all these years, but clearly he’s not.
His brain tries the various scenarios that might have caused this sudden change in behavior. Is this because of what he might have said in the car that night? Worse yet, could they have done something unspeakable, and now Ueda wants to compensate for it? The thoughts almost drive him to hysterics, and he has to swallow when Ueda’s eyes flicker up to meet his.
“Let’s go for dinner sometime this week,” Ueda says. Even his voice has somehow gotten lower, sexier, stirring something awful in Nakamaru’s stomach. “I’ll pay.”
Nakamaru decides quickly that those two words might have been the most attractive he has heard Ueda utter, yet.
**
Nakamaru doesn’t want to talk about his virginity. Obviously. Especially not when the whole J&A seems to be doing so because Junno has sent a master email claiming to ‘protect Yuichi from all the dirty greedy individuals who might want to take Nakamaru’s most precious valuable from him. And Junnohas a sword‘. Kame might have then sent another mass email calling dibs. There is now a waiting list of some sorts.
And during all of this, Ueda has consistently stayed out of it. It’s so out of character that every time Nakamaru tries to rationalize it, it comes back to twist his stomach a little bit more.
Just what had happened that night in the car?
**
As the week drags on, rehearsals continue, the world keeps moving, and nobody has had the heart to drop the subject of Nakamaru’s non-existent sex life, yet. Nakamaru finds himself thinking it’d be better if Ueda has joined the two other clowns he has for bandmates in ripping his dignity to shreds, instead of shooting him inexplicably lingering looks from across the room.
A quiet Ueda is never a good sign.
It’s clear to Nakamaru now that he must have said or done something to Ueda when they were alone in the car that night. If Ueda isn’t talking, then Nakamaru can do it. Or at least, he thinks he can.
“Look, you know I’m an affectionate drunk. I tend to talk nonsense, and there was that one time I tried to kiss Koki to prove I know how to...” Nakamaru is rambling, and he stops himself when Ueda looks at him. He bites his lip, then slides down to the floor to rest until the break is over.
“So, just don’t take it too personally,” Nakamaru finishes, looking down at Ueda. “Please.”
Ueda shakes his head and concentrates on redoing the shoelaces on his sneakers instead. Nakamaru internally panics because maybe it’s not the matter of what Nakamaru had said that night. Maybe he had actually attempted to kiss Ueda that night. And that would have been the worst thing ever.
Ueda isn’t the type to make a fuss, but it would probably still offend him if someone kissed him and then tried to play it down. Nakamaru doesn’t want to play this down. It’s just he needs to know what he should own up to. He needs to be given a chance.
When the rehearsal is over, Nakamaru tries one more time.
“Okay, so maybe it was a bit personal. I can’t be sure if I don’t remember, and you need to--”
Ueda grabs a clean towel from one of the chairs, and he holds Nakamaru’s palm open as he places the towel there, fingers eventually sliding to Nakamaru’s wrist. He then pulls a wet, used towel away from around Nakamaru’s neck. “This one is useless by now,” he says and walks away.
Is Ueda trying to tell him something? Are the things he wants useless? Have the years spent hoping been in vain? This probably means Nakamaru has told Ueda more, more about how much he wants and feels. That would explain why, today, Ueda’s hanging more around Junno, talking to him in hushed tones, being huggedcomfortingly by him around the shoulders. Maybe he’s been feeling sorry at first, but now is burdened by it all.
At the end of the day, Nakamaru catches Ueda in the hallway.
“If you would just tell me what I did or said, that would be great,” Nakamaru says, holding onto the sleeve of Ueda’s leather jacket. “I clearly don’t want you to ignore it. It was nice of you at first since everyone is so vocally amused, but now you are just being a jerk.”
If Ueda just talks, then maybe this years-long infatuation could come to an end. Maybe if Nakamaru actually gets a closure--however it will turn out to be--he could move on. He needs to work this out with Ueda.
“I told you already. You fell asleep in the car,” Ueda says, pulling Nakamaru’s hand away by his wrist, squeezing it a bit too tightly. “The dinner this Friday is still on, right?” he continues, thumb running across the inside of Nakamaru’s wrist before he lets go.
“Yeah,” Nakamaru tries to glare at Ueda, but that has always been more of Ueda’s forte. And he should be mad, especially when Ueda is still being stubborn, but he is once again distracted by how Ueda’s fingers felt on his skin.
**
Nakamaru certainly doesn’t want to talk about his virginity when Akanishi calls, worried and explaining baby Jesuses are only born once every few millenniums. He proclaims himself the resident expert on baby making and sets about to explain how babies are made. Nakamaru cuts him off and is about to hang up--because he seriously doubts Akanishi is worried about his reproduction--when Jin asks for masturbation tips.
"You must be so good at it by now," he sighs, “and Meisa has been a little--" This time Nakamaru really hangs up without preamble.
**
So he still doesn’t want to talk about it when sitting in a surprisingly nice restaurant with Ueda, having that promised dinner. But he would; he would tell Ueda something, or everything. But Ueda doesn’t ever ask, just like he refuses to tell Nakamaru what else he has revealed. He gobbles his food down as fast as ever and then silently eyes Nakamaru’s plate like he’s still starved for it; but he never asks. Nakamaru surrenders his food and stays silent until the dessert is brought out. Dessert! When Ueda promised to pay.
“Okay, so even Akanishi called,” Nakamaru starts eventually. Ueda has automatically ordered him mile-feuille, and it’s so hot. Nakamaru’s feels like a prize girlfriend. And boy, has he sunk low. “Aren’t you going to ask me about this at all?”
Ueda’s lips are wrapped tightly around his dessert spoon. He looks up from his plate, and Nakamaru gulps just as Ueda sucks at the spoon and lets it out his mouth with a pop. That is such a low blow from him. Nakamaru blinks and tries to find his focus again.
“I guess I just prefer you tell me on your own, not just because I asked you. And preferably when sober.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You slur when you’re drunk.”
“I’m sober now,” Nakamaru points out.
“That you are.” Ueda nods and scoops up more of his crêpe cake. “Which means you’re driving today.”
Nakamaru puts his spoon down. He suddenly feels too full, though maybe too full of uninvited emotions. He could just start talking now, he supposes. Let it all out. But maybe Ueda isn’t interested, keeping his thoughts completely to himself. Like this could be just a pity date, or it could be a real date, but it’s not like Nakamaru is going to figure this out without Ueda helping him out.
Ueda really does cover the entire bill. He waits for Nakamaru to slip into his coat and leads himout, even going as far as to open the door for him. Nakamaru sticks his hands deep in his pockets because he has these teenage scenarios running through his head, like his hand brushing against Ueda’s as they walk to where Ueda’s car is. He knows he is blushing, and his mind comes back to that drunken night. By now he’s absolutely sure he spilled all of his secrets,and that this is Ueda’s way of letting him down gently or something. When he looks over at Ueda, looking for some kind of confirmation, he catches Ueda watching himback.
They turn into an empty underground parking then, and Nakamaru stops walking abruptly. He has to get this over with, then maybe the ground will open and swallow him and chew on him long enough that he will be drained of everything and people will no longer remember the events that transpired in the past week.
“Look, I get it,” Nakamaru says when Ueda stops walking and looks back at him. “I told you I loved you, and you are trying to be nice about it. Or giving me a chance to pretend it never happened; I’m not really sure.” Nakamaru takes a deep breath to continue, and he barely notices how Ueda’s eyes open a little wider, how he turns to fully face Nakamaru.
“But I don’t want to pretend,” he trudges on. “And I love you, and yes I would love to be with you, hoped that maybe one day I could be with you. But you’re my friend, and that is important too. I can’t stand this thing.” He waves his hand between them like it explains everything. “Let’s clear the air. I might want to have sex with you too, but only if you really want to be with me, and it wouldn’t just be the sex. And I wasn’t saving myself for you either; it’s not like that. So you don’t have to worry, or be nice. Stop being confusing and go back to making fun of me and using me as your wallet, and being the silly best friend that helps me keep my sanity. Don’t steal it instead.”
That was like a speech from some badly scripted drama, Nakamaru realizes, cringing. In the next moment, he realizes Ueda’s too close and opening his mouth.
“I’m not trying to be nice. You’re so …” Ueda grabs at Nakamaru’s jacket, fingers smoothing down his collar again.
“So what?”Nakamaru asks, suddenly that much more flustered, and he didn’t know that was even possible.
“Why can’t you just know what’s going on? Like you always do.” Ueda sighs. “Look, that night, you just said it was my fault. And now you love me, even. Maybe, I thought about that, just a little, but it all sounds so … out there. Plus, how could you never … not with anyone.” Ueda’s hand falls down from Nakamaru’s collar but grabs at Nakamaru’s wrist instead.
“Does that even make sense to you?” he asks.
“I just don’t date around, okay?” Nakamaru says defensively.
“But you should,” Ueda insists, fingers tightening around the jutting bone on Nakamaru’s wrist. “That’s how this works. So I thought if we’re doing this, then we should do it properly. Like normal people--a date or two, going to see a movie or a play, or maybe I could try and watch one of those damn war documentaries with you. I promise to try not to fall asleep this time.”
“What?” Nakamaru can’t make head or tail of Ueda’s words. “Are you saying…” he trails of
“Why is it such a shock that I would want to act like a decent person? Gentleman or whatever?” Then Ueda pouts, and the intensity of the moment is suddenly gone. Ueda steps back a little and lets go of Nakamaru completely.
“Ueda, you are everything but a gentleman,” Nakamaru says, managing a small snort.
“Then what does that say about your taste,” Ueda retorts, digging around in his pocket.
“I like you mostly for your body and your bank account, don’t you know that?” Nakamaru finds himself saying.
Ueda throws the keys to his car at him and snorts. “That’s really romantic. Very encouraging too.”
“What can I say? I was always the pragmatic one.”
“Says the virgin still waiting for his prince in shining armor to swoop him off his feet.”
“Oh god, I told you it’s not like that,” Nakamaru says indignantly, his ears getting red all over again as he opens the car door on the driver’s side. “So stop that, or I won’t put out.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ueda laughs, winking before sliding to the passenger’s seat, and Nakamaru chokes on nothing. Ueda pats his back, hand sliding down as far as it can go with Nakamaru already sitting down. The trembling in Nakamaru’s stomach startles a question out of him.
“Does this... mean you actually like me?”
Ueda pointedly looks away. “Hmm, do I?” he muses. But Nakamaru’s known Ueda for more than a decade, and he knows when his Ueda-is-lying sensor is tingling. He knows when Ueda is avoiding the inevitable. He knows when Ueda’s teasing and when he is just too macho to admit the truth. Nakamaru realizes he’s smiling and starts the car, deciding not to push his luck anymore. As it is, he doesn’t think the implication of today has sunk in just yet.
**
Two days later, Ueda catches Nakamaru in the break between the rounds of interviews for various magazines they’ve been doing since morning.
“Let’s go somewhere today, after work,” he says almost nonchalantly, only his toe is scuffing against the floor. Nakamaru realizes this isn’t their routine get-together of eating outafter work merely because it’s convenient.
You should date, Ueda has said before.
At the end of the day, Ueda’s held up by their manager, so Nakamaru heads to the exit. He stops in his tracks when he sees the downpour outside, ropes of water falling from the skies and wind knotting them together.
Not five minutes later, Ueda barrels into him. “I thought you’d be outside by now,” he says, palms pressing into Nakamaru’s back where he’d softened his fall. “Oh,” he says next, noticing the rain. Then he is pulling an umbrella that has been tied to the side of his bag. Nakamaru thinks about how weird it is that he even has a bag and an umbrella, and raises an eyebrow. Ueda notices. “What? I had plans, so I checked the weather forecast today. It said light showers in the afternoon.”
They both burst out laughing at that, and Ueda pulls at Nakamaru’s elbow with one hand, lifting the umbrella above them with the other. They start walking quick steps towards Ueda’s car while the wind slams into them, and Nakamaru can feel his side getting wet.
“Way to ruin all my plans,” he hears Ueda grumble petulantly. Then a hand sneaks around Nakamaru’s waist and pulls him closer to Ueda’s side, fingers splayed under his ribs. Nakamaru’s breath hitches, and Ueda stumbles a little in reaction. “Keep up,” he mumbles.
They get to the car, and Ueda should be searching for his car keys. But instead he’s holding the umbrella above them with one hand, the other still firmly wrapped around Nakamaru’s side, keeping him close even when Nakamaru turns to face him, intent on saying something.
The umbrella might as well not be there, what with the strong wind and heavy rain pelting down, soaking their jeans and their shoulders. Nakamaru breathes in--he can smell the rain, the wet autumn leaves and Ueda’s aftershave--and for a moment, he forgets what he wanted to say.
