Gift fic for leifang666
For: leifang666
From: Naughty Reindeer
Title: Closer
Pairing: Jon/Gackt, Gackt/Jon
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, light bondage
Notes: Happy holidays leifang666! I hope this is to your liking ;)
Synopsis: In which Jon offers a proposal, and Gackt likes it more than he should.
The first time it happened, maybe they were both a little angry and definitely a little drunk.
They had been sitting in a private room at a nearby all-you-can-drink izakaya and getting decidedly smashed. Or at least, Jon was. Gackt was still in that stage where everything was really funny to him. He laughed loudly and slapped the table every few minutes to emphasize the fact that, no, he was not drunk. He was not drunk because it was not even midnight yet and no one got smashed before midnight -“that just isn’t very rock star, you know?”- and they had a good five hours left if they relocated to his house and -
And he stopped midsentence because Jon was staring at him, had been staring for quite some time, in a way that made him just a little bit concerned.
“Jon?”
“…whuh?”
Gackt bit back a laugh. He stood up and helped the other vocalist to his feet. “Easy there, bro,” he said and pulled Jon’s arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go back to my place and discuss the English versus Japanese lyrics I had in mind for-”
“Why is everything always about work?” Jon blurted. The words came out in English, too hard and too fast.
“Jon, I was just jo-”
“Man… You really need to loosen up a bit.”
“Really? What do you think we’ve been doing for the past three hours?”
“For the past three hours…” Jon mumbled as they stumbled towards the sliding door. He suddenly jerked his arm free, forcing Gackt to stop. “I wonder. This is all just a formality to you, isn’t it?” He poked Gackt in the chest. “A business transaction.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Jon said. He ran a hand under his lip. “The fan service, maybe? The drinking?”
This time, Gackt couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Jon, you’re drunk,” he said, patting the American on the shoulder. “Don’t look so angry.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It scares me.”
Hazel eyes met faux grey. Before Gackt knew what was happening, he was being pushed up against the wooden slats that separated their room from the main store, and Jon’s hands were fisting in his (rather expensive) leather jacket.
“Jon, what the hell -” They were so close he could feel wisps of Jon’s hair brushing against his nose.
“I have a proposal,” Jon said quietly. He was staring again, eyelashes lowered. From this proximity, Gackt had a better idea of exactly what he was staring at.
He smirked as everything finally clicked into place. It had been quite a while since something like this had happened. With fame came a lack of privacy and people stepping on eggshells around him, always so careful. Gackt licked his lips. Things were about to change.
And then Jon kissed him hard, harder than he was expecting, mouths mashed together as their bodies collided, firm muscles pressing up against his own. Gackt couldn’t suppress a grin as their teeth clicked together, anticipation shooting through his insides as he opened his mouth and let Jon abuse his tongue, let those hands wander to his hair, to the nape of his neck. He read anger in Jon’s kiss, frustration and longing - maybe a little desperate, but pure. And he could tell it meant their relationship would end as soon as it would begin.
But it also meant sex. And it would be good sex, he guessed, as he opened his eyes and pushed Jon roughly away, sending him staggering into the table in the corner. He watched Jon’s hands shoot out behind him to keep balance and smiled as the other vocalist glared up at him. I dare you to say no, those eyes seemed to say. Gackt’s smile turned rueful. He had almost forgotten how intense that stare could be.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said finally, seizing Jon by the front of his shirt. “There’s just one thing you have to remember.”
Jon raised an eyebrow.
“Strictly business.” Gackt winked. “And remember: I call the shots.”
It was a good thing that, when it came to sex, Gackt was never wrong. Because they did have sex - good sex, rough sex, and most importantly, lots of it, because when it came to things like this, Gackt never backed down.
Live a little, Jon had said, and Gackt was hell bent on showing him exactly what that meant.
So they did it everywhere. They fucked in different hotel rooms all over Japan and across Europe, up against the wall and over the sink, purple bruises forever painting over fading green ones. They never did anything that couldn’t be covered up with a bit of makeup and were always careful never to draw blood.
