Gift fic for aneighthdomain
To: aneighthdomain
From: wanderingreen
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Clause 21.7
Pairing/Group: Toma/Ohno, Takki/Pi, Nino/Okada, Sho/Jun, Nagase/Kinki
Rating: NC-17 kinda
Warnings: Crack!
Notes: :x I tried for smut as requested, I swear. But I hope you enjoy this anyway!
Summary: Tegoshi Yuya is up to no good at the annual Johnny's Jimusho (company) gathering but Taichi is the only one who figures it out. Also, Johnnys are absolutely horrible at following the rules. Post-2010 countdown fic, let's just assume Arashi will be there.
Tegoshi reached the ladle first. “I’ll pour the sake, Matchy-sama!”
Taichi knew the brat was up to no good. Why else would he have that shit-eating grin plastered across his face? He ignored the fact that Tegoshi usually had that same wide smile. Others might be fooled by it but Taichi prided himself on -
Tegoshi grinned at him winningly, “Taichi-san?” No good would come out of this, no one ever called him Taichi-san.
Taichi stretched out his cup, retracted his hand, and found himself staring at the liquid in his glass. Damn brat. He examined it carefully, determined to find something wrong with it.
“There’s something wrong with this,” he said out loud.
“Is there?” Higashi-san arched an eyebrow in his direction. Taichi quaked inwardly even as he seethed at the injustice. Koichi was sitting less than a feet away with a floral umbrella in his pink drink that was definitely not sake.
“No - “
“I procured the barrel myself.”
“Maybe he considers himself too good for sake these days,” Matsuoka laughed. Taichi sneaked him a glare, he would pay for this.
“You don’t drink sake anymore?” Yamaguchi’s quip made heads turn toward them.
“It must be age. He’s going to start becoming like leader soon. Only bourbon and nothing else,” Matsuoka mourned.
“Ah, I’m sorry, should I take it back?” Tegoshi was standing behind him. How had the brat finished so fast?
“Nonsense. He’ll drink it. You’re done with everyone?”
“Kitayama-kun said he’d deal with the rest.”
“Good, good. Join us for the toast then,” Higashiyama beckoned the boy.
“You don’t have a glass!” Taichi pointed out. Surely they had to see -
“I can’t drink much tonight. Tegomass has a New Year’s concert tomorrow, Taichi-san.”
Tegoshi wandered off to wedge himself between Kamenashi and Koki as Matchy clambered to his feet and waited for the room to quiet.
“To another successful year! Cheers!”
A collective roar filled the place as the men of Johnny’s Jimusho toasted to their future. Taichi stared at the cup of juice Tegoshi held. His senses were warning him not to down the glass of sake but he could feel Higashi-san watching him with feigned disinterest.
To hell with it. It was New Year’s after all. What could the boy have possibly done to the sake? He drained the glass in a single gulp and called out for seconds merrily. And then he saw it, Ninomiya was smirking at him.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
***
Ohno blinked blearily and raised his cup in yet another toast. He could feel the alcohol hitting him. A look at Taichi stripping his last piece of clothing off told him enough; he wasn’t the only victim. He laughed dopily and turned to Toma. “Want to get some air?”
He might as well have some fun with this. Toma looked at him in confusion but nodded immediately.
“Where are you going?” Jun demanded.
“Just out to the roof,” Ohno shrugged. He wasn’t going to dissuade the younger man from joining them. It would make things harder but it might be worth it. To his disappointment, Sho chose that moment to groan.
“Sakurai, slow down!”
Toma barely managed to follow Ohno as he weaved through the crowd of Johnnys, heading in the vague direction of an exit. Once, he had to stop and unzip his jacket. The crowded room had begun to overwhelm him; every brush seemed to send shock-waves of heat through his body. That sake must have been more potent than he thought.
When he looked up, Ohno had disappeared up the fire escape. Chill air lanced through him and seeped cold into his bones when he followed but the heat coloring his face refused to subside. “Took you long enough, Toma-kun,” the other smirked. Toma gulped. That look in his eyes …
‘Let’s practice together. I’d like to try and get in character more,’ he’d pressed the older man for the chance. Ohno had just nodded.
Minutes later Toma was flush, face to face with the Maou, feeling exposed, stripped bare by those dark eyes.
‘I know everything, Serizawa,’ the voice sent chills down his spine. He tried to respond and fumbled around for lines. But those indomitable eyes bored into him and he wanted to move closer, to do anything to ...
The next moment he was stumbling away, breaking from the scene.
‘I, sorry, I forgot the lines. I think, I’ll just practice by myself,’ he babbled before fleeing from the room. Not once did he look up.
Ohno gazed at him intently before stepping forward and backing him onto the door.
“Oh -“ the name trailed off into a strangled moan as a leg slipped between his thighs, pressing against him firmly. Fingers swept over his shoulders, dropping his new jacket to the floor, before they curled around his collar and forced him down, down so his mouth could be plundered, kisses pressed against his lips to coax them open. He wanted to protest. Really, he didn’t want to be stuck on a rooftop on a wintry New Year morning with Ohno Satoshi’s mouth devouring him as his hands shimmied over his spine, eliciting moans with each caress before slipping below the elastic band around his waist.
Instead he found his mouth opening wider, needing more, wanting more, even the teeth nipping at his lips, and the almost painful friction against his groin. It took the cold sensation of metal - the door handle - against his back for him to realize that his jeans were somewhere, anywhere that was no longer him.
Toma jerked back then and gasped for breath. “Why me?” is all he could think to say. The older man let go and disappointment sparked through him before he felt a tug. He bit back a whimper as heated flesh brushed against harsh denim and Ohno pressed him flush against the door, sliding against him in a rhythm that left him grasping for air.
“Why not?”