“Key,” he mutters when Ueda presses him closer, his hand suddenly at the small of Nakamaru’s back.
“Oh. Right. Keys,” Ueda exhales, warm breath against Nakamaru’s neck, and he lets go of Nakamaru, handing him the umbrella sohe can dig around in his back pocket.
“Should have taken them out while we were inside,” Nakamaru says, just to fill the silence. When he hears the door unlock, he steps back and lets Ueda in, thenrunsquickly to the passenger’s side.
Once in the car, Ueda busies himself with rummaging around thebackseat, swearing under his breath and throwing random things to the front.
“Honestly, this is a sign. I should never try doing things like this. You’re all wet, and it’s getting late, and I bet they’ll be closed by the time we get there,” he finally emerges from the back, a towel in his hand. He moves to unbutton Nakamaru’s jacket and shirt, and Nakamaru squeaks involuntarily. Ueda pulls his hands away for a moment. The car windows fog with their breaths, and the air gets stiff in the car.
“The towel’s clean,” Ueda says, moving again. “I promise I haven’t gone to the gym since I put the bag into the car. Let’s just get you dry a bit.” He seems to work on some kind of autopilot, determined to get things done as thoughhe is on some kind of schedule. He assesses Nakamaru’s shirt and, probably deeming it relatively dry, rubs the towel over Nakamaru’s neck, pulling the wet jacket away from him next and replacing it with his after-workout hoodie.
Finally, he rubs the towel on his own jeans and gives it back to Nakamaru. “Finish drying off,” he instructs as he turns to the steering wheel and starts the car.
Nakamaru wants to say something, but he is surrounded by Ueda’s scent, and he’s still too dizzy with everything that has just happened. He glances over at Ueda, who is biting his lip in concentration, watching the GPS calculate his route.
“We might make it just yet,” he says determinedly.
**
They do make it, and by the time they stop by a big gate leading to what seems to be a private park and a pond, Nakamaru is warm and almost dry, the heating in the car having been turned up to chase the cold away. It’s stopped raining, and during the drive, Ueda had reverted to his usual self, singing to the radio and making jabs at how slow some of the drivers were. In the meantime, Nakamaru managed to convince himself that this was a date a hundred times, only to then dismiss the idea immediately afterwards. If only Ueda could stop being so uncanny about it, especially when it’s just the two of them.
“Let’s go,” Ueda says, and glances at his watch. They get out of the car, butUeda doesn’t lead him towards the park, instead walking to a booth on the surrounding sidewalk. Hurry up,” he urges, grabbing onto the sleeve of the hoodie Nakamaru’s wearing.
The booth ends up being anice cream stand. “Last day of their season. The best ice cream in Japan,” Ueda explains.
“So for today, you planned on getting me sick by eating ice cream and walking in the rain?” Nakamaru asks, but his eyes are laughing.
Ueda glowers just a little. “If you don’t want any, that’s fine with me. I like cheap dates.”
Nakamaru’s inside feels that much warmer then, the admittance settling in his stomach and pleasantly buzzing there. “Ah, no way. I’m pretty high maintenance,” he says, and orders two big scoops of vanilla.
It gets dark as they walk back to the gate, and when they arrive, Ueda talks to the person sitting in the booth by the gate. Eventually it opens, and they enter. The park is well lit, and the wide path leads to the pondthat had been in view this entire time.
Nakamaru starts getting nervous again, a million scenarios running through his head, because this is kind of … romantic, and that seems somehow unfair because no one prepared him for ‘romantic’this morning. He would have worn different socks and think of things to say, but now he’s just silently licking ice cream that is admittedly great, but can’t keep him from working himself into overdrive.
He is startled out of his thoughts by his phone chiming and absently pulls it out to look.
{You should have told me,} says the message, complete with a weeping emoticon. {I would have made a great first time!}
“What the hell?” Nakamaru groans. “You told Koki??”
Ueda bites his lip. He doesn’t look guilty at all.
“Hm? Could have been Taguchi…” he murmurs, eyes staring right through Nakamaru’s face to gaze thoughtfully at the pond. Nakamaru stares morosely at the melting ice cream in his hand instead.
“There you go,” Ueda pats his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Be happy your virginity has helped reunite two people. It’s not something that happens often.”
“I can’t believe I thought it’d be a good thing if you got in on all the torment too,” Nakamaru mutters.
Ueda laughs at him then, and--when rounding a vacant corner toward the rail along the pond--reaches out to lace his fingers with Nakamaru’s. They stop under the shade of a big willow tree. Nakamaru’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he has to look wildly around, hoping it comes across as a cautious move rather than that he’s literally losing every nerve he possesses. Ueda’s palm is warm, too warm, and his grip numbs the tips of Nakamaru’s fingers.
“You know,” Ueda giggles quietly into Nakamaru’s shoulder, as if anyone could listen in on them right now. “Your face when you’re embarrassed, it’s hilarious.”
Don’t say it like it’s not your fault, Nakamaru thinks. He’s not sure how exactly he looks right now, but he still proceeds to scowl, pulling the corners of his mouth downwards as if it will stop the warmth from spreading throughout his torso.
He gasps--literally, and he never thought anyone would do that in real life--when he feels Ueda’s lips move around to press against his clavicle. They part slightly, enough for Ueda to breathe burning puffs of air against the thin fabric of Nakamaru’s shirt, breaths that creep upward towards his shoulder blade, leaving indented impressions in the form of goosebumps in their wake.
“W-We’re in public, for goodness’ sake!” Nakamaru’s whisper quakes slightly.
“Not really,” Ueda replies, his voice sending deep trembles right down to Nakamaru’s toes. “This is a private property, and it’s unlikely anyone would come out here this late.”
But he still leaves Nakamaru’s shoulder alone in favor of staring at his profile instead. When Nakamaru looks down at him, there’s a torn expression on his face.
“Do you like it here?” Ueda asks then, his fingers squeezing around Nakamaru’s once more.
“Yeah, I do.” Nakamaru nods, trying to ground himself. He crunches on the last piece of his ice cream, and Ueda watches, tongue peeking out, his own ice cream long gone.
“Here,” Ueda says then, his voice low again, and he runs his thumb across Nakamaru’s bottom lip. “You had a crumb there.”
Nakamaru’s lips feel sticky and he licks at them, catching Ueda’s thumb still lingering in the corner of his mouth. Ueda’s hand against his chin trembles and he steps closer. Nakamaru holds his breath. Ueda moves his thumb, running it across Nakamaru’s cheek and down to his chin. The tips of Ueda’s shoes hit Nakamaru’s.
“Breathe,” Ueda mutters, but he doesn’t really give Nakamaru much chance to do so, hislips then pressing into the corner of Nakamaru’s own. Ueda’s ice cream had been strawberry flavored, and it goes nicely with vanilla on Nakamaru’s tongue that licks out again to taste more. But then Ueda is gently sucking at it, pulling Nakamaru down and closer by his hand, and Nakamaru jerks away. His heart is beating in his throat, and Nakamaru’s reeling because he’s kissed Ueda, who is still holding his hand.
He’s breathing hard, probably too hard; and he is about to burst from inside out. Ueda is staring at him, a dark, inexplicable stare in the shade of faraway streetlight. He looks at Nakamaru like that’s the only way he has ever looked at him, as if Nakamaru has been looking another way all this time. He’s on the verge of some kind of realization, but Ueda’s hand holding onto his is still tight and so warm, and it pulls him back every time he teeters over the edge.
The look in Ueda’s eyes disappears, however. He suddenly doubles over and laughs, and Nakamaru isn’t sure if he’s terrified or disappointed.
“Oh gosh,” Ueda wheezes, leaning into him for support.“Your face. How do you make all those expressions? I don’t know if it’s your nose or your mouth or... something.”
Nakamaru doesn’t laugh with him.
“That’s not funny,” he breathes. His voice has evaporated completely. Why does his throat feel so dry?
That seems to sober Ueda up, nonetheless. He straightens, his hand leaving Nakamaru’s, and when his eyes flicker back at him, something like guilt flits through his expression.
“Let’s go back,” Ueda says. “I’ll drive you home.”
Nakamaru bites his lips as they trail their way back to the car, watching their shadows striping the road.
**
In a sudden fit of inspiration--or recklessness, it’s not too clear which it is--Nakamaru decides to invite Ueda over to watch on of ‘those damned war documentaries’ that Ueda is against so much. The ten minutes he’d had to wait for Ueda’s reply had been torture. He’d sat on the edge of the bed, staring intensely at the envelope icon on his phone screen like it had stepped on his dog’s tail.
Would it have been better if he had chosen a different movie? The point is that he wants to establish to Ueda that things are still normal between them--status of relationship notwithstanding. Even when he had gushed his feelings to Ueda, even when the act of simply holding Ueda’s hand now bears a different meaning...
But when he admits this to Massu during their regular lunch date, his action is suddenly put into a completely different perspective.
“It’s a booty call,” Massu nods, having concluded his argument.
“No. No, it’s not.That’s not...” Nakamaru talks into his hands. Why everyone and their mothers are utterly interested if he gets some is beyond his comprehension. Massu, of all people, has insisted on sitting him down for what he dubbed a “pep talk”. And here Nakamaru has counted on him to be the only safe dock in all of this sea of insanity.
He sighs heavily.
“Come on, man,” Massu urges on, nose pressed into the dessert menu. “You’re practically glowing with anticipation.”
The restaurant buzzes in the background, and it just serves to unnerve Nakamaru even more. He looks down at his hands, relieved to see they’re not glowing in any way. His palms still look relatively normal, if not actually a little pale. And clammy, he notes, clenching and unclenching them tentatively.
It isn’t like he was expecting anything to happen. Sure, it’s nerve-wrecking; he’s very well aware that it’s technically a date--a date!--and last time, when Ueda had kissed him...
Why had he leaned away? It didn’t make any sense. He likes Ueda--everything with Ueda is easy. The occasional thought of simply being with Ueda excites him more than the one where a really hot woman just comes out of nowhere and start making out with him...
“And now you’re blushing,” Massu says quickly, his voice low--thankall the almighty gods--just as the waitress comes back with their food. Nakamaru buries his face in his hands, hoping to blend into the table via osmosis. He waits until the food has been set down on the table to look up--three main courses on Massu’s side, and a plate of steak on his--to find Massu already pulling out chopsticks.
“Look, I know it’s scary, but if Ueda is someone you really like, you’ll enjoy it.” Massu can’t even bring himself to elaborate what it means. “You’re lucky he’s gotten so much hotter lately.”
“Ugh. Why are you talking about Ueda like we’re in a teen movie? And of course I will enjoy it because it will be a colored two-hour long documentary about Second World War that actually features the machineries of the warfare. The only action going on will be his firm biceps on top of my soft beanbag, all night long!”
Massu makes a face of distaste. “Are you even listening to yourself right now?”
At least Massu isn’t pressing his face to Nakamaru’s, desperate for some details. Nakamaru feels himself blush, his fingers flexing around the fork and knife like they have the power to defend what’s left of his dignity.
“Nothing. Will. Happen,” he presses, surprising himself with the low baritone his voice manages to hit. “We’re just going to watch a war movie--”
“Yeah, yeah, if that’s what you want to call it,” Massu cuts in, voice muffled from his mouth stuffed full of food.
Nakamaru shuts his eyes, and once again he inwardly curses the evil man who had first thought alcohol was going to be good for mankind.
**
When Ueda comes over, and they sit down to watch the documentary of Nakamaru’s choice--each conveniently on the opposite side of Nakamaru’s couch--it’s mostly nerves talking on Nakamaru’s behalf.
“Okay, so in this scene, they got the time wrong. It wasn’t 10th March, it was actually--what?”
“Nothing,” Ueda says.
Nakamaru has no idea how long Ueda has been smirking. He doesn’t drop it even when he starts giggling at Nakamaru’s expense. “Have anyone told you how annoying you are when you watch TV?”
“Yes. You do, every time we watch something together.”
Ueda is still smirking as he takes a sip of his beer. “That’s because you talk over things the whole time, like some kind of commentary that doesn’t shut up. How do you even find that many things to talk about?”
Nakamaru huffs, his nostrils flaring.
“Just tell me straight that you want me to shut up.”
“I never said that I want you to shut up,” Ueda laughs. “I just find it amusing, is all.”
“Well then,” Nakamaru turns his nose up, not sure if he’s immensely pleased, or extremely irritated. “If that’s the case, I’ll never shut up.”
“Fine by me,” Ueda chuckles.
“Fine.”
