Prompt 6: Down and Out - Team Future
Title: Down and Out
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pin
Summary: Yamapi tries to move on.
Prompt: KAT-TUN-Six Senses
Warnings: Language, smut, angst.
Notes: Thanks to N, R and L for all of your help. You’re the best a girl could ask for :)
one time,
put your hands up
Yamapi isn’t really sure how to define his relationship with Jin. Once upon a time they were best friends, joined at the hip, soul mates and all that other malarkey. But one sex scandal, several screaming matches later and Jin upped and left Japan for three years, cutting all ties, breaking apart an already ripping at the seams KAT-TUN, until he popped back into Yamapi’s life six months ago.
They’re not exactly friends though, at least not anymore. Yamapi doesn’t talk to Jin, doesn’t ring him in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep, doesn’t expect Jin to tell him his dreams and fears, not now that the threads that tied them together, made them mabudachi, have been cut.
And sure, Yamapi misses that because Jin was his best friend, his confidante, the one person that Yamapi knew was going to be there with him through thick and thin. But well. Things change and fifteen years in the Jimusho just means that Yamapi is more wary, more aware of who to trust and who not to, knows that when you leave the business you get wiped out.
But there’s something familiar about this, the press and pull between them, Jin breathing his name against his neck, tongue running across Yamapi’s bottom lip, the way they used to be before, two horny boys too desperate to find release to look anywhere else, slowly developing into something that made Yamapi’s heart sing with joy.
And that is what makes Yamapi return every weekend, makes him stand and make awkward conversation with Jin’s friends, lets his pretty friend Suki buy him tequila shots and then lets Jin shove him into a corner, mouth and hands greedy. And if at the end of the night he leaves feeling like a whore. Well. At least he knows Jin notices him.
sexy hips
moving to the rhythm
"Hurry up," Yamapi breathes, practically whining it, because he's had to put up with Jin all fucking evening, dressed in those tight pants and that low collared shirt, and fuck, he can see the edges of Jin's collar bones and the soft outline of the mark he made on Jin's neck two days ago when they fucked in the third floor bathroom.
"I am hurrying," Jin breathes against Yamapi's ear, tongue sliding against the corner of his mouth indecently, and if Jin doesn't get his hands down Yamapi's trousers and onto his cock soon he is going to die. And then Jin's hand is sliding down Yamapi’s stomach, rubbing against the soft trail of hair leading under his trousers and finally, finally, final--
“Mm, you look good,” Jin murmurs, his hand stopping and Yamapi has to fight back his own pleads because fuck it, Jin is not going to win this (not again, not like he used to back when Yamapi knew this was more than just casual fucking). But then Jin slides his hand just so, so that the silver ring on his hand catches against Yamapi’s cock and Yamapi can feel his legs buckling, the pleads slivering up his throat and onto his tongue, ready to meet Jin’s greedy ears and Yamapi is helpless to stop them.
The smug, slow way that Jin smiles as he brings Yamapi to completion makes him close his eyes, bile rising up in his throat because he’s become just what Kame told him he would--someone that is there when Jin wants a quick fuck (and Kame would know Yamapi remembers shouting back, words twisted and angry, words that crack the soft, fragile friendship he had with Kame).
three times,
clap your hands and forget the bad things
Yamapi keeps his thing with Jin quiet for seven months before Toma stumbles in on them grinding against one another in the elevator of Shibuya’s latest club offering. Yamapi doesn’t remember much of the conversation other than the burning mortification he’d felt, the way Toma’s gaze had felt like a block of cement on his bowed head. But what he does remember is Toma pulling Jin and Yamapi with him, grip strong, and shoving them towards a booth at the back of the room. He remembers Kame glancing up, face carefully blanking as he sees Jin all that history between them swept under awkwardness and Kame’s special brand of dismissal, Ryo’s eyes glittering with something, the way Maru had stepped up, pulled Jin into the booth, always the peace maker.
