Gift fic for rikikomori!
Gift fic for rikikomori!
Title: Lathered Up
Pairings/Members: Kitayama/Fujigaya (tiny Yokoo cameo at the end but only to make Taipi’s life miserable)
Rating: Hard R? NC-17? porn.
Warnings: no plot (sorry), foul language.
Summary: Kitayama needs a shower and to blow off a little steam.
Notes: rikikomori, I’m sorry it’s just PWP but I hope the shower/blowjob/frottage aspects make up for that? Maybe not, but in any case, I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my beta. Any remaining typos or grammatical errors are completely my fault.
". . . Gotta be fucking kidding me with this," Kitayama grumbled to himself as he stepped into the hall and his hotel room door shut behind him, leaving his manager arguing passive-aggressively with the hotel manager about why no one had informed them about the two-hour maintenance shut off of the water in this wing of the hotel.
Kitayama had just begun soaping his hair when the deluxe massaging shower head had stopped massaging and dribbled its last tepid drops.
"Fucking bullshit. They did that on purpose. Motherfu-," he cut himself off mid-curse as another hotel patron stepped around the corner of the corridor and tugged his knit cap further down over his soapy hair. The hat was probably ruined.
He couldn't ask Tamamori to use his and Miyata's because they were just down the hall in the same wing, waterless. The first of their group's rooms that he came to when he reached the other wing was Senga and Nikaido's, but no luck. They must have gone out. He headed to Yokoo and Fujigaya's room a few doors down and prayed for an answer.
Fujigaya opened the door on Kitayama's third knock and looked confused. "Oh."
Kitayama didn't know exactly how to respond to that but he ventured a guess, "Expecting someone else?"
"No, I mean sort of. Watta went with Senga for something, I don't know, but he left his room key on the table. I thought you were him coming back for it. What's up? You look like hell."
"Thanks," Kitayama replied dryly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure. Lock it behind you, would you?" Fujigaya stepped away from the door and sat back down on his bed where he was clearly busy with something. His mp3 player and headphones, a notebook, a pen, and a magazine were strewn across the bedspread.
"Sorry, were you busy?"
"Only sort of. What happened to you?"
"It's like the damned Dark Ages in my wing of the hotel."
Fujigaya looked at him blankly.
"No water."
"I see," Fujigaya replied. "Need the shower?"
"God, yes, is that okay?" Kitayama asked, already yanking his hat off of his soapy head and opening the bathroom door. Fujigaya only laughed. Well, openly guffawed at him was more accurate. He shot a mildly perturbed look at Fujigaya before catching his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. His soapy hair was getting a little crusty now and when he'd pulled his hat up, his hair had come up with it. He looked a little like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He couldn't help but laugh as well. Still, he mumbled, "Shut up, jerk."
"Jerk who's letting you use his shower," Fujigaya answered and turned back to whatever he'd been working on
Kitayama stepped in to take his clothes off but suddenly realized he'd forgotten his shower bag in his room and he wasn't about to turn back to get it. He poked his head out of the bathroom to ask Fujigaya to borrow some supplies but got a little distracted before he could ask.
Fujigaya had his headphones on; big, over-the-ear noise-cancelling ones that Kitayama knew had great sound quality but allowed for very little in the way of background noise. He was just sitting there, leaning against the backboard of the bed in a tank top and cotton knit lounge pants. One leg was hanging over the side of the bed, foot bopping along to the music. His head was set back against the wall, eyes closed, gently swaying side to side with whatever he was listening to, giving Kitayama a generous view of his long neck. He looked. . . hot.
Really hot. Especially because he wasn't really trying to. "Huh."
Kitayama's little noise of realization raised no flags for Fujigaya who didn't even know he was there until his song ended and he let his eyes drift open in Kitayama's general direction. The huge, immediate change in his face was a little disappointing to Kitayama.
"What?" Fujigaya asked, defensive.
"Nothing," Kitayama replied. There was no good way to tell your coworker 'you looked super hot just now.'