But there are just so many things one can talk about regarding the subject of machineries without going too deep into the back story of it all, and Nakamaru is not that enthusiastic in sharing his knowledge with someone who just finds it amusing. Halfway through the documentary, all the food but the now-cold popcorn is gone, and Nakamaru’s quieted down. The only sounds in the room are coming from the television, and Nakamaru expects Ueda to be sleeping in his corner of the couch.
When he turns to check, he finds Ueda wide awake, nursing the same bottle of beer Nakamaru has given him when he came. It must be disgustingly warm and void of any fizz by now. Ueda seems comfortable enough, lightly leaning on the armrest and his bare feet up on the sofa between them. Nakamaru’s always thought his big toes are kind of huge. When he looks up, he finds out Ueda’s caught him staring.
“Don’t tell me my toes are more interesting than mid-twentieth century war strategies,” he says, laughing a little and stretching his leg so that his toes poke Nakamaru’s thigh.
“Maybe not your toes …” Nakamaru starts, then stops himself before he says something cheesy like ‘but you are.’ His heartbeat is picking up speed again, so he decides it’s time for exit strategies.
“Let me get you another beer,” he mutters and makes to get up.
“I’m fine,” Ueda says quickly, leaning forward to put the bottle on the table and effectively blocking Nakamaru’s way into the kitchen. “Let’s just get this program over with,” he adds.
“Oh, right,” Nakamaru says, backing up, but then Ueda’s hand is pulling on his own. When Nakamaru fights to keep his balance, Ueda yanks at him, hard. Nakamaru clambers onto the couch and Ueda’s thighs. He elbows Ueda in the stomach in the process and hears him wince.
“Seriously, take a hint,” Ueda sighs and scoots back, maneuvering Nakamaru like he’s a battle ship on the map of the world’s oceans, until Ueda’s squished against the backrest with his hand wrapped around Nakamaru’s waist and head on his shoulder to see the TV screen, puffs of breaths skidding over Nakamaru’s neck. Nakamaru feels more like a submarine than a ship though, submerged deep into the water, gallons of it closed over him and pushing him down.
“Calm down. I’m sure you’ve cuddled before,” Ueda murmurs, his hand sliding against Nakamaru’s stomach and drawing small circles.
“I’m just surprised you are not asleep,” Nakamaru says indignantly. Of course he has cuddled before. But not like this, with him being spooned, and not with Ueda, who he has been in love with for so long.
“I figured that we haven’t been dating for long enough, and it wouldn’t be too appropriate. Don’t get used to it though,” Ueda laughs again, and bites Nakamaru’s shoulder playfully.
Nakamaru’s long lost focus, and he has no idea what is happening on his TV screen. He squirms against Ueda’s hold and tries to bury himself into the couch in the hopes that it will swallow him.
“We’re dating?” He asks, immediately hitting himself mentally because of how stupid that sounds.
Ueda grabs Nakamaru by both of his hips, and maneuvers him around again until Nakamaru’s lying on his back. Ueda looks down at him from above, eyes swimming with amusement and something like wonder. There’s something that resembles--but no, that’s impossible--fondness in the way his features soften for a moment before he speaks again.
“Yes,” Ueda finally says, decidedly. “And I find it absolutely cute that you are blushing over it.” He leans down, sporting that look again that makes Nakamaru think of strawberry ice cream and kisses, and in a hysterical fit of panic, he dodges. Ueda reacts instantly, hand pressed against Nakamaru’s cheek, but only so he can touch their noses together, laughing under his breath as he does so.
“You’re so unfair,” Nakamaru sighs. “It’s not like I want a love song or anything. But at least you could...”
At least he could tell Nakamaru how he feels, instead of covering it up with lip bites and snorts and insufferable observations.
“I don’t need you to stare at me all the time, like I have this endless fund of expressions and faces that you need to study constantly and catalogue them away. It’s creepy how you keep doing that…” Like you can’t stop looking, Nakamaru wants to say, but he doesn’t.
“Heh, I never knew you’d be the troublesome type,” Ueda mutters. The shock when he leans down has more or less guaranteed that Nakamaru’s head barely twitches when Ueda closes his eyes and his lips hover just above Nakamaru’s own. Nakamaru waits for the slick inner edge of Ueda’s lips to touch, but it never does.
"How about this?" Comes the low voice near Nakamaru’s ear, making him inhale a large lungful of air.
“Nakamaru...”
Exhale.
“...Yuichi...”
Inhale.
“I love you.”
The impact of it comes full force even though he has tried to prepare himself mentally.
He hasn’t anticipated the rush of breath, the disappearance of personal space, and the obliteration of his self-awareness. Ueda occupies his entire field of vision, his shadow eclipsing Nakamaru’s universe when his lower lip is crushed between Ueda’s teeth.
Ueda’s hand draws his fingers together, pulling them towards the familiar shape of Ueda’s waist in a wordless demand. Nakamaru complies, squeezing lightly before finding the gap between Ueda's shirt and jeans, and he slips his fingers to meet warm skin.
His hand stays there for a while, feeling the rise and fall of Ueda’s stomach as they kiss, Ueda’s hand on Nakamaru’s cheek and then in his hair. He sucks on Nakamaru’s lip and kisses down his neck before returning to press their lips together again.
“Ue--Tatsuya--” Nakamaru tries to say when Ueda pulls away for longer than a second. His eyes wander to Ueda’s, finding them staring directly back at him, Ueda’s quickened breath in perfect rhythm with Nakamaru’s own.
“Are we? Are we doing this right now?” Nakamaru licks his lip, his fingers still splayed under Ueda’s shirt, lips swollen, and body heavy with all the emotion.
“Do you want to?” Ueda asks in return. “We could. But only if you really wanted to.”
Does he want to?
“It’s you--” Nakamaru takes a deep breath, trying to swallow and failing miserably. He circles the slope of Ueda’s tummy with his thumb--which is trembling, feeling the muscles there flex with each careful touch.
“If it’s with you, I’d always--”
Ueda cuts him off by reaching out and pulling him against his mouth again. He might as well, since Nakamaru was just being extremely lame and cheesy. This is better. Nakamaru inhales through his nose, letting Ueda climb completely on top of him. Fingertips graze his face again, and he is suddenly too overwhelmed by the jarring, though still calculated excitement of Ueda’s every movement.
“We’re moving,” Ueda whispers suddenly, and Nakamaru is disoriented, head spinning when Ueda pushes off him and hauls him up too fast.
“Oh,” he mutters when Ueda wraps his arms around him from behind and spins him to face the hallway leading to his bedroom. Ueda pushes them forward, warm lips kissing down Nakamaru’s neck and over the curve of his shoulder, fingers pulling at his shirt so he can reach his shoulder blade. “I’m so glad you bought this huge bed back then,” Ueda mutters when Nakamaru is faced with the said bed at last.
“Sometimes it’s a little too big,” Nakamaru says, and he doesn’t know why that slipped out in this particular moment, but then Ueda is in front of him again, eyes serious, pulling him to sit down beside him.
“Not now though,” he says, and then he’s kissing Nakamaru again, his fingers struggling with the small buttons on Nakamaru’s shirt.
“You really didn’t think your clothes choice through tonight,” Ueda mutters, sounding almost vexed. In the end, he just grabs the hem of Nakamaru’s shirt. “Up,” he orders, and then pulls it over Nakamaru’s head. He does the same with his t-shirt, and Nakamaru automatically goes to touch.
Ueda’s body is so different from his own--less wiry and more defined muscles, skin taut over them when he moves. He leans down, kissing from one of Nakamaru’s shoulders to the other, tongue licking at the skin. Nakamaru watches, one hand in Ueda’s hair, the other running down his spine. Pride swells in his throat when Ueda shivers, and he counts Ueda’s vertebrae, this time from the bottom up towards his neck. He gasps when Ueda’s tongue circles his nipple, and his skin flushes because this is happening; Ueda’s touching him, leaning into him more and more, and he has thought about this so many times.
“Stop thinking, your face is weird again,” Ueda mumbles against his ribs then, and Nakamaru laughs, completely breathless, because he kind of gets it now.
“You could always stop looking,” he barely manages to say because Ueda’s teeth are scraping down his ribs.
“Nah, I don’t want to do that,” Ueda says, lips pressing insistently against skin, and then he sucks a bruise into Nakamaru’s side. By now he’s almost sprawled across Nakamaru’s lap. Nakamaru falls back, whimpering and clutching on Ueda’s shoulders while Ueda’s mouth moves even lower, fingers skimming along the waistline of his jeans. “I want to look.”
Nakamaru’s breath leaves him in a rush when he hears the sound of his own zipper. Ueda isn’t careful about it, dragging the jeans down along with Nakamaru’s underwear quickly. Nakamaru yelps, and tries to cover himself, but Ueda just pushes his hands away, one palm running down Nakamaru’s thigh, the other rubbing over his cock that hardens more under the attention. Ueda lifts his head then, watching Nakamaru’s face while he keeps his hands busy on him. His stare is unnerving, and Nakamaru shouldn’t be this nervous. He tries to swallow it down, leaning up on his elbows and pulling Ueda back up to kiss him.
“You’re so skinny,” Ueda murmurs, crawling up over him completely, one thigh between Nakamaru’s, one elbow pressed into the mattress next to Nakamaru’s ear.
“You’re one to talk,” Nakamaru whispers back, both of his hands settling on Ueda’s hips and squeezing for effect. Ueda moans at that, and Nakamaru’s eyes widen in pleasant surprise. He presses his fingers deeper, earning a hiss, but Ueda only keeps kissing his lips, his neck, sucking yet another bruise behind Nakamaru’s ear. His clothed thigh rubs against Nakamaru’s cock, fabric too harsh against it. Still, Nakamaru can’t bring himself to do something about it, too focused on the way they move together, hips slowly meeting and Nakamaru’s hands mapping Ueda’s body, learning what noises he makes when Nakamaru scrapes nails down his back, rubs his nipple with a thumb or pulls at Ueda’s thick lips with his teeth.
Nakamaru doesn’t know how long they stay like that, and he’s only pulled back from his reverie when Ueda pulls at his hair, back arching, chest rising higher and hip digging painfully against Nakamaru’s own. Ueda’s breathing is frantic, his neck is flushed, and Nakamaru feels sweaty skin under his fingers. He runs his hand through Ueda’s hair, pushes the damp fringe of his forehead and marvels at how much Ueda wants him. He’s so lost in it, that his own pleasure comes in spikes, always bursting under his skin and in his stomach, jarring.
“Can’t take this,” Ueda mumbles, pushing away. He starts opening his own jeans, and Nakamaru joins with his hands, wanting to do this. Ueda practically hisses at it, quickly moving to the side to drag the pants down his legs, pulling something out of the pocket and then kicking them off the bed along with his boxers. He stays on his side, next to Nakamaru, and grabs his hand, thumb pressing on the inside of Nakamaru’s palm.
“Your fingers, they’re so …” he trails off, sucking two of them into his mouth. Nakamaru watches that in awe too, his other hand slowly running up Ueda’s hip, then towards his cock. Fingers, he manages to think, and trails only one of them up Ueda’s cock, thick and slightly curved, and so damn hard for him; for Nakamaru. He shivers at the thought of what could happen, and it’s then that Ueda pulls at his chin, making him look into his face. His lips are wrapped tight against Nakamaru’s fingers, shiny and wet, and he sucks hard. Nakamaru almost jumps on the bed then moans loudly.
“I want them inside me,” Ueda says, voice ruined, when he pulls Nakamaru’s wrist away, “now.”
It’s then that Nakamaru’s hit with a wave of panic. Ueda’s so hot, and he makes it sound so, so good, but Nakamaru’s only ever known the theory behind this. Instead of replying or doing something, he jerks away, face turned into a pillow.
“Yuichi,” Ueda soothes him with a hand in his hair, then rubbing down his neck. “Look at me.”
Nakamaru does, deep blush in his face because he’s ruining the mood. There’s that fondness in Ueda’s eyes again.
“Would you rather watch me at first?” Ueda asks, and Nakamaru’s breath hitches; he’s lost track of how many times that has happened today. It’s so embarrassing, how he still wants it, so much. Ueda’s hand trails down Nakamaru’s shoulder, over his chest and stomach, stroking his cock again, two, three times. Then he is lying on his back, his other hand grabbing the small bottle he dropped from his pocket before. Lube, Nakamaru realizes and trembles again. “Come here,” Ueda spreads his legs, bending his knees.
Ueda’s so hot, open and relaxed, lying on Nakamaru’s bed like he belongs there. “You’re so hot.” Nakamaru says it out loud, not even recognizing his voice. He tries to cover his face again in embarrassment, but Ueda only smirks a little, like he knows that, and okay he probably does. He pulls at Nakamaru’s elbow, and then Nakamaru’s kneeling between Ueda’s spread legs, Ueda’s upper body propped on a pillow. He lifts one of his legs, calf landing on Nakamaru’s shoulder, and Nakamaru gets distracted by his thigh, kissing it on an urge, sucking on the inside, mouth moving from his knee and higher.