Clause 21.7 should have sprung to mind but Toma reached down, overwhelmed and needing both more and less. His fingers trembled over the growing bump, taking in the familiar and unfamiliar as he dragged the zipper down and hooked his fingers under the black elastic band. Black, it had been grey before. Always grey, not that he had been looking. Ohno had just always been rather free about things like keeping his pants on at all times and … he was going to hell. This was Ohno-senpai, for gods sakes. Ohno grunted when he had to wait a second too long and removed the last barriers of clothing.
“Hurry up, Touma,” that made Toma jerk again. Toma, he was Toma and this was Ohno and oh gods what in nine fucking heavens was he -
Ohno must have read something in his eyes because he reached out the next moment and grabbed Toma’s hands, forcing him to cup their erections together. Both of them groaned, the sounds melding together as they moved against each other.
“Don’t think, just feel,” he might have imagined the words but they let him lose it. His hands were sore and a strange sensation, not quite unpleasant or pleasant, was burning through him, but all he really felt was how close he was to the edge. Just a little more. Toma bit down on his lips as he came, still too used to muffled sounds and secrecy. His head collided hard against the door and he felt rather than saw hot liquid spurt out over their hands, dripping down, all over his new jacket and Ohno’s pants.
He wondered if an apology was required, because really, what sort of kouhai got spunk on a senpai’s jeans and didn’t offer to have them dry-cleaned? It just wasn’t done, but he never got the chance. Ohno was still moving against him, and his cock was unbearably sensitive, the nerve endings screaming out and drowning him. He didn’t really whimper because Ohno’s lips were over his, and their noses were squashed together, and then Ohno was coming. Heat bloomed across his groin again and he winced as cum dried over his skin. Without the friction and the heat, Toma decided, he really didn’t like being undressed in winter.
“We should do this indoors, next time,” the thought slipped out and his cheeks burned at the presumption. Ohno smiled at him lazily, sated for the moment.
“That’s no fun.”
***
“You’re such a slut,” he wished he could take the words back because the man kneeling between his legs stopped and threw him a challenging smirk.
“I have you to thank for that, sen-pai,” the syllables lingered in the air between them before the brunette dipped down again, plump lips stretching wide over an engorged organ, tongue flexing around it skillfully. Takizawa groaned. It had been too damn long, this was a relationship that he’d deemed beyond salvageable.
He had no idea why this was happening, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that one was accosted and barreled into an empty cubicle by Yamashita Tomohisa. And perhaps (if your name wasn’t Takizawa Hideaki), it was once in nine lives that Yamashita would go down on another man, full lips completely flattened, jaws opened wide, usually pristine bangs in a mess as hands and tongue expertly fondled sensitive skin.
Yamashita twitched when a particularly long strand fell into his eyes and Takizawa cursed as the tongue pressing against the underside of his cock stilled.
“You’re primping, now?” he groaned incredulously when Yamashita reached up and flicked hair out of his eyes. If Takizawa Hideaki were a better man, he’d have used the pause, the momentary loss of the spell those furious brown eyes could cast over him, to extricate himself from the situation there and then.
His fingers raked through the long brown locks, pulling hair back forcefully and tearing a surprised cry from Yamashita. “Finish what you started or I’ll rip it all out,” he snarled. He’d never said he was a good, decent senpai after all. That was just a label everyone tried to pin on him. They’d never known about the stolen trysts in the cupboards, bathroom cubicles, supposedly locked rooms, and the one time the old man had caught them at it. There hadn’t been repercussions, Johnny had just closed the door softly and gone on his way. If either of them had cared to look up in the moments between, they’d have caught a glint of perverse amusement in those aged, rheumy eyes. The old man hadn't written clause 21.7 after all. That was the fault of the politicians trying to make talent contracts nice and neat and rule-compliant in all the ways that didn't matter.
As it was, that single scare had been enough for both of them. The progression from fuck buddies to colleagues with a history had been more forced than going from Takizawa and Yamapi to friends with benefits, but they’d made it happen. Their careers were their lives.
His knuckles were red, still tensed, when the combination of light fingers on his perineum and tongue scraping just under his head brought him perilously close to edge. He wanted to finish things differently, but barely managed to slam in and wrench out, his fingers finally uncurling as orgasm crashed over him and he could do nothing more than ride it out.
He gulped when his eyes could focus again, languorous post-orgasmic haze disappearing at the sight in front of him. Yamashita was busy bringing himself off, ripped blue jeans puddled around him, and tongue stuck out as his hands worked methodically.
Takizawa reached out, not to help, but to trace the lines of cum marring a cheekbone, gumming eyelashes together such that Yamashita only had a single eye open. He dragged his fingers down, smearing the viscous substance all over in the process, and presented the digits before a pair of puffy lips, seeking entrance. Yamashita looked worn, out of practice, Takizawa’s mind supplied with glee, but he complied anyway, taking the fingers into his mouth, his tongue laving at the digits until they were sopping wet. He was still touching himself, but at a less frantic pace now, feverishly reining himself in because he knew what would come next.
Takizawa bent, thighs pinning the other to the ground and placing his full weight on the younger man as he slid a hand up a muscled chest appreciatively, his fingers sought out and found a dark nub before pinching it lightly. When the strokes grew erratic and forceful again, he shoved away Yamashita’s hands, penetrating him with a slick finger and eventually curling his own hand around Yamashita’s cock. It doesn’t take long for Yamashita to come, convulsing around Takizawa’s fingers and in his hand, mouth thrown open in a cry. Takizawa watched him for a long moment, waiting for his chest to stop heaving before he removed his fingers gently.
Fingernails dug into his shoulder painfully when he tried to stand. “I’m not finished,” Yamashita rasped out, his dark eyes glaring at Takizawa.
Takizawa just smirked. “I’d say you just finished, Pi-chan.” He couldn’t resist the dig.
“Sho you fucker, just get on with it!” Yamashita coughed and looked down, his cum-stained cheeks reddening. Takizawa chuckled at his reaction to their rather loud neighbours, some things never changed.
“It looks like there’s something in the air tonight, eh? Or does this happen every Countdown? If I’d known, I’d have come around more often,” Takizawa waggled his eyebrows.