It would be short lived, Gackt knew, and that gave him every reason to up the ante, to make Jon growl at him in the back of a taxi, sharp teeth nipping at his ear, as he forced Jon’s name to die on his tongue. It was why his hand curled tight around Jon’s bicep in the cramped stall on the plane ride from London to Barcelona, as Jon stood in between his legs and jerked them both off, the delicious friction heightened by the fact that they had left the door unlocked.
There was just something about fucking in public places that really got the both of them off.
“He gets horny when he drinks,” Gackt would explain magnanimously at parties, smile wide.
And Jon would splutter into his glass.
So maybe it was a bit unprofessional. But then again, this was his way of living. It was all a game and Gackt liked games, especially when they involved drinking or sex - preferably both. He prided himself on his ability to turn everything into a drinking game, and from there, it was only a matter of getting the participants drunk enough for the focus to shift to sex. It didn’t matter, as long as he was calling the shots, as long as he could control -
- which is also why he was always the one pushing Jon away.
But no matter what he said about being used to solitude and not wanting to jeopardize his career, there was just something about passion and lust that was uncontrollable, little pieces which were beginning to slip through his fingers, making him do things he said he’d never do as they slowly fell through the cracks.
The first time Gackt got down on his knees for Jon was compensation for the last time he fucked him into the table.
Or at least, that was his excuse. It wasn't that he had never given head before, far from it, but it wasn't every day that Camui Gackt got down on his knees and let someone fuck his mouth the way Jon did, fingers locking behind Gackt's head as he tried his best to slow his thrusts.
“G, where did you learn…” Jon choked out, head slamming into the wall behind him as Gackt swept his tongue down the underside of his cock.
Gackt let his eyes flick up, pausing for half a heart-beat as he lifted his eyebrow, do you really want to know?
Above him, Jon cursed at the sight.
Gackt lowered his eyes. It’s all experience, his actions seemed to say, let me show you. His hand came up to wrap around Jon's hamstring for support, fingers bunching in distressed denim as he took the other vocalist deep into his throat. At the sensation, Jon shuddered and pushed off the wall, suddenly taking Gackt’s face in his hands. His hips jerked roughly, making Gackt’s cock strain against his jeans as he thought of surrender, of Jon’s hands holding him in place as he fucked his mouth. Dipping his other hand into his jeans, Gackt quickly thumbed over the slit of his cock and moaned as Jon’s hands moved down to encircle his neck.
The vibrations in his throat sent spasms of pleasure shooting across Jon’s abdomen. His back arched and his knees buckled as he came hard in Gackt’s mouth. Gackt quickly released him, but kept his hand on Jon’s softening cock as Jon sank, trembling, to the floor.
“You enjoy that, don't you?” Gackt rasped, his normally melodic voice rough and fucked. He let Jon ride out his orgasm and grinned as the other vocalist stared at him in awe. “I think,” he said, bringing his cum-splattered hand to his mouth and slowly licking a path across, “I think now it’s my turn.”
Gackt didn't think too much of it afterwards. After all, good sex was good sex, he reasoned, and that time it had been exceptionally good. There were really only two reasons to explain what had happened: a reaction to Jon or a reaction to being dominated, and neither were in his interests. So it wasn't until later, when Jon cornered him again in that way that seemed to be his new hobby, that Gackt was forced to give it thought.
He had been taking a short break after a good workout in the gym, ignoring his own rule to never touch the mirrors and letting his forehead rest against the cool glass, his back to the door. Lifting his head, he had just decided to do another round of upper ab exercises when he spotted Jon through the mirror. He could feel the American watching him, see the way he was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, hazel eyes on his exposed upper body.
Gackt smiled. He knew what Jon was admiring, having admired it in Jon himself so many times when they had trained shirtless - the dip of his spine, somehow fragile against the muscles of his shoulders, the smooth lines of his sides, the allure of loose exercise pants sitting low under his hips.
And, well, judging by the way Jon was slowly walking towards him, this could be another great opportunity.