“Fuck,” Ueda hisses again, hips lifting. “Fuck.” It’s more high pitched the second time, and Nakamaru looks up just in time to see a finger disappear inside Ueda, wrinkled skin pulsing around it. It’s a painfully slow slide in, and Nakamaru can’t look away. His mouth opens, but he can’t say anything, barely managing to inhale and exhale. Ueda’s hand is twisted uncomfortably, and the finger moves inside him shallowly, not much deeper than up to the first knuckle. Nakamaru doesn’t realize his hand comes up to Ueda’s other knee, pushing it to the side, more out of the way. Ueda groans and adds another finger, tries to push his hips up into them, but he can barely move like this.
“I …” he starts, almost sobbing while Nakamaru keeps leaving fluttering kisses on the calf on his shoulder, but still watching. Nakamaru looks into Ueda’s face, and Ueda’s eyes are narrow slits, his bottom lip in between his teeth, and his whole upper body is heaving with his breaths. “Do you want to try,” Ueda tries saying again, and Nakamaru barely hears it. He sees the bottle of lube on the side, and yes he wants to try so he grabs for it, but then freezes again. “Fuck, please, your fingers, they are so long, so perfect,” Ueda keeps mumbling, his own fingers scissoring and moving up his ass. “Please, please, fuck.”
Nakamaru uncaps the bottle, coats his fingers, and it feels like in a slow motion sequence. Then Ueda’s leg drops from his shoulder, trying to drape itself around Nakamaru’s waist and pull him closer like that. Nakamaru grabs his ankle and puts the calf back where it was.
In the end, his point finger pushes along Ueda’s fingers too fast. He knows it by the way Ueda jerks a little and whimpers. Nakamaru tries to pull back.
“No.” Ueda sounds so broken, and his clean hand wraps around Nakamaru’s wrist, “keep going,”
Ueda’s hot and slick with lube inside, walls contracting against Nakamaru’s knuckle as he pushes deeper, then pulls back a little, and repeats. Again and again, until Ueda pulls his own fingers away, guiding two more of Nakamaru’s in before he pulls his knees to his chest.
“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he murmurs, rolling his hips down the best he can. Nakamaru feels the heat around his fingers and imagines it, tight and perfect around his cock, and fuck now he wants that too, scooting closer until his spread thighs are touching Ueda’s sides underneath his ass. Ueda’s next moan breaks into a high-pitched whine, and Nakamaru feels why, fingers brushing against what must be Ueda’s prostate.
Oh. He presses against it on purpose and watches how the theory he knows plays out in reality, Ueda’s back snapping into a sharp curve despite the awkward position.
“Stop, stop,” he mumbles, hitting Nakamaru’s hand away. “Or I’ll come just like this.” Nakamaru groans at the idea.
“Could I,” he starts, and immediately feels horrified.
“God, yes, yes, you damn well can,” Ueda groans, frustration and want and abandon all lacing his voice, now much deeper. He lets his legs fall a little, propping himself up on one elbow and opening the lube. When his palm, rough despite the slickness, drags up Nakamaru’s cock, he has to close his eyes against the pleasure. “So hard for me,” Ueda says, and he sounds almost cheeky, only he’s too turned on to pull it off. He strokes Nakamaru a little more before falling back down onto the pillows, his legs coming up again.
“Do it now,” he mutters, one hand finding Nakamaru’s fingers on the bed.
Nakamaru guides his own cock against Ueda’s ass, and at first he doesn’t push enough, the head of his cock sliding between Ueda’s cheeks. He bites his lip, ears burning in embarrassment, before scooting closer. This time, the head of his cock pushes inside, but he stops immediately, scared to go too fast again. Ueda’s walls constrict around him, and he sobs, one leg coming around Nakamaru’s waist again, heel pushing into the small of his back.
“More,” Ueda gets out, eyes closed tightly, fingers almost hurting Nakamaru’s with how tight they’re squeezing his own. Nakamaru pushes deeper, keeps going until his balls stick to Ueda’s ass. Ueda’s fingers clench and relax, much the same way his insides feel against Nakamaru’s cock, pulsing.
It’s already too much of pressure, and Nakamaru’s so wound up; he now realizes he’s not going to last at all, about to embarrass himself again. Ueda feels too good like this, and Nakamaru’s body shivers with the need to move. Ueda’s fingers relax and lace with Nakamaru’s.
“Move,” he breathes out, almost deflates as he does so, and Nakamaru pulls back a little, presses back in--tries it again and again until the slow pressure in the pit of his stomach urges him to go faster. It’s amazing, the drag of Ueda’s walls against his cock, the slapping sounds Ueda’s ass makes against the skin of his thighs--Nakamaru moves faster and faster, eyes trained on where his cock disappears into Ueda. He hears Ueda’s gasps and hiccupping moans, and he is so close, moving frantically. When he moves forward over Ueda, he overdoes it again, his cock slipping out and sliding against Ueda’s own instead of inside him.
“Fuck,” he mutters.This too is good, Ueda’s cock against his, rubbing and chafing together. He collapses forward even more, and Ueda’s other hand wraps around his neck, elbow hooking around it as he brings Nakamaru closer and sucks on his tongue. Nakamaru tries to breath, tries to move back inside Ueda, who now has both of his legs wrapped around him, but all it does is pressing him more into Ueda’s body.
And just like that, he’s coming, long moan swallowed by Ueda’s mouth, Ueda’s nails digging into the top of his hands and his body writhing. Ueda sticks a hand between them and jerks him through it, pulling on his cock until Nakamaru squirms away from the touch. He tries catching his breath, tries not collapsing against Ueda, but he does anyway. Ueda’s hard cock is trapped between them, and that’s how he knows he hasn’t come yet, and Nakamaru’s the worst lay ever.
“No, I’m sorry, fuck, I--” Ueda only drags him close again, swiping his tongue into his mouth.
“Shhhh, just help me out a little,” he mumbles, sounding still breathless and so, so wrecked. He guides Nakamaru’s fingers towards his ass again, and Nakamaru gasps, but gets it, dipping inside Ueda again. Ueda sighs, his own hand closing around his cock. Nakamaru sets a steady pace, listens to Ueda as he moans in approval.
“Harder, Yuichi, faster,” he mutters and then “yes, yes, yes right there,” when Nakamaru manages to find his prostate again. When Ueda comes, he throws his head back, throat working over almost inaudible moans and whimpers. Nakamaru leans down and mouths the thick vein on Ueda’s neck, enjoying the way Ueda’s whole body flutters with pleasure and fingers working inside him for as long as Ueda’s hand moves on his own cock. Ueda’s walls tighten around his fingers, and next time he wants to feel that around his cock, may want to feel Ueda’s cock inside himself too, and then maybe he wants Ueda’s cock in his mouth because it’s so prettily curved.
Ueda huffs out a laugh. “You can blow me any time, Yuichi,” he says, still breathless, and Nakamaru’s whole face burns because he’s said that out loud.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, petulant, into Ueda’s skin.
Ueda pats his ass, then rolls from underneath him. “We’re all sticky,” he explains, and wobbles out of the room and into Nakamaru’s bathroom. He comes back and cleans them both with warm wet towel, kissing Nakamaru’s hip, his stomach and then his fingers in the process. Nakamaru blinks away the memory of those fingers in Ueda’s mouth and concentrates on slow, calm breaths. Ueda climbs back to bed with him, discarding the comforter and climbing under the blankets.
“At least everyone will shut up about popping your cherry now,” he mumbles before he drapes his leg around Nakamaru’s thighs and falls asleep.
**
The next morning, Nakamaru wakes up first. He feels self-conscious lying next to Ueda, lightly snoring and spread out on most of Nakamaru’s bed. Part of him wants to stay, maybe move closer, but he’s so distressed remembering all the things he didn’t do perfectly last night that instead he gets up, grabs a pair of clean underwear and starts picking up all of their discarded clothes, finding his cellphone from the pile and placing it on the nightstand, fishing his socks from under the bed.
When he’s done, he notices a piece of paper, folded into a small square on the floor. When open, it turns out to be the “Deflowering of Nakamaru Yuichi Waiting List,” names scribbled down by hand. Kame’s name is at the top of the list in his neat writing. Some of the names make him blush as he curiously--and guiltily--deciphers them. Others he can’t even read because every single one of them is angrily crossed over with a red marker. The same red marker that Nakamaru now notices lying underneath his bedside table.
In the next moment, he almost jumps out of his skin because a hand slides down his spine.
“What are you doing, not sleeping?” Ueda asks, sounding still half asleep himself, and starts pulling Nakamaru back to bed by the waistband of his underwear.
“Where did you get this?” Nakamaru asks, scooting back against the headboard and waiving the list around.
Ueda looks at the paper then groans into the pillow. “I stole it from Kame,” he says, voice muffled. “You didn’t want to talk about it,” he adds. Nakamaru pokes his cheek, trying to make Ueda look at him. “Fine, I hated them talking about it too,” Ueda mutters.
Nakamaru feels like laughing out loud. He still doesn’t want to talk about his virginity. Even less so now, given that it doesn’t exist anymore. His phone chimes, and he reaches for it.
{Congratulations on becoming a man ;D} the message from Massu says. Nakamaru groans. Ueda peeks at the screen, sees the message, and steals the phone from Nakamaru’s hands.
{If you want the dirt, here it is: It was fucking awesome. Now shut up about it. - Ueda} he types quickly, hits the send button and throws the phone across the room.
Nakamaru gapes, though more at the unexpected praise than at the fact his phone is probably dead. Where are his priorities?
“Now get back here, so I can give you the best head of your life,” Ueda orders.
“I knew I loved you for a reason,” Nakamaru sighs.
Ueda laughs really hard, his jaw almost unhinging in the process. “Oh baby, you know nothing, yet.”
From: sashjun & sekky_chan
Title: Give Me What I Don’t Know
Pairings/Characters: Nakamaru/Ueda
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unrealistic premise because we all know Nakamaru is secretly very much desirable and probably regularly gets some.
Notes:hyphen_chan has found himself in possession of an extra fic and decided to post it for everyone’s enjoyment.
However, a special dedication goes to je_levy, who has become one of Hyphen-chan’s alter egos this year and has not only done an amazing job, but also kept one other old, grumpy and bitter alterego sane. Overall, she has been lovely, kind person and amazing enthusiast, and has cemented the creation of her own fun club in the process. Dear Levy, Team Triple S hopes you enjoy this despite knowing of this premise for some time now. We had fun exploring it ♥ 10 198 words
Summary: When Nakamaru drunkenly admits to being thirty year old virgin, all hell breaks loose.
Alcohol is the most evil product mankind has ever subjected itself to, Nakamaru thinks.
There is absolutely nothing worse than waking up with what feels like cement poured into his brain through his eyes, accompanied by the vague horror that somehow he must have eaten an entire tube of toothpaste and his tongue now feels like coarse scrubbing brush coated in mint.
As it turns out, the massive hangover isn’t the worst, not by a long shot. Nakamaru shuts his eyes behind the sunglasses-where did all this light come from? Slowly, he opens the door to their dressing room and comes face to face with a hyperactive Junno swinging a rolled up gossip magazine like a sword. Nakamaru’s poor reflexes don’t prevent him from being smacked across the face withit.
“From now on, I will protect your virtue with all my might,” Junno proclaims unapologetically, arms spread wide.
“What is he talking about?”Nakamaru asks a sleepy Ueda, who is right behind him. For a change it had been Nakamaru who drank and Ueda who drove last night, and the consequences seem to be lethal. Ueda just shrugs, eyes crossing in on Nakamaru’s nose.
Even in a state of being half brain dead, Nakamaru knows he’s lying.
Kame pushes both of them from the doorway and pats Nakamaru on his butt.
“If you ever feel in need of deflowering, I will volunteer,” he says, and headstowards the water bottles behind Junno. He doesn’t need to because Junno throws one at him with a dramatic spin; his magazine sword follows soon after to point at Kame’s face.
“Don’t you dare. Yuichi should stay beautiful for the one and only,” Junno croons, and Nakamaru’s tingling brain slowly comes back to life. He finally, finally feels like remembering. The realization comes crashing like a two-ton wrecking ball smacking him into a wall labeled horrific embarrassment.
“More like old and severely sexually frustrated,” Ueda murmurs from behind him, shuffling towards the couches.
“And I always thought that would be Kame,” Junno muses. Kame is too busy eyeing Nakamaru as though he’s won the Miss Wet T-shirt contest to even notice.