“The air? I blame the sake.”
“I haven’t had any of the sake.”
“Me neither.”
***
Toma staggered down the fire escape. Ohno snagged him as he stumbled over the last few steps only to pause before the door. “Should we, erm - you know - I mean, you should go first,” Toma gestured inarticulately. They had to try to sneak in discreetly; easier said than done when the room you were trying to sneak into was full of gossipy, overprotective senpai. Then again, it was New Year’s and any Johnny who was a Johnny would be falling down drunk by now. Not that he knew when now was and …
Ohno was staring at him. Well, not exactly staring, it was more accurate to say that Ohno was blinking in the vague direction of Ikuta Toma.
“We can go together.”
Toma blushed.
“It’s okay, no one will notice. Senpai and alcohol don't mix well.” That's right, they would all be drunk and all over each other. Perhaps someone would have called some girls up by now. No one would notice.
Except the moment he walked in, Aiba snapped a picture and mailed it to Yokoyama Yu with a “See what you’re missing~” caption. Yoko replied with yet another picture of a bunch of asses no one could recognize. Apparently, he had been corrupting the Kansai Juniors.
“That's impossible, right Toma? I mean, Yoko? The man wouldn't have the nerve. He doesn't even dare to go skinny-dipping. I bet that's a random picture Nishikido-chan looked up on the internet for him!” Aiba gesticulated wildly with his phone and knocked over a glass, spilling strong-smelling liquid all over Toma's jeans. “There, now you can pretend it's sake all over your pants,” he stage-whispered and giggled. Toma felt himself flush red and then white with mortification. There were large damp areas spreading across his new jeans and calling attention to the pair of dried stains he had missed. Aiba had just made things worse, much worse.
Toma would have thrown Ohno a helpless look, if Ohno had been standing two paces to his left, right where he had been mere seconds ago. He scanned the room and found the man moving in on Kato Shigeaki. A crying Kato Shigeaki.
“Kato-kun, are you alright?” He moved to help Ohno with the drunk man.
“I'm fine, I just - “ Kato broke off into a sob. “I get like this when I drink. Except -” Another sob. “I don't usually - I don't know what's wrong with me today.” Kato bawled into Ohno's shoulder. “I don't usually get horny when I drink. What the hell is wrong with me? It's embarrassing enough that I cry, and Koyama,” Kato made a small forlorn noise. “Koyama told the whole world about it. And now I just can't stop thinking about sex. Is this normal? Will I have to go see a psychiatrist?”
“Don't worry, Shige-chan. There's nothing wrong. Someone must have spiked the sake tonight. Besides, I can always help you,” Ohno smiled at Kato fondly. “And I'm sure Touma-kun will be willing to help as well.”
Oh no, he didn't. This was like Takizawa and Yamashita all over again. He'd walked in on them once and had to deal with suggestive looks for months. What was it with Johnnys and threesomes? Was the concept of fidelity really so hard to stomach? One step, two steps back; Toma slowly extricated himself from the mess. Thankfully, the exit was close at hand and Toma made a run for it the moment he was out the door.
But the elevator was slow. The celebration had been held fifty floors up, in one of Ginza's swanky watering holes. The Jimusho didn't usually celebrate the New Year in such style, but the higher-ups had actually sprung for this. Imagine that.
The panel in front of him lit up and Toma limped into the empty lift with a sigh of relief. But just as the doors began to slide close and deliver him to safety, a slender brunette darted into the elevator, sending Toma diving for the buttons. When he righted himself, he eyed her lank brown curls, runny makeup and oddly muscular thighs warily. The bar took up the entire floor and the Jimusho had rented out the whole bar. Was she a crazed fangirl who had been thrown out? Or perhaps a call-girl who had been rejected by one of the capricious men of Johnny's Jimusho? Maybe she was a spurned lover?
“Ikuta-senpai, you won't tell anyone, will you?”
“Te-Tegoshi?” It wasn't uncommon for a Johnny to cross-dress. And Toma did know of a few who carried out the practice privately. But even foreknowledge couldn't have prepared him for the experience of hearing Tegoshi Yuya's voice emit from the entirely too feminine figure standing beside him. Even with smeared mascara, too much blush and a terribly unrealistic mousy brown wig, the girl - man - was beautiful.
“I tried my best and it didn't work!” Tegoshi was attempting not to cry in a very manly manner, his jaw set stubbornly and eyes hard under the streaks of makeup. Where was Yamashita? This was the second teary NEWS member he'd been waylaid by in as many minutes! Not that Yamashita would have been much of a help, his method of consoling crying men was a hand hovering awkwardly over the distraught person's shoulder. No, this was up to Toma; he hated watching girls cry even more than he hated playing senpai.
“What happened?” There, he'd opened Pandora's box.
“Nagase-kun. I know he likes me. And I - “ Toma made an impatient noise when Tegoshi paused. “It's just, he can't even think of an excuse and keeps citing clause 21.7 at me - relationship between Jimusho employees are prohibited - as though anyone cares! And he's always been into girls before. So I thought, with some persuasion, he'd finally cave. Do you think he likes blondes more?”
Toma just shook his head mutely, using the action to hide his growing horror. Yamashita was in a group with this kid? He wished he hadn't asked. But at least the girl - guy - no longer looked as though someone had killed his dog. And Toma could understand why he'd been upset. He'd spotted Nagase all over Tsuyoshi while a hopelessly inebriated Koichi barked directions at them from a corner. It was hardly a remarkable occurrence, especially when they were all drunk. But he knew Tegoshi would not take lightly to the reminder.
“ - and I even followed Ninomiya-kun's suggestion but -“ The words Ninomiya and suggestion, in the same sentence, had Toma scrabbling for the buttons again as he attempted to get the lift to return them to the fiftieth floor.
“What did Ninomiya tell you?” Toma didn't whip out the scary senpai card often but he'd learned from the best.
“Just, to spike the sake with this,” Tegoshi fished out a packet from his fake cleavage. Toma eyed it tentatively. Was this the reason why he'd followed Ohno out to the roof? Anger coursed through him.