Fujigaya was unconvinced, however. "Do you need something?"
"Oh. Can I use your stuff? I forgot my shower bag."
"You can't just use the hotel stuff?"
"I guess I can." Kitayama hated using the hotel stuff here because it all smelled like lady. "Do you think Yokoo will care if I use his?" Fujigaya made a face like How should I know? so Kitayama thought it best not to chance it. He grumbled to himself but figured he'd rather not piss someone off. He could just deal.
But as he was showering, he really started to get lathered up over it. Seriously? Fujigaya couldn't have spared a tablespoon of conditioner? Why hadn't he offered? What kind of person doesn't offer to help, especially when it's something so easy?
He let the water sluice over himself,washing away the hotel’s complimentary soap and conditioner, but it did nothing to diminish the heated feelings welling up inside his chest. He thought about what a complete jerk Fujigaya sometimes was, usually without even trying to be. And at the same time he couldn't stop thinking about how incredibly hot Fujigaya sometimes was, again, usually when he wasn't trying to be. The thoughts cycled over and over in his head and he just kept getting angrier - and more turned on.
If Kitayama was honest, he'd have to admit to taking a special pleasure in that particular combination of feelings. On the other hand, he wasn't exactly sure what he could do about it- or what he could get away with doing.
He’d known Fujigaya to have fooled around with a few guys before, but never with Kitayama, and actually never in a public way. His sexy stage persona was one thing, but his real sex life was a completely different matter. One he was fairly secretive about.
Kitayama, wondering idly what kinds of things Fujigaya was into, let his hands roam over his own body a little. The heat and the wet felt good, but not good enough. Not really what he wanted.
“I need to get laid like whoa,” he said quietly to himself.
He was half-hard by the time he shut the water off, thinking about things he’d like to do to Fujigaya. Get his hands under those clothes. Get his mouth on Fujigaya’s tan skin. Get his hand around Fujigaya’s cock. Get out of the goddamned shower and go back to your room, he silently told himself.
But getting out of the shower was no help at all because when he stepped out into the room, one hand tightly gripping his damp towel around himself, he was greeted with that same sight of Fujigaya splayed across the bed; head back, singing quietly along with something ringing through his headphones, oblivious to the way Kitayama was looking at him like some kind of buffet.
He walked slowly over toward Fujigaya, trying not to set off any alarms in Fujigaya’s head. He actually got awfully close to him, almost leaning right over him before Fujigaya opened his eyes. To his credit, Fujigaya did not overreact to a dripping wet coworker getting within kissing distance.
“What are you doing?” He asked in a tone that sounded merely curious.
Honestly, Kitayama had no idea and said as much.
“Well don’t stop on my account,” Fujigaya said wryly.
“You don’t think opening your eyes to see my face in your face is weird?”
“I’ve had weirder things in my face.”
Kitayama snorted indelicately.
“Shut up,” Fujigaya retorted. “You smell like a lady.”
“I don’t kiss like one.”
“No?” Fujigaya removed his headphones and set them aside, looking at Kitayama expectantly. The side of Fujigaya’s mouth crept up in a little smirk.
It was all the invitation Kitayama needed. He closed the distance between their mouths at the exact time he laced his hand into the hair at the nape of Fujigaya’s neck and dove right in. It took Fujigaya a second to catch up to the immediately scorching hot slide of Kitayama’s tongue inside his mouth, but he was a quick learner.
He pulled back enough to smirk against Kitayama’s lips and issue a challenge. “Oh, you wanna go?” He practically laughed into Kitayama’s mouth at the sound of surprise he made when Fujigaya grabbed his towel-clad ass and pulled him down to straddle his lap.
Fujigaya had to hand it to him, Kitayama was an excellent kisser. It was smooth, hot, forceful, and enthusiastic. He leaned up into the kiss and let Kitayama push him back down toward the headboard. Why hadn’t they done this sooner?
“You are hot,” Kitayama whispered breathily, like it was some kind of secret.