But then Toma suggests tequila shots and all Yamapi can feel is the soft welcoming burn of alcohol on his tongue, the pleasant dulling of his senses, Kame pulling him up onto the dance floor, sliding his hands along Yamapi’s arm and waving their hands in the air, familiar and normal. And the heavy weight of Jin’s eyes on his back even as he flirted with the pretty girl to his right.
wake up, wake up,
I don't need it so
It isn’t really a surprise to Yamapi, therefore, when he wakes up the next morning wrapped up in Jin’s sheets, every cliché in the book ticked as he watches the way Jin sprawls out across the bed (just like he used to), chest rising and falling in a familiar pattern.
He’s sliding out of the bed and into his clothes before he can really think it through, mortification and horror staining his cheeks, because all he can remember from last night is Jin pulling him out of the club, eager and horny, and the sharp, bitter look in Kame’s eyes.
He feels Jin shift behind him, a soft rustle of sheets and silk, and he practically runs for the door, stumbling through Jin’s unfamiliar apartment and out into the cold December air.
The walk back to the subway is short, the air clearing his mind, and he stumbles his way down to the Hibiya Line back to Roppongi, staying hunched over in his seat, head down, conscious of anyone noticing him despite the early hour.
It doesn’t surprise him when he comes out on the other end, stumbling his way up the steps of the fifth exit, to find seven missed calls and a single text from Jin.
---
I’m sorry. Please call me.
--
He snaps his phone shut, pushes it down into his pocket and sighs when he finally gets to his apartment, managing a cursory nod for the doorman before practically falling through the lift, impatiently counting down the seconds until it slides open on his floor, hurrying to get to his apartment.
The smell of coffee makes him sigh softly in relief, as he kicks off his shoes at the door and heads towards the kitchen. Kame doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully pouring coffee into two chipped, brightly painted cups.
“Breakfast is in the oven,” Kame says, pushing a cup towards Yamapi. His voice is bland, almost uninterested, but Yamapi can hear the soft undercurrents of hurt, the way his eyes flicker up and over him, resting briefly on the dark shadows under Yamapi’s eyes. His mouth tenses slightly, but he keeps quiet.
Yamapi nods, slowly sipping his coffee, feeling himself relax as the first shot of caffeine hits his system. He fiddles with the slightly wonky handle, mouth curving as he remembers the way Kame’s niece had presented the cheerfully decorated cups one Christmas three years ago. He flicks a look up at Kame and feels melancholy tug at his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words slipping out before he can really think them through, wincing when he sees Kame tense.
“It’s none of my business what you do,” Kame says flatly and Yamapi flinches slightly, hurt slicing through him, silly, stupid hurt that he shouldn’t be feeling because Kame doesn’t owe him anything, doesn’t have worry about hurting Kame’s feelings and a cold bed. At least not anymore, even if realistically he knows they’re better this way, that they’ve finally stopped hurting one another.
“I know,” he says. “But, I wanted to say it. To apologise to you.”
Kame shifts awkwardly, sliding his coffee cup onto the counter and sighs, mouth opening and Yamapi feels his stomach twist with nerves and anticipation. He flinches when his phone begins to trill--some ridiculous pop track from the Jimusho’s latest unit, something about lost dreams and love confessions, a long standing joke between him and Ryo--and sees Kame shut down, turning away because they both know who is ringing.
“I’m tired. I’ll see you later,” Kame says, tipping his coffee into the sink and padding softly round the counter towards his room.
Yamapi wants to shout after him, tell him that it doesn’t mean anything, not anymore, but the words die in his throat, and all that’s left is the shrill cry of lost dreams and sorrow.
make up, make up, grab it
One chance
Yamapi doesn’t think about it, at least not anymore, lets his mind blank until all that’s left is pleasure and the soft haze of alcohol. Drowns himself in Jin’s smell and Jin’s touch and Jin’s taste and Jin, Jin, Jin. And afterwards when the light dawns, cold and bright, he moves on.
Finished reading? Rate this fic!