“You spiked the sake that everyone was going to drink?”
Tegoshi looked unconcerned. “Ninomiya-kun said it would be fine.”
“How long have you been in the Jimusho?”
“Seven years.”
“Seven years, and you still trust Nino?”
The doors dinged open at that moment and a thoroughly debauched looking Yamashita fell through it. Takizawa wasn't far behind.
“Toma - what's going on?” Takizawa frowned at the fingers Toma had curled around one of Tegoshi's slender arms.
“It's nothing, we were just talking.”
“In the elevator? You know how much trouble you could get into,” Takizawa threw Toma a leery look. “Yamapi, you owe me. I told you he was a ladies man.”
Toma looked up at Tegoshi's pretty face and that ridiculous wig, and oh gods Takizawa thought that -
“No, you owe me, take me out for dinner today. That's Tegoshi,” Yamashita smirked at Takizawa.
“No! I mean, no! I mean, this isn't what it looks like. And how could the two of you bet on that? Yamashita!” Toma frothed.
Yamashita regarded him strangely. “But that is Tegoshi. Unless ... you didn't know? Well, I wouldn't blame you. Tegoshi's very good at it,” he bestowed a proud smile on his band mate and Tegoshi beamed back sickeningly.
“We weren't doing anything! Tegoshi was just telling me that he spiked the sake and drugged the entire Jimusho on Nino's suggestion! That's probably why the two of you are back together.” He expected outrage and murderous anger. Maybe Takizawa would give Tegoshi that patented look of disappointment that made even Kitayama want to crawl into a hole and die. Instead, Takizawa merely exchanged a look with Yamashita.
“We know.”
“What?”
“We heard Jun and Sho in the cubicle next to us. Nothing short of a miracle could have made that happen.”
“And you're not mad? That you - because of the sake?” Toma sputtered.
“I didn't have any of the sake, just whiskey,” Yamashita explained.
“And I was in the restroom for legitimate reasons until he showed up and barreled me into a cubicle.”
“Well, I'm not happy that he used this on the whole Jimusho,” Toma waved the packet around. He was tired and pissed, and he'd fucked his boyhood crush because of this self-centered little bastard. Yamashita stared at them, looking from Toma to Tegoshi with wide eyes. He'd never seen Toma get this mad at a kouhai before. It was unthinkable really.
Takizawa let out a sudden laugh and plucked the packet from Toma's hand before upending it on his palm. He scooped up some of the white crystals and tasted them before anyone could stop him, letting out a chuckle as he crunched them between his gleaming white teeth.
“Nino! Oh Nino!” He threw back his head in a noiseless chortle, genuine tears springing to his eyes as he appreciated the joke while the others looked on in bemusement. “Toma, taste it!” He lifted a finger to Toma's lips insistently. “Come on, taste it! Nino did this before back when we were Juniors, you must have been too young to remember. He tricked all of us into thinking we'd been drugged!"
It was sugar. Toma glared down at the packet in horror. “Sugar,” he muttered. “Are you sure you got the right packet?”
“Sugar? Ninomiya-kun must have given me the wrong packet! That explains everything!” Tegoshi rushed out of the lift lobby. The trio still clustered around the elevator door shot each other looks of helpless exasperation.
“It still doesn't explain things. Why did Jun and Sho finally make a move on each other? And why are the two of you back together tonight, after all these years?”
Yamashita shrugged. “Perhaps it was just the atmosphere. After you left with Ohno, Taichi stripped because Okada and Nino were egging him on. Joshima-san wasn't far behind. And you know how Nagase gets when drunk. Then Aiba started yelling about Yokoyama sending him pictures of Kanjani, and he tried to get everyone to take their pants off for pictures - “ Yamashita gulped. “Everything just snowballed from there. I tried to escape to the men's room.”
“You went looking for me, you mean,” Takizawa ribbed him playfully.
“You wish!”
“Toma left with Ohno, huh? I'm betting he didn't come back for a very long while.”
“No, actually he didn't. Where did you go?” Yamashita frowned at Toma.
“I'm just going to get some air. I'll see you guys tomorrow then,” Toma headed back into the bar.
“Does that mean you owe me dinner?”
Takizawa shrugged nonchalantly at the question. “We didn't actually catch him at it. There's no proof … but I'll take you out to dinner anyway.” He grinned mischievously, holding it until Yamashita's annoyed pout turned into a sweet smile.
“You know, there should be a clause 21.8 - never trust Nino. Poor Toma.” Takizawa shook his head in a mock display of sympathy.
“He's not that bad. I think there should be a clause warning Juniors against you!” Yamashita ducked as Takizawa tried to cuff him on the head.
“Did Aiba really try to take your pants off?”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“Did it remind you of P.P.O.I? You were so scarred for weeks and refused to go with him to Disneyland until I agreed to tag along.”
“Sometimes, I really hate you.”
***
The red cloaked hero slowly stalked his foe. It was tall and venom leaked steadily from its mandibles when excited. Slime was splattered over the length of forest floor it paced, guarding the entrance to the stone cavern. If luck was on his side, this would be the right cavern. He timed it. Exactly fifteen steps facing north before it turned around again and paced back. Fifteen steps south.
One, two, three. Too near, it would sense him. Seven, eight, and then he pounced. His blade flashed lethally, carving the creature from top to bottom before it could whistle for reinforcements. He left it twitching in a pool of lifeblood as he snuck into the cavern. There it was, the portal! He leapt through it and -
“I cleared another level!” Nino whooped, his outstretched fist narrowly missing Okada's temple. Okada just grinned indulgently.
“Does that mean you're done?”
“Not yet, just one more level. It's so good to be able to spend New Year's day in peace.” Nino settled back against Okada for another hour of gaming.
“All thanks to your plan.”
“Do you think Taichi will forgive me?” Nino asked absently.
“He has to find out first, doesn't he?” Okada sneered.
“Can I tell him it was your idea?”