Fujigaya smiled in response and earned a quick grin in return.
This was a great idea, Kitayama thought.
Kitayama tilted Fujigaya’s head to the side to get better access to his neck, quickly sucking and biting his way down toward the curve of his neck into his shoulder and scraping his teeth along Fujigaya’s collarbone. Fujigaya growled in response to the combination of teeth and Kitayama’s fingers creeping up under his shirt.
Whatever he’d been expecting from Kitayama, it wasn’t this hunger bordering on desperation. His hands were greedily pulling Fujigaya closer at the same time he was pushing him away to pull Fujigaya’s shirt over his head.
Fujigaya wanted to take the time to ask where this all was coming from and enjoy the attention a little, but he was too busy keeping up and being infected by the heat coming off of Kitayama’s damp, naked body.
He arched up toward Kitayama, trying to get a little more skin on skin but Kitayama was hunched over him, kissing his neck, almost certainly leaving a mark. Dick. So Fujigaya concentrated on running his hands up the wet skin of Kitayama’s back and then down again, sliding under the towel around his waist to grab a handful of ass and rock his hips up into Kitayama’s.
Fujigaya’s breath caught in his throat when he felt how hard Kitayama was. He hastily pulled the towel away from Kitayama’s hips.
Kitayama responded by pushing Fujigaya’s pants as far down past his hips as he could and pulling Fujigaya’s cock free of the constraining fabric to get a hand around it and stroke him to full erection.
“Fuck,” Fujigaya panted. “Slow down. Damn.”
“Don’ wanna,” Kitayama said. He claimed Fujigaya’s mouth again, hard, and tilted his hips down so he could get his hand around both of their cocks at the same time. He rocked his hips into his own touch, moaning. “Come on,” he urged.
He was going too fast for Fujigaya to keep up, and he knew it, but there comes a point when you’re running at full speed when you just don’t want to stop. He felt like he was a little high, Fujigaya’s panting breaths into his mouth stealing his own oxygen. And Fujigaya’s hand around his own and both of their erections only pushed him closer to the edge.
“Wait,” Fujigaya demanded.
He squeezed Kitayama’s hand a little, trying to force him to slow his pace but the extra pressure seemed to snap the tenuous grip Kitayama had on control and his pace faltered, his hips thrusting almost of their own volition in a stilted, jerky motion.
He came hot and sticky over both of their hands with a strained “Ah-aah-” and biting Fujigaya’s bottom lip, maybe a little too hard as his teeth chattered a little and he shivered through his orgasm. He let his forehead rest against Fujigaya’s.
“Um,” he began but coherent thought had not yet returned to him.
Fujigaya kissed him, this time a little more softly than before. “That was. . . unexpected.” It occurred to him that Kitayama might feel like he was mocking him on account of the fact that Fujigaya hadn’t come, so he immediately added, “But let’s do it again sometime when I can keep up with you.”
That seemed to stir something in Kitayama. “Oh, we’re not done,” he answered.
“Well one of us is,” Fujigaya mumbled, not quite under his breath.
“Shut up or I’ll leave you like that,” Kitayama said. He climbed off of Fujigaya and headed back into the bathroom calling “Well? Come on” over his shoulder.
Fujigaya obliged him, stepping out of his pants as they pooled around his ankles and following Kitayama into the shower. Having gotten the speed and adrenaline out of his system, Kitayama took his time with Fujigaya.
Under the hot spray of the shower, with slick, deft hands on slippery, wet skin Kitayama worked Fujigaya over until he was having considerable difficulty staying upright. He scraped his nails over Fujigaya’s skin, massaged and stroked here and there until Fujigaya didn’t know where he’d rather have Kitayama’s hands. He was putty in them. Everywhere seemed like a good place to be touched.
With his hand around Fujigaya’s length, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow circles over the head, Kitayama drank in Fujigaya’s slack, plush mouth. He ran his tongue along Fujigaya’s sucking it into his mouth in a tease of what he was about to do to Fujigaya’s cock.