"What are you doing here so late?" Gackt addressed Jon's reflection.
"I thought you said we were training together.”
"Did I say that?" Gackt hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his pants and tugged them down just a little bit more.
"You have something else in mind?"
Gackt’s smile widened. He maintained eye contact with Jon until the other vocalist was right behind him and he could feel the warmth of his body heat to accompany that burning gaze. "Maybe," he said, and pressed his forearms to the mirror, wrist to elbow, grinding back against Jon.
"Why do you do this to me?" he heard Jon mumble, and then the American was leaning over him, clothed chest against his back. He could feel the heat of Jon’s body through the cloth, the glide of cotton against his skin as Jon's hand snaked around to the front of his pants.
"Do what?" Gackt asked, trying not to swallow his tongue as rough fingers found his hardening member. He pushed back against Jon. "This?"
A growl tore from Jon's chest in response. His other hand pinned Gackt's wrists to the mirror. "You like this, don't you?" he mimicked, words low in Gackt's ear. His teeth tugged at a piercing, hand still stroking. "That other night. You like it when you lose control."
“What do you-” Gackt tried to say, to deny, because it was his instinct to, but when he looked into the mirror, all protest died on his lips. He offered a crooked smile.
“You kinky bastard.” Jon grinned and his hand tightened around Gackt in a way that it didn’t usually.
“Not here,” Gackt managed to groan, but this time, he couldn’t push Jon away. “Bedroom,” he said, and Jon nodded, leading the way up the stairs.
“You know, it actually makes perfect sense. For someone who has to be in charge all the time, the pretense of losing all control could make a damn good turn on.”
“Jon, please. Don’t try to rationalize.”
The door clicked closed.
“Take off your clothes,” Jon ordered, his voice low. Gackt had to bite back a retort as Jon’s eyes focused on his and blood was sent pumping straight to his dick. It reminded him of that first night in the izakaya when Jon had pushed him up against the wall, when his eyes had burned so bright, when he had offered to take their relationship to a more physical level and his eyes had dared Gackt to say no. That same thrill - he had chalked it up to the prospect of hot sex, but perhaps it had been something else all along. There was no denying how hard he was as he let his clothes fall to the floor.
“Where do you want me, baby?” Gackt grinned, spreading his arms wide.
Jon gestured at the bed. A tie dangled from his hand, thin, black, and all too familiar. Your fault for making us wear these, Jon’s smile said.
“You…”
“Don’t speak.”
Gackt snapped his mouth shut. His heart pounded as he stretched out on the bed. It was crazy, they both were, and for one second, irrationality screamed at him to push Jon away like he always did, because it wasn’t so much being bound physically that twisted his insides; it was that he had agreed, willingly, and that it was Jon of all-
“Do you trust me?” Jon asked quietly. He sat down on the bed. Their eyes met and Gackt felt something inside him give way. In that one moment, it was as if they were on stage again, two halves of one whole, wordless communication passing between them the way it always did, unspoken trust to pull through together no matter what.
Gackt wanted this. He needed it. He nodded.
Jon stood up. “Put your hands above your head.”
Gackt obeyed without protest, anticipation coiling in his gut. He tried to breathe evenly as Jon winded the cloth around his wrists and secured them to the headboard. He tugged experimentally. The bonds were firm but not so tight that he couldn’t pull free if he really wanted to.
“Gackt…”
His breath caught in his throat as he looked up and saw the tube of lube Jon had in his hand. There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. They were both figuring things out as they were going along, Gackt realized, and Jon was just as unsure as he was.
“Jon, I don’t think I’m…”
“It’s okay,” Jon said with a smile. “I understand. Trust me.”
So Gackt nodded again, to reassure Jon as much as himself, and then he found Jon straddling his hips, jeans rubbing exquisitely against him. The uncertainty took a backseat. Just a game, Gackt reminded himself, as his half-hard cock was stimulated back into arousal.