Poll Team Future - Down and Out
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Pin
Summary: Yamapi tries to move on.
Prompt: KAT-TUN-Six Senses
Warnings: Language, smut, angst.
Notes: Thanks to N, R and L for all of your help. You’re the best a girl could ask for :)
one time,
put your hands up
Yamapi isn’t really sure how to define his relationship with Jin. Once upon a time they were best friends, joined at the hip, soul mates and all that other malarkey. But one sex scandal, several screaming matches later and Jin upped and left Japan for three years, cutting all ties, breaking apart an already ripping at the seams KAT-TUN, until he popped back into Yamapi’s life six months ago.
They’re not exactly friends though, at least not anymore. Yamapi doesn’t talk to Jin, doesn’t ring him in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep, doesn’t expect Jin to tell him his dreams and fears, not now that the threads that tied them together, made them mabudachi, have been cut.
And sure, Yamapi misses that because Jin was his best friend, his confidante, the one person that Yamapi knew was going to be there with him through thick and thin. But well. Things change and fifteen years in the Jimusho just means that Yamapi is more wary, more aware of who to trust and who not to, knows that when you leave the business you get wiped out.
But there’s something familiar about this, the press and pull between them, Jin breathing his name against his neck, tongue running across Yamapi’s bottom lip, the way they used to be before, two horny boys too desperate to find release to look anywhere else, slowly developing into something that made Yamapi’s heart sing with joy.
And that is what makes Yamapi return every weekend, makes him stand and make awkward conversation with Jin’s friends, lets his pretty friend Suki buy him tequila shots and then lets Jin shove him into a corner, mouth and hands greedy. And if at the end of the night he leaves feeling like a whore. Well. At least he knows Jin notices him.
sexy hips
moving to the rhythm
"Hurry up," Yamapi breathes, practically whining it, because he's had to put up with Jin all fucking evening, dressed in those tight pants and that low collared shirt, and fuck, he can see the edges of Jin's collar bones and the soft outline of the mark he made on Jin's neck two days ago when they fucked in the third floor bathroom.
"I am hurrying," Jin breathes against Yamapi's ear, tongue sliding against the corner of his mouth indecently, and if Jin doesn't get his hands down Yamapi's trousers and onto his cock soon he is going to die. And then Jin's hand is sliding down Yamapi’s stomach, rubbing against the soft trail of hair leading under his trousers and finally, finally, final--
“Mm, you look good,” Jin murmurs, his hand stopping and Yamapi has to fight back his own pleads because fuck it, Jin is not going to win this (not again, not like he used to back when Yamapi knew this was more than just casual fucking). But then Jin slides his hand just so, so that the silver ring on his hand catches against Yamapi’s cock and Yamapi can feel his legs buckling, the pleads slivering up his throat and onto his tongue, ready to meet Jin’s greedy ears and Yamapi is helpless to stop them.
The smug, slow way that Jin smiles as he brings Yamapi to completion makes him close his eyes, bile rising up in his throat because he’s become just what Kame told him he would--someone that is there when Jin wants a quick fuck (and Kame would know Yamapi remembers shouting back, words twisted and angry, words that crack the soft, fragile friendship he had with Kame).
three times,
clap your hands and forget the bad things
Yamapi keeps his thing with Jin quiet for seven months before Toma stumbles in on them grinding against one another in the elevator of Shibuya’s latest club offering. Yamapi doesn’t remember much of the conversation other than the burning mortification he’d felt, the way Toma’s gaze had felt like a block of cement on his bowed head. But what he does remember is Toma pulling Jin and Yamapi with him, grip strong, and shoving them towards a booth at the back of the room. He remembers Kame glancing up, face carefully blanking as he sees Jin all that history between them swept under awkwardness and Kame’s special brand of dismissal, Ryo’s eyes glittering with something, the way Maru had stepped up, pulled Jin into the booth, always the peace maker.