Eyes closed, knees getting wobbly, Fujigaya moaned helplessly.
Finally Kitayama pulled away. “I’m going to go down on you now.” Fujigaya’s head nodded quickly in response. “Open your damned eyes and watch.”
Fujigaya dragged his heavy eyelids open, a little shocked but all-too-willing to comply. He watched as Kitayama sank to his knees, dragging his hands down Fujigaya’s thighs and digging into his slippery skin, holding him upright.
He led with his tongue, slid it along the head and took it into his mouth slowly. He closed his lips around just the head of Fujigaya’s cock, lapped at the slit with his tongue, and sucked, maybe a little harder than was necessary. He just wanted to be sure he had Fujigaya’s undivided attention.
“Fuck oh god fucking hell,” Fujigaya mumbled but made eye contact with Kitayama and couldn’t break it no matter how hard he tried. Something in Kitayama’s look made it clear that if he stopped watching, Kitayama would stop and Fujigaya could not risk that.
With all the extra moisture from the shower, there was no end of dirty slurping sounds when Kitayama started licking and sucking along the length of his erection. The sounds alone were going to do Fujigaya in. His breathing came faster. He couldn’t get enough air. Couldn’t get enough of Kitayama’s hot, dark eyes; watching him watch.
But it was too much water. Kitayama couldn’t keep his eyes open looking up under the spray and Fujigaya couldn’t get a strong enough grip in Kitayama’s wet hair to get him to stay in the right spot long enough to tease the vein just the way he liked.
He leaned over Kitayama to turn the water off. When he did, he pushed ever so slightly forward into Kitayama’s waiting mouth. Kitayama gripped his ass with both hands and pulled him deeper, moving faster and almost swallowing around his cock.
“Oh fuck!” Fujigaya gasped and gripped the shower curtain for support. It pulled down in his hands, leaving him convulsing over Kitayama, cradling his wet head with both arms, hand full of curtain and water everywhere. He came in hot spurts down Kitayama’s throat and Kitayama drank him down.
After they finally shut the shower off and began making an attempt to sop up the water from the bathroom floor, Kitayama said, “So. . . that was fun.”
“Yeah.” Fujigaya wanted to be cool about it, say nothing else, just like Kitayama was doing, but he was dying to ask. Just before Kitayama headed for the door, he couldn’t help himself. “What brought that on, exactly?”
Kitayama shrugged. “I don’t know? I felt like it.” Unable to read the look on Fujigaya’s face, he hastily added, “It doesn’t have to, you know, be a thing. We can just forget it.”
“That would be a shame,” he answered and half-smiled.
Kitayama nodded and opened the door, heading out.
“Only next time, you don’t have to invent an excuse,” Fujigaya added.
Kitayama wheeled around to face him. “I totally didn’t!”
“Sure,” Fujigaya chuckled and shut the door in Kitayama’s sputtering face. He heard Kitayama’s voice saying “That’s bullshit!” through the door and he only chuckled louder so he could be sure Kitayama heard him in the hall. Maybe so, he thought. But he was looking forward to the next time, regardless.
..::Omake::..
Yokoo leveled Fujigaya with a serious glare. “Look, man, you know I have never cared what you did and with whom, but I am going to have to ask for the decency to throw the deadbolt if you’re getting. . . you know a. . .” Yokoo shook his head as if clearing the mental image, “. . .if you’re busy. In the shower.”
Fujigaya stared at him, wide-eyed and alarmed. “Umm. . .” His mouth opened and closed a few times before he could make anything come out. “But you left your key!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“On the table!” Fujigaya swung around to point at the evidence. Sure enough, the key was still there on the night stand between their two beds.
“Taipi,” Yokoo said slowly, trying not to chuckle too overtly, “That’s your key.”
Fujigaya’s shoulders sank, defeated. “Well fuck me.”
“No thanks. Seems like there’s a queue,” Yokoo replied. A split second later, a pillow sailed across the room and hit him in the face.