Nakamaru stands there, not knowing what to do because Junno is creepily approving and Kame is leering, and suddenly he doesn’t know if sitting next to Ueda would be a wise decision right now. He certainly can’t look at him. It doesn’t help that he feels like a piece of candy being put in front of a couple of starving kids right now.
“What else did I talk about last night?”Nakamaru asks Ueda quietly, resolving to rip off the band-aid once and for all. Ueda gives him a sidelong glance, and he feels like squirming out of his skin.
“Nothing, you fell asleep in the car,” Ueda says at last. This time, not even Nakamaru’s nose seems to hold his attention, his eyes resting instead on the white wall behind him, but he pulls at Nakamaru’s hand, and Nakamaru clambers into his lap then scurries off it too fast.
Nakamaru hates it when Ueda lies to him. He might think he’s good at it, but they’ve known each other for way too long. He hates it even more right now because the possible implications make him want to become an ostrich, head in the sand forever.
“It’s not like I’ve been saving myself or anything,” he mutters.
“That would be stupid, for sure,”Ueda says, and then drags his cell phone out, pretending like he actually knows how to do anything else other than play games on it. Nakamaru feels a little gratitude that at least Ueda has enough decency not to rub his drunken admission in his face.
Unlike some other people. Nakamaru takes a deep, shaky breath because Kame is still staring like he’s just discovered Nakamaru has two heads, and Junno has moved on to make another sword out of PET bottles.
Ueda’s hand slides to his knee then lands on his thigh, and Nakamaru might have made a weird sound in his throat.
“Breathe, or you’re going to choke before you manage... anything else,” Ueda whispers, and he rubs a circle into Nakamaru’s thigh, as if it helps the matter at all.
That is it, Nakamaru thinks. His life is officially over.
**
Nakamaru has known Ueda for more than a decade, and if there is one thing he knows about Ueda Tatsuya at all, it’s that he is, in no way, a gentleman. Not even with the ladies.
There’s a certain art to it; somehow, Ueda can manage to be blunt and improper all he likes, and the girls would all chalk it up to him being adorable in a bratty way. There’s an unfortunate implication there somewhere, but Nakamaru too is guilty of the same infatuation, so he can’t judge anyone. The more Ueda likes to take jabs at him, steals from his plate and makes him pay for all the expenses during their various lunches and dinners over the years, the more endearment Nakamaru feels towards him.
So it completely throws him off when Ueda reaches out at the end of the day and tugs the lapels of Nakamaru’s jacket together so it sits snugly against Nakamaru’s shoulders in the cold air. He even reaches up and dusts something invisible off of Nakamaru’s chest, looking freakishly sincere about it.
It’s madness. If this is a game Ueda is playing, he sure as hell doesn’t know the rules. Furthermore, he’s pretty sure he’s losing, if just from the way his heart flutters at the slight brush of Ueda’s fingers. He should be used to it after all these years, but clearly he’s not.
His brain tries the various scenarios that might have caused this sudden change in behavior. Is this because of what he might have said in the car that night? Worse yet, could they have done something unspeakable, and now Ueda wants to compensate for it? The thoughts almost drive him to hysterics, and he has to swallow when Ueda’s eyes flicker up to meet his.
“Let’s go for dinner sometime this week,” Ueda says. Even his voice has somehow gotten lower, sexier, stirring something awful in Nakamaru’s stomach. “I’ll pay.”
Nakamaru decides quickly that those two words might have been the most attractive he has heard Ueda utter, yet.
**
Nakamaru doesn’t want to talk about his virginity. Obviously. Especially not when the whole J&A seems to be doing so because Junno has sent a master email claiming to ‘protect Yuichi from all the dirty greedy individuals who might want to take Nakamaru’s most precious valuable from him. And Junnohas a sword‘. Kame might have then sent another mass email calling dibs. There is now a waiting list of some sorts.
And during all of this, Ueda has consistently stayed out of it. It’s so out of character that every time Nakamaru tries to rationalize it, it comes back to twist his stomach a little bit more.
Just what had happened that night in the car?
**
As the week drags on, rehearsals continue, the world keeps moving, and nobody has had the heart to drop the subject of Nakamaru’s non-existent sex life, yet. Nakamaru finds himself thinking it’d be better if Ueda has joined the two other clowns he has for bandmates in ripping his dignity to shreds, instead of shooting him inexplicably lingering looks from across the room.
A quiet Ueda is never a good sign.
It’s clear to Nakamaru now that he must have said or done something to Ueda when they were alone in the car that night. If Ueda isn’t talking, then Nakamaru can do it. Or at least, he thinks he can.
“Look, you know I’m an affectionate drunk. I tend to talk nonsense, and there was that one time I tried to kiss Koki to prove I know how to...” Nakamaru is rambling, and he stops himself when Ueda looks at him. He bites his lip, then slides down to the floor to rest until the break is over.
“So, just don’t take it too personally,” Nakamaru finishes, looking down at Ueda. “Please.”
Ueda shakes his head and concentrates on redoing the shoelaces on his sneakers instead. Nakamaru internally panics because maybe it’s not the matter of what Nakamaru had said that night. Maybe he had actually attempted to kiss Ueda that night. And that would have been the worst thing ever.
Ueda isn’t the type to make a fuss, but it would probably still offend him if someone kissed him and then tried to play it down. Nakamaru doesn’t want to play this down. It’s just he needs to know what he should own up to. He needs to be given a chance.
When the rehearsal is over, Nakamaru tries one more time.
“Okay, so maybe it was a bit personal. I can’t be sure if I don’t remember, and you need to--”
Ueda grabs a clean towel from one of the chairs, and he holds Nakamaru’s palm open as he places the towel there, fingers eventually sliding to Nakamaru’s wrist. He then pulls a wet, used towel away from around Nakamaru’s neck. “This one is useless by now,” he says and walks away.
Is Ueda trying to tell him something? Are the things he wants useless? Have the years spent hoping been in vain? This probably means Nakamaru has told Ueda more, more about how much he wants and feels. That would explain why, today, Ueda’s hanging more around Junno, talking to him in hushed tones, being huggedcomfortingly by him around the shoulders. Maybe he’s been feeling sorry at first, but now is burdened by it all.
At the end of the day, Nakamaru catches Ueda in the hallway.
“If you would just tell me what I did or said, that would be great,” Nakamaru says, holding onto the sleeve of Ueda’s leather jacket. “I clearly don’t want you to ignore it. It was nice of you at first since everyone is so vocally amused, but now you are just being a jerk.”
If Ueda just talks, then maybe this years-long infatuation could come to an end. Maybe if Nakamaru actually gets a closure--however it will turn out to be--he could move on. He needs to work this out with Ueda.
“I told you already. You fell asleep in the car,” Ueda says, pulling Nakamaru’s hand away by his wrist, squeezing it a bit too tightly. “The dinner this Friday is still on, right?” he continues, thumb running across the inside of Nakamaru’s wrist before he lets go.
“Yeah,” Nakamaru tries to glare at Ueda, but that has always been more of Ueda’s forte. And he should be mad, especially when Ueda is still being stubborn, but he is once again distracted by how Ueda’s fingers felt on his skin.
**
Nakamaru certainly doesn’t want to talk about his virginity when Akanishi calls, worried and explaining baby Jesuses are only born once every few millenniums. He proclaims himself the resident expert on baby making and sets about to explain how babies are made. Nakamaru cuts him off and is about to hang up--because he seriously doubts Akanishi is worried about his reproduction--when Jin asks for masturbation tips.
"You must be so good at it by now," he sighs, “and Meisa has been a little--" This time Nakamaru really hangs up without preamble.
**
So he still doesn’t want to talk about it when sitting in a surprisingly nice restaurant with Ueda, having that promised dinner. But he would; he would tell Ueda something, or everything. But Ueda doesn’t ever ask, just like he refuses to tell Nakamaru what else he has revealed. He gobbles his food down as fast as ever and then silently eyes Nakamaru’s plate like he’s still starved for it; but he never asks. Nakamaru surrenders his food and stays silent until the dessert is brought out. Dessert! When Ueda promised to pay.
“Okay, so even Akanishi called,” Nakamaru starts eventually. Ueda has automatically ordered him mile-feuille, and it’s so hot. Nakamaru’s feels like a prize girlfriend. And boy, has he sunk low. “Aren’t you going to ask me about this at all?”
Ueda’s lips are wrapped tightly around his dessert spoon. He looks up from his plate, and Nakamaru gulps just as Ueda sucks at the spoon and lets it out his mouth with a pop. That is such a low blow from him. Nakamaru blinks and tries to find his focus again.
“I guess I just prefer you tell me on your own, not just because I asked you. And preferably when sober.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You slur when you’re drunk.”
“I’m sober now,” Nakamaru points out.
“That you are.” Ueda nods and scoops up more of his crêpe cake. “Which means you’re driving today.”
Nakamaru puts his spoon down. He suddenly feels too full, though maybe too full of uninvited emotions. He could just start talking now, he supposes. Let it all out. But maybe Ueda isn’t interested, keeping his thoughts completely to himself. Like this could be just a pity date, or it could be a real date, but it’s not like Nakamaru is going to figure this out without Ueda helping him out.
Ueda really does cover the entire bill. He waits for Nakamaru to slip into his coat and leads himout, even going as far as to open the door for him. Nakamaru sticks his hands deep in his pockets because he has these teenage scenarios running through his head, like his hand brushing against Ueda’s as they walk to where Ueda’s car is. He knows he is blushing, and his mind comes back to that drunken night. By now he’s absolutely sure he spilled all of his secrets,and that this is Ueda’s way of letting him down gently or something. When he looks over at Ueda, looking for some kind of confirmation, he catches Ueda watching himback.
They turn into an empty underground parking then, and Nakamaru stops walking abruptly. He has to get this over with, then maybe the ground will open and swallow him and chew on him long enough that he will be drained of everything and people will no longer remember the events that transpired in the past week.
“Look, I get it,” Nakamaru says when Ueda stops walking and looks back at him. “I told you I loved you, and you are trying to be nice about it. Or giving me a chance to pretend it never happened; I’m not really sure.” Nakamaru takes a deep breath to continue, and he barely notices how Ueda’s eyes open a little wider, how he turns to fully face Nakamaru.
“But I don’t want to pretend,” he trudges on. “And I love you, and yes I would love to be with you, hoped that maybe one day I could be with you. But you’re my friend, and that is important too. I can’t stand this thing.” He waves his hand between them like it explains everything. “Let’s clear the air. I might want to have sex with you too, but only if you really want to be with me, and it wouldn’t just be the sex. And I wasn’t saving myself for you either; it’s not like that. So you don’t have to worry, or be nice. Stop being confusing and go back to making fun of me and using me as your wallet, and being the silly best friend that helps me keep my sanity. Don’t steal it instead.”
That was like a speech from some badly scripted drama, Nakamaru realizes, cringing. In the next moment, he realizes Ueda’s too close and opening his mouth.
“I’m not trying to be nice. You’re so …” Ueda grabs at Nakamaru’s jacket, fingers smoothing down his collar again.
“So what?”Nakamaru asks, suddenly that much more flustered, and he didn’t know that was even possible.
“Why can’t you just know what’s going on? Like you always do.” Ueda sighs. “Look, that night, you just said it was my fault. And now you love me, even. Maybe, I thought about that, just a little, but it all sounds so … out there. Plus, how could you never … not with anyone.” Ueda’s hand falls down from Nakamaru’s collar but grabs at Nakamaru’s wrist instead.
“Does that even make sense to you?” he asks.
“I just don’t date around, okay?” Nakamaru says defensively.
“But you should,” Ueda insists, fingers tightening around the jutting bone on Nakamaru’s wrist. “That’s how this works. So I thought if we’re doing this, then we should do it properly. Like normal people--a date or two, going to see a movie or a play, or maybe I could try and watch one of those damn war documentaries with you. I promise to try not to fall asleep this time.”
“What?” Nakamaru can’t make head or tail of Ueda’s words. “Are you saying…” he trails of
“Why is it such a shock that I would want to act like a decent person? Gentleman or whatever?” Then Ueda pouts, and the intensity of the moment is suddenly gone. Ueda steps back a little and lets go of Nakamaru completely.
“Ueda, you are everything but a gentleman,” Nakamaru says, managing a small snort.
“Then what does that say about your taste,” Ueda retorts, digging around in his pocket.
“I like you mostly for your body and your bank account, don’t you know that?” Nakamaru finds himself saying.
Ueda throws the keys to his car at him and snorts. “That’s really romantic. Very encouraging too.”
“What can I say? I was always the pragmatic one.”
“Says the virgin still waiting for his prince in shining armor to swoop him off his feet.”