Something must have shown in his face because Jon grinned widely and rocked his hips, rubbing rough denim against sensitive flesh. Gackt tilted his head back in a silent gasp and felt lips press against his exposed throat, felt callused hands running up and down his sides, smoothing over old marks and pressing into his skin.
Then Jon's lips were moving down, lingering for one moment at his collarbone before Gackt involuntarily arched off the bed, wrists straining against his bonds as Jon's tongue circled his nipple. His eyes closed, rolling backwards, teeth biting down on his lip. The feel of his restraints digging into his skin aroused him even more as he writhed under Jon’s ministrations, vulnerable, exposed, hands twisting uselessly as Jon pleasured every naked inch of him, knuckles feathering against the inside of his thigh, tongue tracing the dip between his leg and his torso.
“Jon, you tease,” Gackt half moaned and half growled, aching for relief. There were goose bumps raised in patches on his skin, liquid fire set to his nerves wherever Jon had touched him.
Jon stopped what he was doing. “As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I didn’t say you could speak.”
Gackt’s eyes snapped open. His jaw twitched. “Jon,” he warned, but the other vocalist refused to touch him. In desperation, he tried to reach down to finish the job himself, until he remembered his wrists were tied. After a moment of glaring and hopeless hand twisting, Gackt pressed his lips together.
They didn’t stay closed for long as Jon finally took him into his mouth. Gackt’s lips parted at the sudden warmth of Jon’s tongue on the underside of his cock, but he quickly bit down again. He wasn’t usually loud but he also usually wasn’t this turned on, and part of that was due to his psychological surrender, precisely because he had been ordered not to make a sound.
Jon placed a hand over Gackt's wrists, stilling them. Gackt hadn't realized how much he had been twisting his hands in his effort to get as close to Jon as was physically possible, but now he could feel the silk chafing his wrists.
“Jon,” he said suddenly, his eyes beseeching. The desperation in his voice surprised him just a little.
“Is that the only word you remember how to say?” The corner of Jon’s eyes crinkled, as if he had forgotten their little rule for the moment. He sat back and began to remove his shirt.
Gackt waited impatiently, watching Jon reach for his belt and discard the last of his clothes. Every nerve in his body was pulled taut with anticipation as Jon hovered over him, slowly touching himself for the first time.
“Remember, not a word,” Jon whispered in his ear, and then his hips dipped down, messily pressing their erections together.
Gackt had to choke back a groan at the feeling of Jon against him in such intimacy, but then Jon began to move, rocking them together slowly, oh so slowly, and the pleasure built behind his eyes, became almost too much for him to handle.
Jon, he mouthed silently, his cheek pressed to his arm, exposing the length of his neck. Oh god, Jon. He could feel the hard line of Jon’s dick pressed against his own, Jon’s hands circling around to jerk them off in time to his thrusts. His teeth gnawed at his lips, chewed them to shreds, but he still couldn’t stop the small sounds he was making deep in his throat as that familiar feel of fire in his gut began to uncoil.
Those small sounds mounted to soft cries and with a shuddering gasp, he came hard, arching into Jon as his eyes opened.
“Fuck, Gackt,” Jon cursed in English, not gakuto but gackt, the syllable breaking halfway as he followed almost immediately.
They were both exhausted and breathless when Jon rolled to the side and unbound Gackt’s hands. They laid there for awhile in the quiet, shaking and breathing heavily.
Gackt massaged his wrists, feeling a lot more content than he had in awhile. They had never taken it slow before, not like they did tonight, as if they were making love instead of having a quick fuck. It was never slow, because it was as if they were scared, as if he were scared that if he stopped long enough to memorize all the details, it would mean something more than the purely physical relationship he had wanted it to be.
In the growing dark, Jon’s hand found his. Gackt turned to face Jon and hazel eyes met brown, not grey.
There were other things they probably should have been doing, such as cleaning up or figuring out what it all meant, where they were at in their relationship. But none of that mattered at that moment.
And it was that night, the night when Gackt finally understood what Jon meant by live a little, that for the first time in a long time, he fell asleep in his own room and in his own bed, with someone he knew he could trust.