Title: Lathered Up
Pairings/Members: Kitayama/Fujigaya (tiny Yokoo cameo at the end but only to make Taipi’s life miserable)
Rating: Hard R? NC-17? porn.
Warnings: no plot (sorry), foul language.
Summary: Kitayama needs a shower and to blow off a little steam.
Notes: rikikomori, I’m sorry it’s just PWP but I hope the shower/blowjob/frottage aspects make up for that? Maybe not, but in any case, I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my beta. Any remaining typos or grammatical errors are completely my fault.
". . . Gotta be fucking kidding me with this," Kitayama grumbled to himself as he stepped into the hall and his hotel room door shut behind him, leaving his manager arguing passive-aggressively with the hotel manager about why no one had informed them about the two-hour maintenance shut off of the water in this wing of the hotel.
Kitayama had just begun soaping his hair when the deluxe massaging shower head had stopped massaging and dribbled its last tepid drops.
"Fucking bullshit. They did that on purpose. Motherfu-," he cut himself off mid-curse as another hotel patron stepped around the corner of the corridor and tugged his knit cap further down over his soapy hair. The hat was probably ruined.
He couldn't ask Tamamori to use his and Miyata's because they were just down the hall in the same wing, waterless. The first of their group's rooms that he came to when he reached the other wing was Senga and Nikaido's, but no luck. They must have gone out. He headed to Yokoo and Fujigaya's room a few doors down and prayed for an answer.
Fujigaya opened the door on Kitayama's third knock and looked confused. "Oh."
Kitayama didn't know exactly how to respond to that but he ventured a guess, "Expecting someone else?"
"No, I mean sort of. Watta went with Senga for something, I don't know, but he left his room key on the table. I thought you were him coming back for it. What's up? You look like hell."
"Thanks," Kitayama replied dryly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure. Lock it behind you, would you?" Fujigaya stepped away from the door and sat back down on his bed where he was clearly busy with something. His mp3 player and headphones, a notebook, a pen, and a magazine were strewn across the bedspread.
"Sorry, were you busy?"
"Only sort of. What happened to you?"
"It's like the damned Dark Ages in my wing of the hotel."
Fujigaya looked at him blankly.
"No water."
"I see," Fujigaya replied. "Need the shower?"
"God, yes, is that okay?" Kitayama asked, already yanking his hat off of his soapy head and opening the bathroom door. Fujigaya only laughed. Well, openly guffawed at him was more accurate. He shot a mildly perturbed look at Fujigaya before catching his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. His soapy hair was getting a little crusty now and when he'd pulled his hat up, his hair had come up with it. He looked a little like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He couldn't help but laugh as well. Still, he mumbled, "Shut up, jerk."
"Jerk who's letting you use his shower," Fujigaya answered and turned back to whatever he'd been working on
Kitayama stepped in to take his clothes off but suddenly realized he'd forgotten his shower bag in his room and he wasn't about to turn back to get it. He poked his head out of the bathroom to ask Fujigaya to borrow some supplies but got a little distracted before he could ask.
Fujigaya had his headphones on; big, over-the-ear noise-cancelling ones that Kitayama knew had great sound quality but allowed for very little in the way of background noise. He was just sitting there, leaning against the backboard of the bed in a tank top and cotton knit lounge pants. One leg was hanging over the side of the bed, foot bopping along to the music. His head was set back against the wall, eyes closed, gently swaying side to side with whatever he was listening to, giving Kitayama a generous view of his long neck. He looked. . . hot.
Really hot. Especially because he wasn't really trying to. "Huh."
Kitayama's little noise of realization raised no flags for Fujigaya who didn't even know he was there until his song ended and he let his eyes drift open in Kitayama's general direction. The huge, immediate change in his face was a little disappointing to Kitayama.
"What?" Fujigaya asked, defensive.
"Nothing," Kitayama replied. There was no good way to tell your coworker 'you looked super hot just now.'