“Oh god, I told you it’s not like that,” Nakamaru says indignantly, his ears getting red all over again as he opens the car door on the driver’s side. “So stop that, or I won’t put out.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ueda laughs, winking before sliding to the passenger’s seat, and Nakamaru chokes on nothing. Ueda pats his back, hand sliding down as far as it can go with Nakamaru already sitting down. The trembling in Nakamaru’s stomach startles a question out of him.
“Does this... mean you actually like me?”
Ueda pointedly looks away. “Hmm, do I?” he muses. But Nakamaru’s known Ueda for more than a decade, and he knows when his Ueda-is-lying sensor is tingling. He knows when Ueda is avoiding the inevitable. He knows when Ueda’s teasing and when he is just too macho to admit the truth. Nakamaru realizes he’s smiling and starts the car, deciding not to push his luck anymore. As it is, he doesn’t think the implication of today has sunk in just yet.
**
Two days later, Ueda catches Nakamaru in the break between the rounds of interviews for various magazines they’ve been doing since morning.
“Let’s go somewhere today, after work,” he says almost nonchalantly, only his toe is scuffing against the floor. Nakamaru realizes this isn’t their routine get-together of eating outafter work merely because it’s convenient.
You should date, Ueda has said before.
At the end of the day, Ueda’s held up by their manager, so Nakamaru heads to the exit. He stops in his tracks when he sees the downpour outside, ropes of water falling from the skies and wind knotting them together.
Not five minutes later, Ueda barrels into him. “I thought you’d be outside by now,” he says, palms pressing into Nakamaru’s back where he’d softened his fall. “Oh,” he says next, noticing the rain. Then he is pulling an umbrella that has been tied to the side of his bag. Nakamaru thinks about how weird it is that he even has a bag and an umbrella, and raises an eyebrow. Ueda notices. “What? I had plans, so I checked the weather forecast today. It said light showers in the afternoon.”
They both burst out laughing at that, and Ueda pulls at Nakamaru’s elbow with one hand, lifting the umbrella above them with the other. They start walking quick steps towards Ueda’s car while the wind slams into them, and Nakamaru can feel his side getting wet.
“Way to ruin all my plans,” he hears Ueda grumble petulantly. Then a hand sneaks around Nakamaru’s waist and pulls him closer to Ueda’s side, fingers splayed under his ribs. Nakamaru’s breath hitches, and Ueda stumbles a little in reaction. “Keep up,” he mumbles.
They get to the car, and Ueda should be searching for his car keys. But instead he’s holding the umbrella above them with one hand, the other still firmly wrapped around Nakamaru’s side, keeping him close even when Nakamaru turns to face him, intent on saying something.
The umbrella might as well not be there, what with the strong wind and heavy rain pelting down, soaking their jeans and their shoulders. Nakamaru breathes in--he can smell the rain, the wet autumn leaves and Ueda’s aftershave--and for a moment, he forgets what he wanted to say.
“Key,” he mutters when Ueda presses him closer, his hand suddenly at the small of Nakamaru’s back.
“Oh. Right. Keys,” Ueda exhales, warm breath against Nakamaru’s neck, and he lets go of Nakamaru, handing him the umbrella sohe can dig around in his back pocket.
“Should have taken them out while we were inside,” Nakamaru says, just to fill the silence. When he hears the door unlock, he steps back and lets Ueda in, thenrunsquickly to the passenger’s side.
Once in the car, Ueda busies himself with rummaging around thebackseat, swearing under his breath and throwing random things to the front.
“Honestly, this is a sign. I should never try doing things like this. You’re all wet, and it’s getting late, and I bet they’ll be closed by the time we get there,” he finally emerges from the back, a towel in his hand. He moves to unbutton Nakamaru’s jacket and shirt, and Nakamaru squeaks involuntarily. Ueda pulls his hands away for a moment. The car windows fog with their breaths, and the air gets stiff in the car.
“The towel’s clean,” Ueda says, moving again. “I promise I haven’t gone to the gym since I put the bag into the car. Let’s just get you dry a bit.” He seems to work on some kind of autopilot, determined to get things done as thoughhe is on some kind of schedule. He assesses Nakamaru’s shirt and, probably deeming it relatively dry, rubs the towel over Nakamaru’s neck, pulling the wet jacket away from him next and replacing it with his after-workout hoodie.
Finally, he rubs the towel on his own jeans and gives it back to Nakamaru. “Finish drying off,” he instructs as he turns to the steering wheel and starts the car.
Nakamaru wants to say something, but he is surrounded by Ueda’s scent, and he’s still too dizzy with everything that has just happened. He glances over at Ueda, who is biting his lip in concentration, watching the GPS calculate his route.
“We might make it just yet,” he says determinedly.
**
They do make it, and by the time they stop by a big gate leading to what seems to be a private park and a pond, Nakamaru is warm and almost dry, the heating in the car having been turned up to chase the cold away. It’s stopped raining, and during the drive, Ueda had reverted to his usual self, singing to the radio and making jabs at how slow some of the drivers were. In the meantime, Nakamaru managed to convince himself that this was a date a hundred times, only to then dismiss the idea immediately afterwards. If only Ueda could stop being so uncanny about it, especially when it’s just the two of them.
“Let’s go,” Ueda says, and glances at his watch. They get out of the car, butUeda doesn’t lead him towards the park, instead walking to a booth on the surrounding sidewalk. Hurry up,” he urges, grabbing onto the sleeve of the hoodie Nakamaru’s wearing.
The booth ends up being anice cream stand. “Last day of their season. The best ice cream in Japan,” Ueda explains.
“So for today, you planned on getting me sick by eating ice cream and walking in the rain?” Nakamaru asks, but his eyes are laughing.
Ueda glowers just a little. “If you don’t want any, that’s fine with me. I like cheap dates.”
Nakamaru’s inside feels that much warmer then, the admittance settling in his stomach and pleasantly buzzing there. “Ah, no way. I’m pretty high maintenance,” he says, and orders two big scoops of vanilla.
It gets dark as they walk back to the gate, and when they arrive, Ueda talks to the person sitting in the booth by the gate. Eventually it opens, and they enter. The park is well lit, and the wide path leads to the pondthat had been in view this entire time.
Nakamaru starts getting nervous again, a million scenarios running through his head, because this is kind of … romantic, and that seems somehow unfair because no one prepared him for ‘romantic’this morning. He would have worn different socks and think of things to say, but now he’s just silently licking ice cream that is admittedly great, but can’t keep him from working himself into overdrive.
He is startled out of his thoughts by his phone chiming and absently pulls it out to look.
{You should have told me,} says the message, complete with a weeping emoticon. {I would have made a great first time!}
“What the hell?” Nakamaru groans. “You told Koki??”
Ueda bites his lip. He doesn’t look guilty at all.
“Hm? Could have been Taguchi…” he murmurs, eyes staring right through Nakamaru’s face to gaze thoughtfully at the pond. Nakamaru stares morosely at the melting ice cream in his hand instead.
“There you go,” Ueda pats his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Be happy your virginity has helped reunite two people. It’s not something that happens often.”
“I can’t believe I thought it’d be a good thing if you got in on all the torment too,” Nakamaru mutters.
Ueda laughs at him then, and--when rounding a vacant corner toward the rail along the pond--reaches out to lace his fingers with Nakamaru’s. They stop under the shade of a big willow tree. Nakamaru’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he has to look wildly around, hoping it comes across as a cautious move rather than that he’s literally losing every nerve he possesses. Ueda’s palm is warm, too warm, and his grip numbs the tips of Nakamaru’s fingers.
“You know,” Ueda giggles quietly into Nakamaru’s shoulder, as if anyone could listen in on them right now. “Your face when you’re embarrassed, it’s hilarious.”
Don’t say it like it’s not your fault, Nakamaru thinks. He’s not sure how exactly he looks right now, but he still proceeds to scowl, pulling the corners of his mouth downwards as if it will stop the warmth from spreading throughout his torso.
He gasps--literally, and he never thought anyone would do that in real life--when he feels Ueda’s lips move around to press against his clavicle. They part slightly, enough for Ueda to breathe burning puffs of air against the thin fabric of Nakamaru’s shirt, breaths that creep upward towards his shoulder blade, leaving indented impressions in the form of goosebumps in their wake.
“W-We’re in public, for goodness’ sake!” Nakamaru’s whisper quakes slightly.
“Not really,” Ueda replies, his voice sending deep trembles right down to Nakamaru’s toes. “This is a private property, and it’s unlikely anyone would come out here this late.”
But he still leaves Nakamaru’s shoulder alone in favor of staring at his profile instead. When Nakamaru looks down at him, there’s a torn expression on his face.
“Do you like it here?” Ueda asks then, his fingers squeezing around Nakamaru’s once more.
“Yeah, I do.” Nakamaru nods, trying to ground himself. He crunches on the last piece of his ice cream, and Ueda watches, tongue peeking out, his own ice cream long gone.
“Here,” Ueda says then, his voice low again, and he runs his thumb across Nakamaru’s bottom lip. “You had a crumb there.”
Nakamaru’s lips feel sticky and he licks at them, catching Ueda’s thumb still lingering in the corner of his mouth. Ueda’s hand against his chin trembles and he steps closer. Nakamaru holds his breath. Ueda moves his thumb, running it across Nakamaru’s cheek and down to his chin. The tips of Ueda’s shoes hit Nakamaru’s.
“Breathe,” Ueda mutters, but he doesn’t really give Nakamaru much chance to do so, hislips then pressing into the corner of Nakamaru’s own. Ueda’s ice cream had been strawberry flavored, and it goes nicely with vanilla on Nakamaru’s tongue that licks out again to taste more. But then Ueda is gently sucking at it, pulling Nakamaru down and closer by his hand, and Nakamaru jerks away. His heart is beating in his throat, and Nakamaru’s reeling because he’s kissed Ueda, who is still holding his hand.
He’s breathing hard, probably too hard; and he is about to burst from inside out. Ueda is staring at him, a dark, inexplicable stare in the shade of faraway streetlight. He looks at Nakamaru like that’s the only way he has ever looked at him, as if Nakamaru has been looking another way all this time. He’s on the verge of some kind of realization, but Ueda’s hand holding onto his is still tight and so warm, and it pulls him back every time he teeters over the edge.
The look in Ueda’s eyes disappears, however. He suddenly doubles over and laughs, and Nakamaru isn’t sure if he’s terrified or disappointed.
“Oh gosh,” Ueda wheezes, leaning into him for support.“Your face. How do you make all those expressions? I don’t know if it’s your nose or your mouth or... something.”
Nakamaru doesn’t laugh with him.
“That’s not funny,” he breathes. His voice has evaporated completely. Why does his throat feel so dry?
That seems to sober Ueda up, nonetheless. He straightens, his hand leaving Nakamaru’s, and when his eyes flicker back at him, something like guilt flits through his expression.
“Let’s go back,” Ueda says. “I’ll drive you home.”
Nakamaru bites his lips as they trail their way back to the car, watching their shadows striping the road.
**
In a sudden fit of inspiration--or recklessness, it’s not too clear which it is--Nakamaru decides to invite Ueda over to watch on of ‘those damned war documentaries’ that Ueda is against so much. The ten minutes he’d had to wait for Ueda’s reply had been torture. He’d sat on the edge of the bed, staring intensely at the envelope icon on his phone screen like it had stepped on his dog’s tail.
Would it have been better if he had chosen a different movie? The point is that he wants to establish to Ueda that things are still normal between them--status of relationship notwithstanding. Even when he had gushed his feelings to Ueda, even when the act of simply holding Ueda’s hand now bears a different meaning...
But when he admits this to Massu during their regular lunch date, his action is suddenly put into a completely different perspective.
“It’s a booty call,” Massu nods, having concluded his argument.
“No. No, it’s not.That’s not...” Nakamaru talks into his hands. Why everyone and their mothers are utterly interested if he gets some is beyond his comprehension. Massu, of all people, has insisted on sitting him down for what he dubbed a “pep talk”. And here Nakamaru has counted on him to be the only safe dock in all of this sea of insanity.
He sighs heavily.
“Come on, man,” Massu urges on, nose pressed into the dessert menu. “You’re practically glowing with anticipation.”
The restaurant buzzes in the background, and it just serves to unnerve Nakamaru even more. He looks down at his hands, relieved to see they’re not glowing in any way. His palms still look relatively normal, if not actually a little pale. And clammy, he notes, clenching and unclenching them tentatively.
It isn’t like he was expecting anything to happen. Sure, it’s nerve-wrecking; he’s very well aware that it’s technically a date--a date!--and last time, when Ueda had kissed him...
Why had he leaned away? It didn’t make any sense. He likes Ueda--everything with Ueda is easy. The occasional thought of simply being with Ueda excites him more than the one where a really hot woman just comes out of nowhere and start making out with him...