“No.”
***
From: wanderingreen
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Clause 21.7
Pairing/Group: Toma/Ohno, Takki/Pi, Nino/Okada, Sho/Jun, Nagase/Kinki
Rating: NC-17 kinda
Warnings: Crack!
Notes: :x I tried for smut as requested, I swear. But I hope you enjoy this anyway!
Summary: Tegoshi Yuya is up to no good at the annual Johnny's Jimusho (company) gathering but Taichi is the only one who figures it out. Also, Johnnys are absolutely horrible at following the rules. Post-2010 countdown fic, let's just assume Arashi will be there.
Tegoshi reached the ladle first. “I’ll pour the sake, Matchy-sama!”
Taichi knew the brat was up to no good. Why else would he have that shit-eating grin plastered across his face? He ignored the fact that Tegoshi usually had that same wide smile. Others might be fooled by it but Taichi prided himself on -
Tegoshi grinned at him winningly, “Taichi-san?” No good would come out of this, no one ever called him Taichi-san.
Taichi stretched out his cup, retracted his hand, and found himself staring at the liquid in his glass. Damn brat. He examined it carefully, determined to find something wrong with it.
“There’s something wrong with this,” he said out loud.
“Is there?” Higashi-san arched an eyebrow in his direction. Taichi quaked inwardly even as he seethed at the injustice. Koichi was sitting less than a feet away with a floral umbrella in his pink drink that was definitely not sake.
“No - “
“I procured the barrel myself.”
“Maybe he considers himself too good for sake these days,” Matsuoka laughed. Taichi sneaked him a glare, he would pay for this.
“You don’t drink sake anymore?” Yamaguchi’s quip made heads turn toward them.
“It must be age. He’s going to start becoming like leader soon. Only bourbon and nothing else,” Matsuoka mourned.
“Ah, I’m sorry, should I take it back?” Tegoshi was standing behind him. How had the brat finished so fast?
“Nonsense. He’ll drink it. You’re done with everyone?”
“Kitayama-kun said he’d deal with the rest.”
“Good, good. Join us for the toast then,” Higashiyama beckoned the boy.
“You don’t have a glass!” Taichi pointed out. Surely they had to see -
“I can’t drink much tonight. Tegomass has a New Year’s concert tomorrow, Taichi-san.”
Tegoshi wandered off to wedge himself between Kamenashi and Koki as Matchy clambered to his feet and waited for the room to quiet.
“To another successful year! Cheers!”
A collective roar filled the place as the men of Johnny’s Jimusho toasted to their future. Taichi stared at the cup of juice Tegoshi held. His senses were warning him not to down the glass of sake but he could feel Higashi-san watching him with feigned disinterest.
To hell with it. It was New Year’s after all. What could the boy have possibly done to the sake? He drained the glass in a single gulp and called out for seconds merrily. And then he saw it, Ninomiya was smirking at him.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
***
Ohno blinked blearily and raised his cup in yet another toast. He could feel the alcohol hitting him. A look at Taichi stripping his last piece of clothing off told him enough; he wasn’t the only victim. He laughed dopily and turned to Toma. “Want to get some air?”
He might as well have some fun with this. Toma looked at him in confusion but nodded immediately.
“Where are you going?” Jun demanded.
“Just out to the roof,” Ohno shrugged. He wasn’t going to dissuade the younger man from joining them. It would make things harder but it might be worth it. To his disappointment, Sho chose that moment to groan.
“Sakurai, slow down!”
Toma barely managed to follow Ohno as he weaved through the crowd of Johnnys, heading in the vague direction of an exit. Once, he had to stop and unzip his jacket. The crowded room had begun to overwhelm him; every brush seemed to send shock-waves of heat through his body. That sake must have been more potent than he thought.
When he looked up, Ohno had disappeared up the fire escape. Chill air lanced through him and seeped cold into his bones when he followed but the heat coloring his face refused to subside. “Took you long enough, Toma-kun,” the other smirked. Toma gulped. That look in his eyes …
‘Let’s practice together. I’d like to try and get in character more,’ he’d pressed the older man for the chance. Ohno had just nodded.
Minutes later Toma was flush, face to face with the Maou, feeling exposed, stripped bare by those dark eyes.
‘I know everything, Serizawa,’ the voice sent chills down his spine. He tried to respond and fumbled around for lines. But those indomitable eyes bored into him and he wanted to move closer, to do anything to ...
The next moment he was stumbling away, breaking from the scene.
‘I, sorry, I forgot the lines. I think, I’ll just practice by myself,’ he babbled before fleeing from the room. Not once did he look up.
Ohno gazed at him intently before stepping forward and backing him onto the door.
“Oh -“ the name trailed off into a strangled moan as a leg slipped between his thighs, pressing against him firmly. Fingers swept over his shoulders, dropping his new jacket to the floor, before they curled around his collar and forced him down, down so his mouth could be plundered, kisses pressed against his lips to coax them open. He wanted to protest. Really, he didn’t want to be stuck on a rooftop on a wintry New Year morning with Ohno Satoshi’s mouth devouring him as his hands shimmied over his spine, eliciting moans with each caress before slipping below the elastic band around his waist.
Instead he found his mouth opening wider, needing more, wanting more, even the teeth nipping at his lips, and the almost painful friction against his groin. It took the cold sensation of metal - the door handle - against his back for him to realize that his jeans were somewhere, anywhere that was no longer him.
Toma jerked back then and gasped for breath. “Why me?” is all he could think to say. The older man let go and disappointment sparked through him before he felt a tug. He bit back a whimper as heated flesh brushed against harsh denim and Ohno pressed him flush against the door, sliding against him in a rhythm that left him grasping for air.
“Why not?”
Clause 21.7 should have sprung to mind but Toma reached down, overwhelmed and needing both more and less. His fingers trembled over the growing bump, taking in the familiar and unfamiliar as he dragged the zipper down and hooked his fingers under the black elastic band. Black, it had been grey before. Always grey, not that he had been looking. Ohno had just always been rather free about things like keeping his pants on at all times and … he was going to hell. This was Ohno-senpai, for gods sakes. Ohno grunted when he had to wait a second too long and removed the last barriers of clothing.