Fujigaya was unconvinced, however. "Do you need something?"
"Oh. Can I use your stuff? I forgot my shower bag."
"You can't just use the hotel stuff?"
"I guess I can." Kitayama hated using the hotel stuff here because it all smelled like lady. "Do you think Yokoo will care if I use his?" Fujigaya made a face like How should I know? so Kitayama thought it best not to chance it. He grumbled to himself but figured he'd rather not piss someone off. He could just deal.
But as he was showering, he really started to get lathered up over it. Seriously? Fujigaya couldn't have spared a tablespoon of conditioner? Why hadn't he offered? What kind of person doesn't offer to help, especially when it's something so easy?
He let the water sluice over himself,washing away the hotel’s complimentary soap and conditioner, but it did nothing to diminish the heated feelings welling up inside his chest. He thought about what a complete jerk Fujigaya sometimes was, usually without even trying to be. And at the same time he couldn't stop thinking about how incredibly hot Fujigaya sometimes was, again, usually when he wasn't trying to be. The thoughts cycled over and over in his head and he just kept getting angrier - and more turned on.
If Kitayama was honest, he'd have to admit to taking a special pleasure in that particular combination of feelings. On the other hand, he wasn't exactly sure what he could do about it- or what he could get away with doing.
He’d known Fujigaya to have fooled around with a few guys before, but never with Kitayama, and actually never in a public way. His sexy stage persona was one thing, but his real sex life was a completely different matter. One he was fairly secretive about.
Kitayama, wondering idly what kinds of things Fujigaya was into, let his hands roam over his own body a little. The heat and the wet felt good, but not good enough. Not really what he wanted.
“I need to get laid like whoa,” he said quietly to himself.
He was half-hard by the time he shut the water off, thinking about things he’d like to do to Fujigaya. Get his hands under those clothes. Get his mouth on Fujigaya’s tan skin. Get his hand around Fujigaya’s cock. Get out of the goddamned shower and go back to your room, he silently told himself.
But getting out of the shower was no help at all because when he stepped out into the room, one hand tightly gripping his damp towel around himself, he was greeted with that same sight of Fujigaya splayed across the bed; head back, singing quietly along with something ringing through his headphones, oblivious to the way Kitayama was looking at him like some kind of buffet.
He walked slowly over toward Fujigaya, trying not to set off any alarms in Fujigaya’s head. He actually got awfully close to him, almost leaning right over him before Fujigaya opened his eyes. To his credit, Fujigaya did not overreact to a dripping wet coworker getting within kissing distance.
“What are you doing?” He asked in a tone that sounded merely curious.
Honestly, Kitayama had no idea and said as much.
“Well don’t stop on my account,” Fujigaya said wryly.
“You don’t think opening your eyes to see my face in your face is weird?”
“I’ve had weirder things in my face.”
Kitayama snorted indelicately.
“Shut up,” Fujigaya retorted. “You smell like a lady.”
“I don’t kiss like one.”
“No?” Fujigaya removed his headphones and set them aside, looking at Kitayama expectantly. The side of Fujigaya’s mouth crept up in a little smirk.
It was all the invitation Kitayama needed. He closed the distance between their mouths at the exact time he laced his hand into the hair at the nape of Fujigaya’s neck and dove right in. It took Fujigaya a second to catch up to the immediately scorching hot slide of Kitayama’s tongue inside his mouth, but he was a quick learner.
He pulled back enough to smirk against Kitayama’s lips and issue a challenge. “Oh, you wanna go?” He practically laughed into Kitayama’s mouth at the sound of surprise he made when Fujigaya grabbed his towel-clad ass and pulled him down to straddle his lap.
Fujigaya had to hand it to him, Kitayama was an excellent kisser. It was smooth, hot, forceful, and enthusiastic. He leaned up into the kiss and let Kitayama push him back down toward the headboard. Why hadn’t they done this sooner?
“You are hot,” Kitayama whispered breathily, like it was some kind of secret.