“And now you’re blushing,” Massu says quickly, his voice low--thankall the almighty gods--just as the waitress comes back with their food. Nakamaru buries his face in his hands, hoping to blend into the table via osmosis. He waits until the food has been set down on the table to look up--three main courses on Massu’s side, and a plate of steak on his--to find Massu already pulling out chopsticks.
“Look, I know it’s scary, but if Ueda is someone you really like, you’ll enjoy it.” Massu can’t even bring himself to elaborate what it means. “You’re lucky he’s gotten so much hotter lately.”
“Ugh. Why are you talking about Ueda like we’re in a teen movie? And of course I will enjoy it because it will be a colored two-hour long documentary about Second World War that actually features the machineries of the warfare. The only action going on will be his firm biceps on top of my soft beanbag, all night long!”
Massu makes a face of distaste. “Are you even listening to yourself right now?”
At least Massu isn’t pressing his face to Nakamaru’s, desperate for some details. Nakamaru feels himself blush, his fingers flexing around the fork and knife like they have the power to defend what’s left of his dignity.
“Nothing. Will. Happen,” he presses, surprising himself with the low baritone his voice manages to hit. “We’re just going to watch a war movie--”
“Yeah, yeah, if that’s what you want to call it,” Massu cuts in, voice muffled from his mouth stuffed full of food.
Nakamaru shuts his eyes, and once again he inwardly curses the evil man who had first thought alcohol was going to be good for mankind.
**
When Ueda comes over, and they sit down to watch the documentary of Nakamaru’s choice--each conveniently on the opposite side of Nakamaru’s couch--it’s mostly nerves talking on Nakamaru’s behalf.
“Okay, so in this scene, they got the time wrong. It wasn’t 10th March, it was actually--what?”
“Nothing,” Ueda says.
Nakamaru has no idea how long Ueda has been smirking. He doesn’t drop it even when he starts giggling at Nakamaru’s expense. “Have anyone told you how annoying you are when you watch TV?”
“Yes. You do, every time we watch something together.”
Ueda is still smirking as he takes a sip of his beer. “That’s because you talk over things the whole time, like some kind of commentary that doesn’t shut up. How do you even find that many things to talk about?”
Nakamaru huffs, his nostrils flaring.
“Just tell me straight that you want me to shut up.”
“I never said that I want you to shut up,” Ueda laughs. “I just find it amusing, is all.”
“Well then,” Nakamaru turns his nose up, not sure if he’s immensely pleased, or extremely irritated. “If that’s the case, I’ll never shut up.”
“Fine by me,” Ueda chuckles.
“Fine.”
But there are just so many things one can talk about regarding the subject of machineries without going too deep into the back story of it all, and Nakamaru is not that enthusiastic in sharing his knowledge with someone who just finds it amusing. Halfway through the documentary, all the food but the now-cold popcorn is gone, and Nakamaru’s quieted down. The only sounds in the room are coming from the television, and Nakamaru expects Ueda to be sleeping in his corner of the couch.
When he turns to check, he finds Ueda wide awake, nursing the same bottle of beer Nakamaru has given him when he came. It must be disgustingly warm and void of any fizz by now. Ueda seems comfortable enough, lightly leaning on the armrest and his bare feet up on the sofa between them. Nakamaru’s always thought his big toes are kind of huge. When he looks up, he finds out Ueda’s caught him staring.
“Don’t tell me my toes are more interesting than mid-twentieth century war strategies,” he says, laughing a little and stretching his leg so that his toes poke Nakamaru’s thigh.
“Maybe not your toes …” Nakamaru starts, then stops himself before he says something cheesy like ‘but you are.’ His heartbeat is picking up speed again, so he decides it’s time for exit strategies.
“Let me get you another beer,” he mutters and makes to get up.
“I’m fine,” Ueda says quickly, leaning forward to put the bottle on the table and effectively blocking Nakamaru’s way into the kitchen. “Let’s just get this program over with,” he adds.
“Oh, right,” Nakamaru says, backing up, but then Ueda’s hand is pulling on his own. When Nakamaru fights to keep his balance, Ueda yanks at him, hard. Nakamaru clambers onto the couch and Ueda’s thighs. He elbows Ueda in the stomach in the process and hears him wince.
“Seriously, take a hint,” Ueda sighs and scoots back, maneuvering Nakamaru like he’s a battle ship on the map of the world’s oceans, until Ueda’s squished against the backrest with his hand wrapped around Nakamaru’s waist and head on his shoulder to see the TV screen, puffs of breaths skidding over Nakamaru’s neck. Nakamaru feels more like a submarine than a ship though, submerged deep into the water, gallons of it closed over him and pushing him down.
“Calm down. I’m sure you’ve cuddled before,” Ueda murmurs, his hand sliding against Nakamaru’s stomach and drawing small circles.
“I’m just surprised you are not asleep,” Nakamaru says indignantly. Of course he has cuddled before. But not like this, with him being spooned, and not with Ueda, who he has been in love with for so long.
“I figured that we haven’t been dating for long enough, and it wouldn’t be too appropriate. Don’t get used to it though,” Ueda laughs again, and bites Nakamaru’s shoulder playfully.
Nakamaru’s long lost focus, and he has no idea what is happening on his TV screen. He squirms against Ueda’s hold and tries to bury himself into the couch in the hopes that it will swallow him.
“We’re dating?” He asks, immediately hitting himself mentally because of how stupid that sounds.
Ueda grabs Nakamaru by both of his hips, and maneuvers him around again until Nakamaru’s lying on his back. Ueda looks down at him from above, eyes swimming with amusement and something like wonder. There’s something that resembles--but no, that’s impossible--fondness in the way his features soften for a moment before he speaks again.
“Yes,” Ueda finally says, decidedly. “And I find it absolutely cute that you are blushing over it.” He leans down, sporting that look again that makes Nakamaru think of strawberry ice cream and kisses, and in a hysterical fit of panic, he dodges. Ueda reacts instantly, hand pressed against Nakamaru’s cheek, but only so he can touch their noses together, laughing under his breath as he does so.
“You’re so unfair,” Nakamaru sighs. “It’s not like I want a love song or anything. But at least you could...”
At least he could tell Nakamaru how he feels, instead of covering it up with lip bites and snorts and insufferable observations.
“I don’t need you to stare at me all the time, like I have this endless fund of expressions and faces that you need to study constantly and catalogue them away. It’s creepy how you keep doing that…” Like you can’t stop looking, Nakamaru wants to say, but he doesn’t.
“Heh, I never knew you’d be the troublesome type,” Ueda mutters. The shock when he leans down has more or less guaranteed that Nakamaru’s head barely twitches when Ueda closes his eyes and his lips hover just above Nakamaru’s own. Nakamaru waits for the slick inner edge of Ueda’s lips to touch, but it never does.
"How about this?" Comes the low voice near Nakamaru’s ear, making him inhale a large lungful of air.
“Nakamaru...”
Exhale.
“...Yuichi...”
Inhale.
“I love you.”
The impact of it comes full force even though he has tried to prepare himself mentally.
He hasn’t anticipated the rush of breath, the disappearance of personal space, and the obliteration of his self-awareness. Ueda occupies his entire field of vision, his shadow eclipsing Nakamaru’s universe when his lower lip is crushed between Ueda’s teeth.
Ueda’s hand draws his fingers together, pulling them towards the familiar shape of Ueda’s waist in a wordless demand. Nakamaru complies, squeezing lightly before finding the gap between Ueda's shirt and jeans, and he slips his fingers to meet warm skin.
His hand stays there for a while, feeling the rise and fall of Ueda’s stomach as they kiss, Ueda’s hand on Nakamaru’s cheek and then in his hair. He sucks on Nakamaru’s lip and kisses down his neck before returning to press their lips together again.
“Ue--Tatsuya--” Nakamaru tries to say when Ueda pulls away for longer than a second. His eyes wander to Ueda’s, finding them staring directly back at him, Ueda’s quickened breath in perfect rhythm with Nakamaru’s own.
“Are we? Are we doing this right now?” Nakamaru licks his lip, his fingers still splayed under Ueda’s shirt, lips swollen, and body heavy with all the emotion.
“Do you want to?” Ueda asks in return. “We could. But only if you really wanted to.”
Does he want to?
“It’s you--” Nakamaru takes a deep breath, trying to swallow and failing miserably. He circles the slope of Ueda’s tummy with his thumb--which is trembling, feeling the muscles there flex with each careful touch.
“If it’s with you, I’d always--”
Ueda cuts him off by reaching out and pulling him against his mouth again. He might as well, since Nakamaru was just being extremely lame and cheesy. This is better. Nakamaru inhales through his nose, letting Ueda climb completely on top of him. Fingertips graze his face again, and he is suddenly too overwhelmed by the jarring, though still calculated excitement of Ueda’s every movement.
“We’re moving,” Ueda whispers suddenly, and Nakamaru is disoriented, head spinning when Ueda pushes off him and hauls him up too fast.
“Oh,” he mutters when Ueda wraps his arms around him from behind and spins him to face the hallway leading to his bedroom. Ueda pushes them forward, warm lips kissing down Nakamaru’s neck and over the curve of his shoulder, fingers pulling at his shirt so he can reach his shoulder blade. “I’m so glad you bought this huge bed back then,” Ueda mutters when Nakamaru is faced with the said bed at last.
“Sometimes it’s a little too big,” Nakamaru says, and he doesn’t know why that slipped out in this particular moment, but then Ueda is in front of him again, eyes serious, pulling him to sit down beside him.
“Not now though,” he says, and then he’s kissing Nakamaru again, his fingers struggling with the small buttons on Nakamaru’s shirt.
“You really didn’t think your clothes choice through tonight,” Ueda mutters, sounding almost vexed. In the end, he just grabs the hem of Nakamaru’s shirt. “Up,” he orders, and then pulls it over Nakamaru’s head. He does the same with his t-shirt, and Nakamaru automatically goes to touch.
Ueda’s body is so different from his own--less wiry and more defined muscles, skin taut over them when he moves. He leans down, kissing from one of Nakamaru’s shoulders to the other, tongue licking at the skin. Nakamaru watches, one hand in Ueda’s hair, the other running down his spine. Pride swells in his throat when Ueda shivers, and he counts Ueda’s vertebrae, this time from the bottom up towards his neck. He gasps when Ueda’s tongue circles his nipple, and his skin flushes because this is happening; Ueda’s touching him, leaning into him more and more, and he has thought about this so many times.
“Stop thinking, your face is weird again,” Ueda mumbles against his ribs then, and Nakamaru laughs, completely breathless, because he kind of gets it now.
“You could always stop looking,” he barely manages to say because Ueda’s teeth are scraping down his ribs.
“Nah, I don’t want to do that,” Ueda says, lips pressing insistently against skin, and then he sucks a bruise into Nakamaru’s side. By now he’s almost sprawled across Nakamaru’s lap. Nakamaru falls back, whimpering and clutching on Ueda’s shoulders while Ueda’s mouth moves even lower, fingers skimming along the waistline of his jeans. “I want to look.”
Nakamaru’s breath leaves him in a rush when he hears the sound of his own zipper. Ueda isn’t careful about it, dragging the jeans down along with Nakamaru’s underwear quickly. Nakamaru yelps, and tries to cover himself, but Ueda just pushes his hands away, one palm running down Nakamaru’s thigh, the other rubbing over his cock that hardens more under the attention. Ueda lifts his head then, watching Nakamaru’s face while he keeps his hands busy on him. His stare is unnerving, and Nakamaru shouldn’t be this nervous. He tries to swallow it down, leaning up on his elbows and pulling Ueda back up to kiss him.
“You’re so skinny,” Ueda murmurs, crawling up over him completely, one thigh between Nakamaru’s, one elbow pressed into the mattress next to Nakamaru’s ear.
“You’re one to talk,” Nakamaru whispers back, both of his hands settling on Ueda’s hips and squeezing for effect. Ueda moans at that, and Nakamaru’s eyes widen in pleasant surprise. He presses his fingers deeper, earning a hiss, but Ueda only keeps kissing his lips, his neck, sucking yet another bruise behind Nakamaru’s ear. His clothed thigh rubs against Nakamaru’s cock, fabric too harsh against it. Still, Nakamaru can’t bring himself to do something about it, too focused on the way they move together, hips slowly meeting and Nakamaru’s hands mapping Ueda’s body, learning what noises he makes when Nakamaru scrapes nails down his back, rubs his nipple with a thumb or pulls at Ueda’s thick lips with his teeth.