From: Naughty Reindeer
Title: Closer
Pairing: Jon/Gackt, Gackt/Jon
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, light bondage
Notes: Happy holidays leifang666! I hope this is to your liking ;)
Synopsis: In which Jon offers a proposal, and Gackt likes it more than he should.
The first time it happened, maybe they were both a little angry and definitely a little drunk.
They had been sitting in a private room at a nearby all-you-can-drink izakaya and getting decidedly smashed. Or at least, Jon was. Gackt was still in that stage where everything was really funny to him. He laughed loudly and slapped the table every few minutes to emphasize the fact that, no, he was not drunk. He was not drunk because it was not even midnight yet and no one got smashed before midnight -“that just isn’t very rock star, you know?”- and they had a good five hours left if they relocated to his house and -
And he stopped midsentence because Jon was staring at him, had been staring for quite some time, in a way that made him just a little bit concerned.
“Jon?”
“…whuh?”
Gackt bit back a laugh. He stood up and helped the other vocalist to his feet. “Easy there, bro,” he said and pulled Jon’s arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go back to my place and discuss the English versus Japanese lyrics I had in mind for-”
“Why is everything always about work?” Jon blurted. The words came out in English, too hard and too fast.
“Jon, I was just jo-”
“Man… You really need to loosen up a bit.”
“Really? What do you think we’ve been doing for the past three hours?”
“For the past three hours…” Jon mumbled as they stumbled towards the sliding door. He suddenly jerked his arm free, forcing Gackt to stop. “I wonder. This is all just a formality to you, isn’t it?” He poked Gackt in the chest. “A business transaction.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Jon said. He ran a hand under his lip. “The fan service, maybe? The drinking?”
This time, Gackt couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Jon, you’re drunk,” he said, patting the American on the shoulder. “Don’t look so angry.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “It scares me.”
Hazel eyes met faux grey. Before Gackt knew what was happening, he was being pushed up against the wooden slats that separated their room from the main store, and Jon’s hands were fisting in his (rather expensive) leather jacket.
“Jon, what the hell -” They were so close he could feel wisps of Jon’s hair brushing against his nose.
“I have a proposal,” Jon said quietly. He was staring again, eyelashes lowered. From this proximity, Gackt had a better idea of exactly what he was staring at.
He smirked as everything finally clicked into place. It had been quite a while since something like this had happened. With fame came a lack of privacy and people stepping on eggshells around him, always so careful. Gackt licked his lips. Things were about to change.
And then Jon kissed him hard, harder than he was expecting, mouths mashed together as their bodies collided, firm muscles pressing up against his own. Gackt couldn’t suppress a grin as their teeth clicked together, anticipation shooting through his insides as he opened his mouth and let Jon abuse his tongue, let those hands wander to his hair, to the nape of his neck. He read anger in Jon’s kiss, frustration and longing - maybe a little desperate, but pure. And he could tell it meant their relationship would end as soon as it would begin.
But it also meant sex. And it would be good sex, he guessed, as he opened his eyes and pushed Jon roughly away, sending him staggering into the table in the corner. He watched Jon’s hands shoot out behind him to keep balance and smiled as the other vocalist glared up at him. I dare you to say no, those eyes seemed to say. Gackt’s smile turned rueful. He had almost forgotten how intense that stare could be.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said finally, seizing Jon by the front of his shirt. “There’s just one thing you have to remember.”
Jon raised an eyebrow.
“Strictly business.” Gackt winked. “And remember: I call the shots.”
It was a good thing that, when it came to sex, Gackt was never wrong. Because they did have sex - good sex, rough sex, and most importantly, lots of it, because when it came to things like this, Gackt never backed down.
Live a little, Jon had said, and Gackt was hell bent on showing him exactly what that meant.
So they did it everywhere. They fucked in different hotel rooms all over Japan and across Europe, up against the wall and over the sink, purple bruises forever painting over fading green ones. They never did anything that couldn’t be covered up with a bit of makeup and were always careful never to draw blood.