“Hurry up, Touma,” that made Toma jerk again. Toma, he was Toma and this was Ohno and oh gods what in nine fucking heavens was he -
Ohno must have read something in his eyes because he reached out the next moment and grabbed Toma’s hands, forcing him to cup their erections together. Both of them groaned, the sounds melding together as they moved against each other.
“Don’t think, just feel,” he might have imagined the words but they let him lose it. His hands were sore and a strange sensation, not quite unpleasant or pleasant, was burning through him, but all he really felt was how close he was to the edge. Just a little more. Toma bit down on his lips as he came, still too used to muffled sounds and secrecy. His head collided hard against the door and he felt rather than saw hot liquid spurt out over their hands, dripping down, all over his new jacket and Ohno’s pants.
He wondered if an apology was required, because really, what sort of kouhai got spunk on a senpai’s jeans and didn’t offer to have them dry-cleaned? It just wasn’t done, but he never got the chance. Ohno was still moving against him, and his cock was unbearably sensitive, the nerve endings screaming out and drowning him. He didn’t really whimper because Ohno’s lips were over his, and their noses were squashed together, and then Ohno was coming. Heat bloomed across his groin again and he winced as cum dried over his skin. Without the friction and the heat, Toma decided, he really didn’t like being undressed in winter.
“We should do this indoors, next time,” the thought slipped out and his cheeks burned at the presumption. Ohno smiled at him lazily, sated for the moment.
“That’s no fun.”
***
“You’re such a slut,” he wished he could take the words back because the man kneeling between his legs stopped and threw him a challenging smirk.
“I have you to thank for that, sen-pai,” the syllables lingered in the air between them before the brunette dipped down again, plump lips stretching wide over an engorged organ, tongue flexing around it skillfully. Takizawa groaned. It had been too damn long, this was a relationship that he’d deemed beyond salvageable.
He had no idea why this was happening, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that one was accosted and barreled into an empty cubicle by Yamashita Tomohisa. And perhaps (if your name wasn’t Takizawa Hideaki), it was once in nine lives that Yamashita would go down on another man, full lips completely flattened, jaws opened wide, usually pristine bangs in a mess as hands and tongue expertly fondled sensitive skin.
Yamashita twitched when a particularly long strand fell into his eyes and Takizawa cursed as the tongue pressing against the underside of his cock stilled.
“You’re primping, now?” he groaned incredulously when Yamashita reached up and flicked hair out of his eyes. If Takizawa Hideaki were a better man, he’d have used the pause, the momentary loss of the spell those furious brown eyes could cast over him, to extricate himself from the situation there and then.
His fingers raked through the long brown locks, pulling hair back forcefully and tearing a surprised cry from Yamashita. “Finish what you started or I’ll rip it all out,” he snarled. He’d never said he was a good, decent senpai after all. That was just a label everyone tried to pin on him. They’d never known about the stolen trysts in the cupboards, bathroom cubicles, supposedly locked rooms, and the one time the old man had caught them at it. There hadn’t been repercussions, Johnny had just closed the door softly and gone on his way. If either of them had cared to look up in the moments between, they’d have caught a glint of perverse amusement in those aged, rheumy eyes. The old man hadn't written clause 21.7 after all. That was the fault of the politicians trying to make talent contracts nice and neat and rule-compliant in all the ways that didn't matter.
As it was, that single scare had been enough for both of them. The progression from fuck buddies to colleagues with a history had been more forced than going from Takizawa and Yamapi to friends with benefits, but they’d made it happen. Their careers were their lives.
His knuckles were red, still tensed, when the combination of light fingers on his perineum and tongue scraping just under his head brought him perilously close to edge. He wanted to finish things differently, but barely managed to slam in and wrench out, his fingers finally uncurling as orgasm crashed over him and he could do nothing more than ride it out.
He gulped when his eyes could focus again, languorous post-orgasmic haze disappearing at the sight in front of him. Yamashita was busy bringing himself off, ripped blue jeans puddled around him, and tongue stuck out as his hands worked methodically.
Takizawa reached out, not to help, but to trace the lines of cum marring a cheekbone, gumming eyelashes together such that Yamashita only had a single eye open. He dragged his fingers down, smearing the viscous substance all over in the process, and presented the digits before a pair of puffy lips, seeking entrance. Yamashita looked worn, out of practice, Takizawa’s mind supplied with glee, but he complied anyway, taking the fingers into his mouth, his tongue laving at the digits until they were sopping wet. He was still touching himself, but at a less frantic pace now, feverishly reining himself in because he knew what would come next.
Takizawa bent, thighs pinning the other to the ground and placing his full weight on the younger man as he slid a hand up a muscled chest appreciatively, his fingers sought out and found a dark nub before pinching it lightly. When the strokes grew erratic and forceful again, he shoved away Yamashita’s hands, penetrating him with a slick finger and eventually curling his own hand around Yamashita’s cock. It doesn’t take long for Yamashita to come, convulsing around Takizawa’s fingers and in his hand, mouth thrown open in a cry. Takizawa watched him for a long moment, waiting for his chest to stop heaving before he removed his fingers gently.
Fingernails dug into his shoulder painfully when he tried to stand. “I’m not finished,” Yamashita rasped out, his dark eyes glaring at Takizawa.
Takizawa just smirked. “I’d say you just finished, Pi-chan.” He couldn’t resist the dig.
“Sho you fucker, just get on with it!” Yamashita coughed and looked down, his cum-stained cheeks reddening. Takizawa chuckled at his reaction to their rather loud neighbours, some things never changed.
“It looks like there’s something in the air tonight, eh? Or does this happen every Countdown? If I’d known, I’d have come around more often,” Takizawa waggled his eyebrows.
“The air? I blame the sake.”