Nakamaru doesn’t know how long they stay like that, and he’s only pulled back from his reverie when Ueda pulls at his hair, back arching, chest rising higher and hip digging painfully against Nakamaru’s own. Ueda’s breathing is frantic, his neck is flushed, and Nakamaru feels sweaty skin under his fingers. He runs his hand through Ueda’s hair, pushes the damp fringe of his forehead and marvels at how much Ueda wants him. He’s so lost in it, that his own pleasure comes in spikes, always bursting under his skin and in his stomach, jarring.
“Can’t take this,” Ueda mumbles, pushing away. He starts opening his own jeans, and Nakamaru joins with his hands, wanting to do this. Ueda practically hisses at it, quickly moving to the side to drag the pants down his legs, pulling something out of the pocket and then kicking them off the bed along with his boxers. He stays on his side, next to Nakamaru, and grabs his hand, thumb pressing on the inside of Nakamaru’s palm.
“Your fingers, they’re so …” he trails off, sucking two of them into his mouth. Nakamaru watches that in awe too, his other hand slowly running up Ueda’s hip, then towards his cock. Fingers, he manages to think, and trails only one of them up Ueda’s cock, thick and slightly curved, and so damn hard for him; for Nakamaru. He shivers at the thought of what could happen, and it’s then that Ueda pulls at his chin, making him look into his face. His lips are wrapped tight against Nakamaru’s fingers, shiny and wet, and he sucks hard. Nakamaru almost jumps on the bed then moans loudly.
“I want them inside me,” Ueda says, voice ruined, when he pulls Nakamaru’s wrist away, “now.”
It’s then that Nakamaru’s hit with a wave of panic. Ueda’s so hot, and he makes it sound so, so good, but Nakamaru’s only ever known the theory behind this. Instead of replying or doing something, he jerks away, face turned into a pillow.
“Yuichi,” Ueda soothes him with a hand in his hair, then rubbing down his neck. “Look at me.”
Nakamaru does, deep blush in his face because he’s ruining the mood. There’s that fondness in Ueda’s eyes again.
“Would you rather watch me at first?” Ueda asks, and Nakamaru’s breath hitches; he’s lost track of how many times that has happened today. It’s so embarrassing, how he still wants it, so much. Ueda’s hand trails down Nakamaru’s shoulder, over his chest and stomach, stroking his cock again, two, three times. Then he is lying on his back, his other hand grabbing the small bottle he dropped from his pocket before. Lube, Nakamaru realizes and trembles again. “Come here,” Ueda spreads his legs, bending his knees.
Ueda’s so hot, open and relaxed, lying on Nakamaru’s bed like he belongs there. “You’re so hot.” Nakamaru says it out loud, not even recognizing his voice. He tries to cover his face again in embarrassment, but Ueda only smirks a little, like he knows that, and okay he probably does. He pulls at Nakamaru’s elbow, and then Nakamaru’s kneeling between Ueda’s spread legs, Ueda’s upper body propped on a pillow. He lifts one of his legs, calf landing on Nakamaru’s shoulder, and Nakamaru gets distracted by his thigh, kissing it on an urge, sucking on the inside, mouth moving from his knee and higher.
“Fuck,” Ueda hisses again, hips lifting. “Fuck.” It’s more high pitched the second time, and Nakamaru looks up just in time to see a finger disappear inside Ueda, wrinkled skin pulsing around it. It’s a painfully slow slide in, and Nakamaru can’t look away. His mouth opens, but he can’t say anything, barely managing to inhale and exhale. Ueda’s hand is twisted uncomfortably, and the finger moves inside him shallowly, not much deeper than up to the first knuckle. Nakamaru doesn’t realize his hand comes up to Ueda’s other knee, pushing it to the side, more out of the way. Ueda groans and adds another finger, tries to push his hips up into them, but he can barely move like this.
“I …” he starts, almost sobbing while Nakamaru keeps leaving fluttering kisses on the calf on his shoulder, but still watching. Nakamaru looks into Ueda’s face, and Ueda’s eyes are narrow slits, his bottom lip in between his teeth, and his whole upper body is heaving with his breaths. “Do you want to try,” Ueda tries saying again, and Nakamaru barely hears it. He sees the bottle of lube on the side, and yes he wants to try so he grabs for it, but then freezes again. “Fuck, please, your fingers, they are so long, so perfect,” Ueda keeps mumbling, his own fingers scissoring and moving up his ass. “Please, please, fuck.”
Nakamaru uncaps the bottle, coats his fingers, and it feels like in a slow motion sequence. Then Ueda’s leg drops from his shoulder, trying to drape itself around Nakamaru’s waist and pull him closer like that. Nakamaru grabs his ankle and puts the calf back where it was.
In the end, his point finger pushes along Ueda’s fingers too fast. He knows it by the way Ueda jerks a little and whimpers. Nakamaru tries to pull back.
“No.” Ueda sounds so broken, and his clean hand wraps around Nakamaru’s wrist, “keep going,”
Ueda’s hot and slick with lube inside, walls contracting against Nakamaru’s knuckle as he pushes deeper, then pulls back a little, and repeats. Again and again, until Ueda pulls his own fingers away, guiding two more of Nakamaru’s in before he pulls his knees to his chest.
“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he murmurs, rolling his hips down the best he can. Nakamaru feels the heat around his fingers and imagines it, tight and perfect around his cock, and fuck now he wants that too, scooting closer until his spread thighs are touching Ueda’s sides underneath his ass. Ueda’s next moan breaks into a high-pitched whine, and Nakamaru feels why, fingers brushing against what must be Ueda’s prostate.
Oh. He presses against it on purpose and watches how the theory he knows plays out in reality, Ueda’s back snapping into a sharp curve despite the awkward position.
“Stop, stop,” he mumbles, hitting Nakamaru’s hand away. “Or I’ll come just like this.” Nakamaru groans at the idea.
“Could I,” he starts, and immediately feels horrified.
“God, yes, yes, you damn well can,” Ueda groans, frustration and want and abandon all lacing his voice, now much deeper. He lets his legs fall a little, propping himself up on one elbow and opening the lube. When his palm, rough despite the slickness, drags up Nakamaru’s cock, he has to close his eyes against the pleasure. “So hard for me,” Ueda says, and he sounds almost cheeky, only he’s too turned on to pull it off. He strokes Nakamaru a little more before falling back down onto the pillows, his legs coming up again.
“Do it now,” he mutters, one hand finding Nakamaru’s fingers on the bed.
Nakamaru guides his own cock against Ueda’s ass, and at first he doesn’t push enough, the head of his cock sliding between Ueda’s cheeks. He bites his lip, ears burning in embarrassment, before scooting closer. This time, the head of his cock pushes inside, but he stops immediately, scared to go too fast again. Ueda’s walls constrict around him, and he sobs, one leg coming around Nakamaru’s waist again, heel pushing into the small of his back.
“More,” Ueda gets out, eyes closed tightly, fingers almost hurting Nakamaru’s with how tight they’re squeezing his own. Nakamaru pushes deeper, keeps going until his balls stick to Ueda’s ass. Ueda’s fingers clench and relax, much the same way his insides feel against Nakamaru’s cock, pulsing.
It’s already too much of pressure, and Nakamaru’s so wound up; he now realizes he’s not going to last at all, about to embarrass himself again. Ueda feels too good like this, and Nakamaru’s body shivers with the need to move. Ueda’s fingers relax and lace with Nakamaru’s.
“Move,” he breathes out, almost deflates as he does so, and Nakamaru pulls back a little, presses back in--tries it again and again until the slow pressure in the pit of his stomach urges him to go faster. It’s amazing, the drag of Ueda’s walls against his cock, the slapping sounds Ueda’s ass makes against the skin of his thighs--Nakamaru moves faster and faster, eyes trained on where his cock disappears into Ueda. He hears Ueda’s gasps and hiccupping moans, and he is so close, moving frantically. When he moves forward over Ueda, he overdoes it again, his cock slipping out and sliding against Ueda’s own instead of inside him.
“Fuck,” he mutters.This too is good, Ueda’s cock against his, rubbing and chafing together. He collapses forward even more, and Ueda’s other hand wraps around his neck, elbow hooking around it as he brings Nakamaru closer and sucks on his tongue. Nakamaru tries to breath, tries to move back inside Ueda, who now has both of his legs wrapped around him, but all it does is pressing him more into Ueda’s body.
And just like that, he’s coming, long moan swallowed by Ueda’s mouth, Ueda’s nails digging into the top of his hands and his body writhing. Ueda sticks a hand between them and jerks him through it, pulling on his cock until Nakamaru squirms away from the touch. He tries catching his breath, tries not collapsing against Ueda, but he does anyway. Ueda’s hard cock is trapped between them, and that’s how he knows he hasn’t come yet, and Nakamaru’s the worst lay ever.
“No, I’m sorry, fuck, I--” Ueda only drags him close again, swiping his tongue into his mouth.
“Shhhh, just help me out a little,” he mumbles, sounding still breathless and so, so wrecked. He guides Nakamaru’s fingers towards his ass again, and Nakamaru gasps, but gets it, dipping inside Ueda again. Ueda sighs, his own hand closing around his cock. Nakamaru sets a steady pace, listens to Ueda as he moans in approval.
“Harder, Yuichi, faster,” he mutters and then “yes, yes, yes right there,” when Nakamaru manages to find his prostate again. When Ueda comes, he throws his head back, throat working over almost inaudible moans and whimpers. Nakamaru leans down and mouths the thick vein on Ueda’s neck, enjoying the way Ueda’s whole body flutters with pleasure and fingers working inside him for as long as Ueda’s hand moves on his own cock. Ueda’s walls tighten around his fingers, and next time he wants to feel that around his cock, may want to feel Ueda’s cock inside himself too, and then maybe he wants Ueda’s cock in his mouth because it’s so prettily curved.
Ueda huffs out a laugh. “You can blow me any time, Yuichi,” he says, still breathless, and Nakamaru’s whole face burns because he’s said that out loud.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, petulant, into Ueda’s skin.
Ueda pats his ass, then rolls from underneath him. “We’re all sticky,” he explains, and wobbles out of the room and into Nakamaru’s bathroom. He comes back and cleans them both with warm wet towel, kissing Nakamaru’s hip, his stomach and then his fingers in the process. Nakamaru blinks away the memory of those fingers in Ueda’s mouth and concentrates on slow, calm breaths. Ueda climbs back to bed with him, discarding the comforter and climbing under the blankets.
“At least everyone will shut up about popping your cherry now,” he mumbles before he drapes his leg around Nakamaru’s thighs and falls asleep.
**
The next morning, Nakamaru wakes up first. He feels self-conscious lying next to Ueda, lightly snoring and spread out on most of Nakamaru’s bed. Part of him wants to stay, maybe move closer, but he’s so distressed remembering all the things he didn’t do perfectly last night that instead he gets up, grabs a pair of clean underwear and starts picking up all of their discarded clothes, finding his cellphone from the pile and placing it on the nightstand, fishing his socks from under the bed.
When he’s done, he notices a piece of paper, folded into a small square on the floor. When open, it turns out to be the “Deflowering of Nakamaru Yuichi Waiting List,” names scribbled down by hand. Kame’s name is at the top of the list in his neat writing. Some of the names make him blush as he curiously--and guiltily--deciphers them. Others he can’t even read because every single one of them is angrily crossed over with a red marker. The same red marker that Nakamaru now notices lying underneath his bedside table.
In the next moment, he almost jumps out of his skin because a hand slides down his spine.
“What are you doing, not sleeping?” Ueda asks, sounding still half asleep himself, and starts pulling Nakamaru back to bed by the waistband of his underwear.
“Where did you get this?” Nakamaru asks, scooting back against the headboard and waiving the list around.
Ueda looks at the paper then groans into the pillow. “I stole it from Kame,” he says, voice muffled. “You didn’t want to talk about it,” he adds. Nakamaru pokes his cheek, trying to make Ueda look at him. “Fine, I hated them talking about it too,” Ueda mutters.
Nakamaru feels like laughing out loud. He still doesn’t want to talk about his virginity. Even less so now, given that it doesn’t exist anymore. His phone chimes, and he reaches for it.
{Congratulations on becoming a man ;D} the message from Massu says. Nakamaru groans. Ueda peeks at the screen, sees the message, and steals the phone from Nakamaru’s hands.
{If you want the dirt, here it is: It was fucking awesome. Now shut up about it. - Ueda} he types quickly, hits the send button and throws the phone across the room.
Nakamaru gapes, though more at the unexpected praise than at the fact his phone is probably dead. Where are his priorities?
“Now get back here, so I can give you the best head of your life,” Ueda orders.
“I knew I loved you for a reason,” Nakamaru sighs.
Ueda laughs really hard, his jaw almost unhinging in the process. “Oh baby, you know nothing, yet.”