It would be short lived, Gackt knew, and that gave him every reason to up the ante, to make Jon growl at him in the back of a taxi, sharp teeth nipping at his ear, as he forced Jon’s name to die on his tongue. It was why his hand curled tight around Jon’s bicep in the cramped stall on the plane ride from London to Barcelona, as Jon stood in between his legs and jerked them both off, the delicious friction heightened by the fact that they had left the door unlocked.
There was just something about fucking in public places that really got the both of them off.
“He gets horny when he drinks,” Gackt would explain magnanimously at parties, smile wide.
And Jon would splutter into his glass.
So maybe it was a bit unprofessional. But then again, this was his way of living. It was all a game and Gackt liked games, especially when they involved drinking or sex - preferably both. He prided himself on his ability to turn everything into a drinking game, and from there, it was only a matter of getting the participants drunk enough for the focus to shift to sex. It didn’t matter, as long as he was calling the shots, as long as he could control -
- which is also why he was always the one pushing Jon away.
But no matter what he said about being used to solitude and not wanting to jeopardize his career, there was just something about passion and lust that was uncontrollable, little pieces which were beginning to slip through his fingers, making him do things he said he’d never do as they slowly fell through the cracks.
The first time Gackt got down on his knees for Jon was compensation for the last time he fucked him into the table.
Or at least, that was his excuse. It wasn't that he had never given head before, far from it, but it wasn't every day that Camui Gackt got down on his knees and let someone fuck his mouth the way Jon did, fingers locking behind Gackt's head as he tried his best to slow his thrusts.
“G, where did you learn…” Jon choked out, head slamming into the wall behind him as Gackt swept his tongue down the underside of his cock.
Gackt let his eyes flick up, pausing for half a heart-beat as he lifted his eyebrow, do you really want to know?
Above him, Jon cursed at the sight.
Gackt lowered his eyes. It’s all experience, his actions seemed to say, let me show you. His hand came up to wrap around Jon's hamstring for support, fingers bunching in distressed denim as he took the other vocalist deep into his throat. At the sensation, Jon shuddered and pushed off the wall, suddenly taking Gackt’s face in his hands. His hips jerked roughly, making Gackt’s cock strain against his jeans as he thought of surrender, of Jon’s hands holding him in place as he fucked his mouth. Dipping his other hand into his jeans, Gackt quickly thumbed over the slit of his cock and moaned as Jon’s hands moved down to encircle his neck.
The vibrations in his throat sent spasms of pleasure shooting across Jon’s abdomen. His back arched and his knees buckled as he came hard in Gackt’s mouth. Gackt quickly released him, but kept his hand on Jon’s softening cock as Jon sank, trembling, to the floor.
“You enjoy that, don't you?” Gackt rasped, his normally melodic voice rough and fucked. He let Jon ride out his orgasm and grinned as the other vocalist stared at him in awe. “I think,” he said, bringing his cum-splattered hand to his mouth and slowly licking a path across, “I think now it’s my turn.”
Gackt didn't think too much of it afterwards. After all, good sex was good sex, he reasoned, and that time it had been exceptionally good. There were really only two reasons to explain what had happened: a reaction to Jon or a reaction to being dominated, and neither were in his interests. So it wasn't until later, when Jon cornered him again in that way that seemed to be his new hobby, that Gackt was forced to give it thought.
He had been taking a short break after a good workout in the gym, ignoring his own rule to never touch the mirrors and letting his forehead rest against the cool glass, his back to the door. Lifting his head, he had just decided to do another round of upper ab exercises when he spotted Jon through the mirror. He could feel the American watching him, see the way he was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, hazel eyes on his exposed upper body.
Gackt smiled. He knew what Jon was admiring, having admired it in Jon himself so many times when they had trained shirtless - the dip of his spine, somehow fragile against the muscles of his shoulders, the smooth lines of his sides, the allure of loose exercise pants sitting low under his hips.
And, well, judging by the way Jon was slowly walking towards him, this could be another great opportunity.