But then Toma suggests tequila shots and all Yamapi can feel is the soft welcoming burn of alcohol on his tongue, the pleasant dulling of his senses, Kame pulling him up onto the dance floor, sliding his hands along Yamapi’s arm and waving their hands in the air, familiar and normal. And the heavy weight of Jin’s eyes on his back even as he flirted with the pretty girl to his right.
wake up, wake up,
I don't need it so
It isn’t really a surprise to Yamapi, therefore, when he wakes up the next morning wrapped up in Jin’s sheets, every cliché in the book ticked as he watches the way Jin sprawls out across the bed (just like he used to), chest rising and falling in a familiar pattern.
He’s sliding out of the bed and into his clothes before he can really think it through, mortification and horror staining his cheeks, because all he can remember from last night is Jin pulling him out of the club, eager and horny, and the sharp, bitter look in Kame’s eyes.
He feels Jin shift behind him, a soft rustle of sheets and silk, and he practically runs for the door, stumbling through Jin’s unfamiliar apartment and out into the cold December air.
The walk back to the subway is short, the air clearing his mind, and he stumbles his way down to the Hibiya Line back to Roppongi, staying hunched over in his seat, head down, conscious of anyone noticing him despite the early hour.
It doesn’t surprise him when he comes out on the other end, stumbling his way up the steps of the fifth exit, to find seven missed calls and a single text from Jin.
---
I’m sorry. Please call me.
--
He snaps his phone shut, pushes it down into his pocket and sighs when he finally gets to his apartment, managing a cursory nod for the doorman before practically falling through the lift, impatiently counting down the seconds until it slides open on his floor, hurrying to get to his apartment.
The smell of coffee makes him sigh softly in relief, as he kicks off his shoes at the door and heads towards the kitchen. Kame doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully pouring coffee into two chipped, brightly painted cups.
“Breakfast is in the oven,” Kame says, pushing a cup towards Yamapi. His voice is bland, almost uninterested, but Yamapi can hear the soft undercurrents of hurt, the way his eyes flicker up and over him, resting briefly on the dark shadows under Yamapi’s eyes. His mouth tenses slightly, but he keeps quiet.
Yamapi nods, slowly sipping his coffee, feeling himself relax as the first shot of caffeine hits his system. He fiddles with the slightly wonky handle, mouth curving as he remembers the way Kame’s niece had presented the cheerfully decorated cups one Christmas three years ago. He flicks a look up at Kame and feels melancholy tug at his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words slipping out before he can really think them through, wincing when he sees Kame tense.
“It’s none of my business what you do,” Kame says flatly and Yamapi flinches slightly, hurt slicing through him, silly, stupid hurt that he shouldn’t be feeling because Kame doesn’t owe him anything, doesn’t have worry about hurting Kame’s feelings and a cold bed. At least not anymore, even if realistically he knows they’re better this way, that they’ve finally stopped hurting one another.
“I know,” he says. “But, I wanted to say it. To apologise to you.”
Kame shifts awkwardly, sliding his coffee cup onto the counter and sighs, mouth opening and Yamapi feels his stomach twist with nerves and anticipation. He flinches when his phone begins to trill--some ridiculous pop track from the Jimusho’s latest unit, something about lost dreams and love confessions, a long standing joke between him and Ryo--and sees Kame shut down, turning away because they both know who is ringing.
“I’m tired. I’ll see you later,” Kame says, tipping his coffee into the sink and padding softly round the counter towards his room.
Yamapi wants to shout after him, tell him that it doesn’t mean anything, not anymore, but the words die in his throat, and all that’s left is the shrill cry of lost dreams and sorrow.
make up, make up, grab it
One chance
Yamapi doesn’t think about it, at least not anymore, lets his mind blank until all that’s left is pleasure and the soft haze of alcohol. Drowns himself in Jin’s smell and Jin’s touch and Jin’s taste and Jin, Jin, Jin. And afterwards when the light dawns, cold and bright, he moves on.
Finished reading? Rate this fic!
Poll Team Future - Down and Out