Fujigaya smiled in response and earned a quick grin in return.
This was a great idea, Kitayama thought.
Kitayama tilted Fujigaya’s head to the side to get better access to his neck, quickly sucking and biting his way down toward the curve of his neck into his shoulder and scraping his teeth along Fujigaya’s collarbone. Fujigaya growled in response to the combination of teeth and Kitayama’s fingers creeping up under his shirt.
Whatever he’d been expecting from Kitayama, it wasn’t this hunger bordering on desperation. His hands were greedily pulling Fujigaya closer at the same time he was pushing him away to pull Fujigaya’s shirt over his head.
Fujigaya wanted to take the time to ask where this all was coming from and enjoy the attention a little, but he was too busy keeping up and being infected by the heat coming off of Kitayama’s damp, naked body.
He arched up toward Kitayama, trying to get a little more skin on skin but Kitayama was hunched over him, kissing his neck, almost certainly leaving a mark. Dick. So Fujigaya concentrated on running his hands up the wet skin of Kitayama’s back and then down again, sliding under the towel around his waist to grab a handful of ass and rock his hips up into Kitayama’s.
Fujigaya’s breath caught in his throat when he felt how hard Kitayama was. He hastily pulled the towel away from Kitayama’s hips.
Kitayama responded by pushing Fujigaya’s pants as far down past his hips as he could and pulling Fujigaya’s cock free of the constraining fabric to get a hand around it and stroke him to full erection.
“Fuck,” Fujigaya panted. “Slow down. Damn.”
“Don’ wanna,” Kitayama said. He claimed Fujigaya’s mouth again, hard, and tilted his hips down so he could get his hand around both of their cocks at the same time. He rocked his hips into his own touch, moaning. “Come on,” he urged.
He was going too fast for Fujigaya to keep up, and he knew it, but there comes a point when you’re running at full speed when you just don’t want to stop. He felt like he was a little high, Fujigaya’s panting breaths into his mouth stealing his own oxygen. And Fujigaya’s hand around his own and both of their erections only pushed him closer to the edge.
“Wait,” Fujigaya demanded.
He squeezed Kitayama’s hand a little, trying to force him to slow his pace but the extra pressure seemed to snap the tenuous grip Kitayama had on control and his pace faltered, his hips thrusting almost of their own volition in a stilted, jerky motion.
He came hot and sticky over both of their hands with a strained “Ah-aah-” and biting Fujigaya’s bottom lip, maybe a little too hard as his teeth chattered a little and he shivered through his orgasm. He let his forehead rest against Fujigaya’s.
“Um,” he began but coherent thought had not yet returned to him.
Fujigaya kissed him, this time a little more softly than before. “That was. . . unexpected.” It occurred to him that Kitayama might feel like he was mocking him on account of the fact that Fujigaya hadn’t come, so he immediately added, “But let’s do it again sometime when I can keep up with you.”
That seemed to stir something in Kitayama. “Oh, we’re not done,” he answered.
“Well one of us is,” Fujigaya mumbled, not quite under his breath.
“Shut up or I’ll leave you like that,” Kitayama said. He climbed off of Fujigaya and headed back into the bathroom calling “Well? Come on” over his shoulder.
Fujigaya obliged him, stepping out of his pants as they pooled around his ankles and following Kitayama into the shower. Having gotten the speed and adrenaline out of his system, Kitayama took his time with Fujigaya.
Under the hot spray of the shower, with slick, deft hands on slippery, wet skin Kitayama worked Fujigaya over until he was having considerable difficulty staying upright. He scraped his nails over Fujigaya’s skin, massaged and stroked here and there until Fujigaya didn’t know where he’d rather have Kitayama’s hands. He was putty in them. Everywhere seemed like a good place to be touched.
With his hand around Fujigaya’s length, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow circles over the head, Kitayama drank in Fujigaya’s slack, plush mouth. He ran his tongue along Fujigaya’s sucking it into his mouth in a tease of what he was about to do to Fujigaya’s cock.