"What are you doing here so late?" Gackt addressed Jon's reflection.
"I thought you said we were training together.”
"Did I say that?" Gackt hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his pants and tugged them down just a little bit more.
"You have something else in mind?"
Gackt’s smile widened. He maintained eye contact with Jon until the other vocalist was right behind him and he could feel the warmth of his body heat to accompany that burning gaze. "Maybe," he said, and pressed his forearms to the mirror, wrist to elbow, grinding back against Jon.
"Why do you do this to me?" he heard Jon mumble, and then the American was leaning over him, clothed chest against his back. He could feel the heat of Jon’s body through the cloth, the glide of cotton against his skin as Jon's hand snaked around to the front of his pants.
"Do what?" Gackt asked, trying not to swallow his tongue as rough fingers found his hardening member. He pushed back against Jon. "This?"
A growl tore from Jon's chest in response. His other hand pinned Gackt's wrists to the mirror. "You like this, don't you?" he mimicked, words low in Gackt's ear. His teeth tugged at a piercing, hand still stroking. "That other night. You like it when you lose control."
“What do you-” Gackt tried to say, to deny, because it was his instinct to, but when he looked into the mirror, all protest died on his lips. He offered a crooked smile.
“You kinky bastard.” Jon grinned and his hand tightened around Gackt in a way that it didn’t usually.
“Not here,” Gackt managed to groan, but this time, he couldn’t push Jon away. “Bedroom,” he said, and Jon nodded, leading the way up the stairs.
“You know, it actually makes perfect sense. For someone who has to be in charge all the time, the pretense of losing all control could make a damn good turn on.”
“Jon, please. Don’t try to rationalize.”
The door clicked closed.
“Take off your clothes,” Jon ordered, his voice low. Gackt had to bite back a retort as Jon’s eyes focused on his and blood was sent pumping straight to his dick. It reminded him of that first night in the izakaya when Jon had pushed him up against the wall, when his eyes had burned so bright, when he had offered to take their relationship to a more physical level and his eyes had dared Gackt to say no. That same thrill - he had chalked it up to the prospect of hot sex, but perhaps it had been something else all along. There was no denying how hard he was as he let his clothes fall to the floor.
“Where do you want me, baby?” Gackt grinned, spreading his arms wide.
Jon gestured at the bed. A tie dangled from his hand, thin, black, and all too familiar. Your fault for making us wear these, Jon’s smile said.
“You…”
“Don’t speak.”
Gackt snapped his mouth shut. His heart pounded as he stretched out on the bed. It was crazy, they both were, and for one second, irrationality screamed at him to push Jon away like he always did, because it wasn’t so much being bound physically that twisted his insides; it was that he had agreed, willingly, and that it was Jon of all-
“Do you trust me?” Jon asked quietly. He sat down on the bed. Their eyes met and Gackt felt something inside him give way. In that one moment, it was as if they were on stage again, two halves of one whole, wordless communication passing between them the way it always did, unspoken trust to pull through together no matter what.
Gackt wanted this. He needed it. He nodded.
Jon stood up. “Put your hands above your head.”
Gackt obeyed without protest, anticipation coiling in his gut. He tried to breathe evenly as Jon winded the cloth around his wrists and secured them to the headboard. He tugged experimentally. The bonds were firm but not so tight that he couldn’t pull free if he really wanted to.
“Gackt…”
His breath caught in his throat as he looked up and saw the tube of lube Jon had in his hand. There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. They were both figuring things out as they were going along, Gackt realized, and Jon was just as unsure as he was.
“Jon, I don’t think I’m…”
“It’s okay,” Jon said with a smile. “I understand. Trust me.”
So Gackt nodded again, to reassure Jon as much as himself, and then he found Jon straddling his hips, jeans rubbing exquisitely against him. The uncertainty took a backseat. Just a game, Gackt reminded himself, as his half-hard cock was stimulated back into arousal.