“I haven’t had any of the sake.”
“Me neither.”
***
Toma staggered down the fire escape. Ohno snagged him as he stumbled over the last few steps only to pause before the door. “Should we, erm - you know - I mean, you should go first,” Toma gestured inarticulately. They had to try to sneak in discreetly; easier said than done when the room you were trying to sneak into was full of gossipy, overprotective senpai. Then again, it was New Year’s and any Johnny who was a Johnny would be falling down drunk by now. Not that he knew when now was and …
Ohno was staring at him. Well, not exactly staring, it was more accurate to say that Ohno was blinking in the vague direction of Ikuta Toma.
“We can go together.”
Toma blushed.
“It’s okay, no one will notice. Senpai and alcohol don't mix well.” That's right, they would all be drunk and all over each other. Perhaps someone would have called some girls up by now. No one would notice.
Except the moment he walked in, Aiba snapped a picture and mailed it to Yokoyama Yu with a “See what you’re missing~” caption. Yoko replied with yet another picture of a bunch of asses no one could recognize. Apparently, he had been corrupting the Kansai Juniors.
“That's impossible, right Toma? I mean, Yoko? The man wouldn't have the nerve. He doesn't even dare to go skinny-dipping. I bet that's a random picture Nishikido-chan looked up on the internet for him!” Aiba gesticulated wildly with his phone and knocked over a glass, spilling strong-smelling liquid all over Toma's jeans. “There, now you can pretend it's sake all over your pants,” he stage-whispered and giggled. Toma felt himself flush red and then white with mortification. There were large damp areas spreading across his new jeans and calling attention to the pair of dried stains he had missed. Aiba had just made things worse, much worse.
Toma would have thrown Ohno a helpless look, if Ohno had been standing two paces to his left, right where he had been mere seconds ago. He scanned the room and found the man moving in on Kato Shigeaki. A crying Kato Shigeaki.
“Kato-kun, are you alright?” He moved to help Ohno with the drunk man.
“I'm fine, I just - “ Kato broke off into a sob. “I get like this when I drink. Except -” Another sob. “I don't usually - I don't know what's wrong with me today.” Kato bawled into Ohno's shoulder. “I don't usually get horny when I drink. What the hell is wrong with me? It's embarrassing enough that I cry, and Koyama,” Kato made a small forlorn noise. “Koyama told the whole world about it. And now I just can't stop thinking about sex. Is this normal? Will I have to go see a psychiatrist?”
“Don't worry, Shige-chan. There's nothing wrong. Someone must have spiked the sake tonight. Besides, I can always help you,” Ohno smiled at Kato fondly. “And I'm sure Touma-kun will be willing to help as well.”
Oh no, he didn't. This was like Takizawa and Yamashita all over again. He'd walked in on them once and had to deal with suggestive looks for months. What was it with Johnnys and threesomes? Was the concept of fidelity really so hard to stomach? One step, two steps back; Toma slowly extricated himself from the mess. Thankfully, the exit was close at hand and Toma made a run for it the moment he was out the door.
But the elevator was slow. The celebration had been held fifty floors up, in one of Ginza's swanky watering holes. The Jimusho didn't usually celebrate the New Year in such style, but the higher-ups had actually sprung for this. Imagine that.
The panel in front of him lit up and Toma limped into the empty lift with a sigh of relief. But just as the doors began to slide close and deliver him to safety, a slender brunette darted into the elevator, sending Toma diving for the buttons. When he righted himself, he eyed her lank brown curls, runny makeup and oddly muscular thighs warily. The bar took up the entire floor and the Jimusho had rented out the whole bar. Was she a crazed fangirl who had been thrown out? Or perhaps a call-girl who had been rejected by one of the capricious men of Johnny's Jimusho? Maybe she was a spurned lover?
“Ikuta-senpai, you won't tell anyone, will you?”
“Te-Tegoshi?” It wasn't uncommon for a Johnny to cross-dress. And Toma did know of a few who carried out the practice privately. But even foreknowledge couldn't have prepared him for the experience of hearing Tegoshi Yuya's voice emit from the entirely too feminine figure standing beside him. Even with smeared mascara, too much blush and a terribly unrealistic mousy brown wig, the girl - man - was beautiful.
“I tried my best and it didn't work!” Tegoshi was attempting not to cry in a very manly manner, his jaw set stubbornly and eyes hard under the streaks of makeup. Where was Yamashita? This was the second teary NEWS member he'd been waylaid by in as many minutes! Not that Yamashita would have been much of a help, his method of consoling crying men was a hand hovering awkwardly over the distraught person's shoulder. No, this was up to Toma; he hated watching girls cry even more than he hated playing senpai.
“What happened?” There, he'd opened Pandora's box.
“Nagase-kun. I know he likes me. And I - “ Toma made an impatient noise when Tegoshi paused. “It's just, he can't even think of an excuse and keeps citing clause 21.7 at me - relationship between Jimusho employees are prohibited - as though anyone cares! And he's always been into girls before. So I thought, with some persuasion, he'd finally cave. Do you think he likes blondes more?”
Toma just shook his head mutely, using the action to hide his growing horror. Yamashita was in a group with this kid? He wished he hadn't asked. But at least the girl - guy - no longer looked as though someone had killed his dog. And Toma could understand why he'd been upset. He'd spotted Nagase all over Tsuyoshi while a hopelessly inebriated Koichi barked directions at them from a corner. It was hardly a remarkable occurrence, especially when they were all drunk. But he knew Tegoshi would not take lightly to the reminder.
“ - and I even followed Ninomiya-kun's suggestion but -“ The words Ninomiya and suggestion, in the same sentence, had Toma scrabbling for the buttons again as he attempted to get the lift to return them to the fiftieth floor.
“What did Ninomiya tell you?” Toma didn't whip out the scary senpai card often but he'd learned from the best.
“Just, to spike the sake with this,” Tegoshi fished out a packet from his fake cleavage. Toma eyed it tentatively. Was this the reason why he'd followed Ohno out to the roof? Anger coursed through him.