Eyes closed, knees getting wobbly, Fujigaya moaned helplessly.
Finally Kitayama pulled away. “I’m going to go down on you now.” Fujigaya’s head nodded quickly in response. “Open your damned eyes and watch.”
Fujigaya dragged his heavy eyelids open, a little shocked but all-too-willing to comply. He watched as Kitayama sank to his knees, dragging his hands down Fujigaya’s thighs and digging into his slippery skin, holding him upright.
He led with his tongue, slid it along the head and took it into his mouth slowly. He closed his lips around just the head of Fujigaya’s cock, lapped at the slit with his tongue, and sucked, maybe a little harder than was necessary. He just wanted to be sure he had Fujigaya’s undivided attention.
“Fuck oh god fucking hell,” Fujigaya mumbled but made eye contact with Kitayama and couldn’t break it no matter how hard he tried. Something in Kitayama’s look made it clear that if he stopped watching, Kitayama would stop and Fujigaya could not risk that.
With all the extra moisture from the shower, there was no end of dirty slurping sounds when Kitayama started licking and sucking along the length of his erection. The sounds alone were going to do Fujigaya in. His breathing came faster. He couldn’t get enough air. Couldn’t get enough of Kitayama’s hot, dark eyes; watching him watch.
But it was too much water. Kitayama couldn’t keep his eyes open looking up under the spray and Fujigaya couldn’t get a strong enough grip in Kitayama’s wet hair to get him to stay in the right spot long enough to tease the vein just the way he liked.
He leaned over Kitayama to turn the water off. When he did, he pushed ever so slightly forward into Kitayama’s waiting mouth. Kitayama gripped his ass with both hands and pulled him deeper, moving faster and almost swallowing around his cock.
“Oh fuck!” Fujigaya gasped and gripped the shower curtain for support. It pulled down in his hands, leaving him convulsing over Kitayama, cradling his wet head with both arms, hand full of curtain and water everywhere. He came in hot spurts down Kitayama’s throat and Kitayama drank him down.
After they finally shut the shower off and began making an attempt to sop up the water from the bathroom floor, Kitayama said, “So. . . that was fun.”
“Yeah.” Fujigaya wanted to be cool about it, say nothing else, just like Kitayama was doing, but he was dying to ask. Just before Kitayama headed for the door, he couldn’t help himself. “What brought that on, exactly?”
Kitayama shrugged. “I don’t know? I felt like it.” Unable to read the look on Fujigaya’s face, he hastily added, “It doesn’t have to, you know, be a thing. We can just forget it.”
“That would be a shame,” he answered and half-smiled.
Kitayama nodded and opened the door, heading out.
“Only next time, you don’t have to invent an excuse,” Fujigaya added.
Kitayama wheeled around to face him. “I totally didn’t!”
“Sure,” Fujigaya chuckled and shut the door in Kitayama’s sputtering face. He heard Kitayama’s voice saying “That’s bullshit!” through the door and he only chuckled louder so he could be sure Kitayama heard him in the hall. Maybe so, he thought. But he was looking forward to the next time, regardless.
..::Omake::..
Yokoo leveled Fujigaya with a serious glare. “Look, man, you know I have never cared what you did and with whom, but I am going to have to ask for the decency to throw the deadbolt if you’re getting. . . you know a. . .” Yokoo shook his head as if clearing the mental image, “. . .if you’re busy. In the shower.”
Fujigaya stared at him, wide-eyed and alarmed. “Umm. . .” His mouth opened and closed a few times before he could make anything come out. “But you left your key!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“On the table!” Fujigaya swung around to point at the evidence. Sure enough, the key was still there on the night stand between their two beds.
“Taipi,” Yokoo said slowly, trying not to chuckle too overtly, “That’s your key.”
Fujigaya’s shoulders sank, defeated. “Well fuck me.”
“No thanks. Seems like there’s a queue,” Yokoo replied. A split second later, a pillow sailed across the room and hit him in the face.