Something must have shown in his face because Jon grinned widely and rocked his hips, rubbing rough denim against sensitive flesh. Gackt tilted his head back in a silent gasp and felt lips press against his exposed throat, felt callused hands running up and down his sides, smoothing over old marks and pressing into his skin.
Then Jon's lips were moving down, lingering for one moment at his collarbone before Gackt involuntarily arched off the bed, wrists straining against his bonds as Jon's tongue circled his nipple. His eyes closed, rolling backwards, teeth biting down on his lip. The feel of his restraints digging into his skin aroused him even more as he writhed under Jon’s ministrations, vulnerable, exposed, hands twisting uselessly as Jon pleasured every naked inch of him, knuckles feathering against the inside of his thigh, tongue tracing the dip between his leg and his torso.
“Jon, you tease,” Gackt half moaned and half growled, aching for relief. There were goose bumps raised in patches on his skin, liquid fire set to his nerves wherever Jon had touched him.
Jon stopped what he was doing. “As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I didn’t say you could speak.”
Gackt’s eyes snapped open. His jaw twitched. “Jon,” he warned, but the other vocalist refused to touch him. In desperation, he tried to reach down to finish the job himself, until he remembered his wrists were tied. After a moment of glaring and hopeless hand twisting, Gackt pressed his lips together.
They didn’t stay closed for long as Jon finally took him into his mouth. Gackt’s lips parted at the sudden warmth of Jon’s tongue on the underside of his cock, but he quickly bit down again. He wasn’t usually loud but he also usually wasn’t this turned on, and part of that was due to his psychological surrender, precisely because he had been ordered not to make a sound.
Jon placed a hand over Gackt's wrists, stilling them. Gackt hadn't realized how much he had been twisting his hands in his effort to get as close to Jon as was physically possible, but now he could feel the silk chafing his wrists.
“Jon,” he said suddenly, his eyes beseeching. The desperation in his voice surprised him just a little.
“Is that the only word you remember how to say?” The corner of Jon’s eyes crinkled, as if he had forgotten their little rule for the moment. He sat back and began to remove his shirt.
Gackt waited impatiently, watching Jon reach for his belt and discard the last of his clothes. Every nerve in his body was pulled taut with anticipation as Jon hovered over him, slowly touching himself for the first time.
“Remember, not a word,” Jon whispered in his ear, and then his hips dipped down, messily pressing their erections together.
Gackt had to choke back a groan at the feeling of Jon against him in such intimacy, but then Jon began to move, rocking them together slowly, oh so slowly, and the pleasure built behind his eyes, became almost too much for him to handle.
Jon, he mouthed silently, his cheek pressed to his arm, exposing the length of his neck. Oh god, Jon. He could feel the hard line of Jon’s dick pressed against his own, Jon’s hands circling around to jerk them off in time to his thrusts. His teeth gnawed at his lips, chewed them to shreds, but he still couldn’t stop the small sounds he was making deep in his throat as that familiar feel of fire in his gut began to uncoil.
Those small sounds mounted to soft cries and with a shuddering gasp, he came hard, arching into Jon as his eyes opened.
“Fuck, Gackt,” Jon cursed in English, not gakuto but gackt, the syllable breaking halfway as he followed almost immediately.
They were both exhausted and breathless when Jon rolled to the side and unbound Gackt’s hands. They laid there for awhile in the quiet, shaking and breathing heavily.
Gackt massaged his wrists, feeling a lot more content than he had in awhile. They had never taken it slow before, not like they did tonight, as if they were making love instead of having a quick fuck. It was never slow, because it was as if they were scared, as if he were scared that if he stopped long enough to memorize all the details, it would mean something more than the purely physical relationship he had wanted it to be.
In the growing dark, Jon’s hand found his. Gackt turned to face Jon and hazel eyes met brown, not grey.
There were other things they probably should have been doing, such as cleaning up or figuring out what it all meant, where they were at in their relationship. But none of that mattered at that moment.
And it was that night, the night when Gackt finally understood what Jon meant by live a little, that for the first time in a long time, he fell asleep in his own room and in his own bed, with someone he knew he could trust.