“You spiked the sake that everyone was going to drink?”
Tegoshi looked unconcerned. “Ninomiya-kun said it would be fine.”
“How long have you been in the Jimusho?”
“Seven years.”
“Seven years, and you still trust Nino?”
The doors dinged open at that moment and a thoroughly debauched looking Yamashita fell through it. Takizawa wasn't far behind.
“Toma - what's going on?” Takizawa frowned at the fingers Toma had curled around one of Tegoshi's slender arms.
“It's nothing, we were just talking.”
“In the elevator? You know how much trouble you could get into,” Takizawa threw Toma a leery look. “Yamapi, you owe me. I told you he was a ladies man.”
Toma looked up at Tegoshi's pretty face and that ridiculous wig, and oh gods Takizawa thought that -
“No, you owe me, take me out for dinner today. That's Tegoshi,” Yamashita smirked at Takizawa.
“No! I mean, no! I mean, this isn't what it looks like. And how could the two of you bet on that? Yamashita!” Toma frothed.
Yamashita regarded him strangely. “But that is Tegoshi. Unless ... you didn't know? Well, I wouldn't blame you. Tegoshi's very good at it,” he bestowed a proud smile on his band mate and Tegoshi beamed back sickeningly.
“We weren't doing anything! Tegoshi was just telling me that he spiked the sake and drugged the entire Jimusho on Nino's suggestion! That's probably why the two of you are back together.” He expected outrage and murderous anger. Maybe Takizawa would give Tegoshi that patented look of disappointment that made even Kitayama want to crawl into a hole and die. Instead, Takizawa merely exchanged a look with Yamashita.
“We know.”
“What?”
“We heard Jun and Sho in the cubicle next to us. Nothing short of a miracle could have made that happen.”
“And you're not mad? That you - because of the sake?” Toma sputtered.
“I didn't have any of the sake, just whiskey,” Yamashita explained.
“And I was in the restroom for legitimate reasons until he showed up and barreled me into a cubicle.”
“Well, I'm not happy that he used this on the whole Jimusho,” Toma waved the packet around. He was tired and pissed, and he'd fucked his boyhood crush because of this self-centered little bastard. Yamashita stared at them, looking from Toma to Tegoshi with wide eyes. He'd never seen Toma get this mad at a kouhai before. It was unthinkable really.
Takizawa let out a sudden laugh and plucked the packet from Toma's hand before upending it on his palm. He scooped up some of the white crystals and tasted them before anyone could stop him, letting out a chuckle as he crunched them between his gleaming white teeth.
“Nino! Oh Nino!” He threw back his head in a noiseless chortle, genuine tears springing to his eyes as he appreciated the joke while the others looked on in bemusement. “Toma, taste it!” He lifted a finger to Toma's lips insistently. “Come on, taste it! Nino did this before back when we were Juniors, you must have been too young to remember. He tricked all of us into thinking we'd been drugged!"
It was sugar. Toma glared down at the packet in horror. “Sugar,” he muttered. “Are you sure you got the right packet?”
“Sugar? Ninomiya-kun must have given me the wrong packet! That explains everything!” Tegoshi rushed out of the lift lobby. The trio still clustered around the elevator door shot each other looks of helpless exasperation.
“It still doesn't explain things. Why did Jun and Sho finally make a move on each other? And why are the two of you back together tonight, after all these years?”
Yamashita shrugged. “Perhaps it was just the atmosphere. After you left with Ohno, Taichi stripped because Okada and Nino were egging him on. Joshima-san wasn't far behind. And you know how Nagase gets when drunk. Then Aiba started yelling about Yokoyama sending him pictures of Kanjani, and he tried to get everyone to take their pants off for pictures - “ Yamashita gulped. “Everything just snowballed from there. I tried to escape to the men's room.”
“You went looking for me, you mean,” Takizawa ribbed him playfully.
“You wish!”
“Toma left with Ohno, huh? I'm betting he didn't come back for a very long while.”
“No, actually he didn't. Where did you go?” Yamashita frowned at Toma.
“I'm just going to get some air. I'll see you guys tomorrow then,” Toma headed back into the bar.
“Does that mean you owe me dinner?”
Takizawa shrugged nonchalantly at the question. “We didn't actually catch him at it. There's no proof … but I'll take you out to dinner anyway.” He grinned mischievously, holding it until Yamashita's annoyed pout turned into a sweet smile.
“You know, there should be a clause 21.8 - never trust Nino. Poor Toma.” Takizawa shook his head in a mock display of sympathy.
“He's not that bad. I think there should be a clause warning Juniors against you!” Yamashita ducked as Takizawa tried to cuff him on the head.
“Did Aiba really try to take your pants off?”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“Did it remind you of P.P.O.I? You were so scarred for weeks and refused to go with him to Disneyland until I agreed to tag along.”
“Sometimes, I really hate you.”
***
The red cloaked hero slowly stalked his foe. It was tall and venom leaked steadily from its mandibles when excited. Slime was splattered over the length of forest floor it paced, guarding the entrance to the stone cavern. If luck was on his side, this would be the right cavern. He timed it. Exactly fifteen steps facing north before it turned around again and paced back. Fifteen steps south.
One, two, three. Too near, it would sense him. Seven, eight, and then he pounced. His blade flashed lethally, carving the creature from top to bottom before it could whistle for reinforcements. He left it twitching in a pool of lifeblood as he snuck into the cavern. There it was, the portal! He leapt through it and -
“I cleared another level!” Nino whooped, his outstretched fist narrowly missing Okada's temple. Okada just grinned indulgently.
“Does that mean you're done?”
“Not yet, just one more level. It's so good to be able to spend New Year's day in peace.” Nino settled back against Okada for another hour of gaming.
“All thanks to your plan.”
“Do you think Taichi will forgive me?” Nino asked absently.
“He has to find out first, doesn't he?” Okada sneered.
“Can I tell him it was your idea?”
“No.”
***