[Oneshot] Bon Voyage
Title: Bon Voyage
Pairing: Murakami Shingo x Yamashita Tomohisa (HinaPi!)
Genre: AU
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yamapi can't help but dream of seeing the world outside the dumpy little town he lives in, and he'd like to take Shingo with him.
Notes: Written for a comment fic challenge that I had over the weekend with a few friends. The prompt was Murakami Shingo x Yamashita Tomohisa = Ashita o Mezashite [Tokio]. So, uh, blame the porn on Nagase. 8D; Dedicated to nanyakanya and crystallekil, because they understand the beauty that is Hina in a wife beater. 8|
Also, as nanyakanya pointed out, everytime I write really bizarre pairings I write them seriously. Yeah, I don't understand it, either. XD;
Throwing this up in a journal entry so the formatting is all ~pretty~.
"Let's leave." Tomohisa isn't exactly sure what inspires him to say it, but the words just slip out late one night after the last of the customers has gone home, when it's just him and Shingo left to close up shop and get things ready for the morning. They work in a run-down diner in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills and grass and more cows than he's ever cared to count. Right through the middle of all this nothing, however, runs a highway that leads out of this nowhere of a town and into somewhere, and it’s this that Tomohisa is thinking about when he says these words.
Shingo laughs and shoots him a grin from where he's hunched over the grill, his wifebeater stained with grease and sweat as he scrapes a day's worth of burnt food and oil away. He pauses and wipes his forehead on the back of his hand and gives Tomohisa a look. "I don't think Nakai would appreciate that."
Tomohisa blinks, takes a second to process Shingo's meaning and shakes his head. "No, I mean... not now. Not the diner. I meant, let's leave this town, this place."
Shingo arches his eyebrows, his face caught in a half-smile, like he's not quite sure what to make of the other's words. Not that Tomohisa really blames him. They've worked together at the dinner for the better part of a year but they aren't exactly what he'd call best friends. "You mean leave, as in get in a car and drive away? Together?"
Tomohisa nods, slowly, starting to look a little embarrassed as he meets Shingo's eyes. "Yeah."
Shingo shakes his head, something like understanding flashing in his eyes as he turns his attention back to the grill. "You want to get out of here that bad, huh?"
"Don't you ever feel like you're suffocating here?" Tomohisa leans against the counter, the tables that need wiping and salt shakers that need to be filled forgotten for the moment as he watches Shingo work on a particularly stubborn patch near the front of the grill, the muscles of his arms tensing as he scrapes at it stubbornly.
"Sometimes," Shingo answers without so much as a sideways glance.
"How do you stand it?" Tomohisa watches Shingo finish and toss the blackened scrubber into the sink to be washed, waiting to hear his answer. Out of everyone he knows here, Shingo has always seemed like he belonged the least, too full of life and laughter for a small, dumpy town like this, with no prospects and where excitement is considered a trip to the bar on a Saturday night.
"Because I have to," Shingo breaks the silence finally as he comes to lean against the counter, his hip just brushing Tomohisa's. "There are worse places to be, after all."
"You never dream about getting out of here?"
"Of course I do," Shingo answers with a soft snort, as if Tomohisa's words are just that funny. He scuffs his foot against the floor, his face thoughtful as he turns to meet the younger man's eyes. "What about you?"
Tomohisa nods, hesitating for just a moment before he answers. "I want to learn how to surf."
Shingo blinks, opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs. "Surf? Your dream is to drive off into the sunset to surf?"
Tomohisa nods and doesn't even have time to flinch before Shingo reaches out and smacks him across the back of the head.
"If you're going to leave you need a better plan that that." Tomohisa is still rubbing the back of his head as Shingo tosses him a rag, still snickering to himself. "You should finish up the tables so we can get out of here."
Tomohisa catches the towel and stares down at it for a long moment, regretting ever opening his big mouth. Some things are just not meant to be shared with anybody, even if you do spend at least four nights every week holed up with them in a place like this. Pushing thoughts of leaving to the back of his mind, he turns and heads out to finish up with the tables.
--
It's been two weeks since their conversation, long enough for Tomohisa to have half-forgotten about it, when he walks out of work to find Shingo waiting for him, leaning against the door of his beat up '87 Crown Victoria, his jeans riding low on his hips and a smirk playing across his lips. A set of keys are dangling from his fingers as he meets Tomohisa's eyes and jerks his head towards the car. "Let's get out of here."
"Now?"
"Yes, now," Shingo answers, smacking Tomohisa playfully and laughing at the look he gets in return. "Aren't you the one who did all that talk about leaving? We've both got the weekend off, so let's get out of here."
Tomohisa blinks once, twice, then answers with a slow nod and a smile so wide that he has to scrunch his nose just to make room for it.
--
It takes a day for them to get where they're going, an unknown destination that Shingo refuses to name and Tomohisa suspects is little more than the distance that Shingo is willing and able to drive before they have to stop. Whatever it is, they end up in a little wayside town, dumpy and rundown and not much better than where they've come from, but Tomohisa can smell sea salt in the air and hear waves through the open car window as Hina parks in an empty parking lot just off the beach.
There are still a few hours left until sunrise and everything around them is completely still, save the rustling of their map as Tomohisa does his best to refold it and shove it into the glove compartment. He ignores Shingo's snickering as he just manages to cram it inside, his eyes heavy as he settles back against the soft, well worn seats. The car smells faintly of cigarettes and the convenience store sandwiches they'd stopped to get somewhere along the way, even after driving for hours with the windows open to the cool night air. He inhales deeply, not really minding.
"So, we're here. Is it what you were expecting?" Shingo asks, leaning over to fish his pack of cigarettes off the dash.
"No," Tomohisa answers and closes his eyes slowly. "But I like it this way."
They fall silent for a long moment, the sound of Shingo lighting his cigarette and the occasional exhale the only reminders to Tomohisa that he's not out here alone. He's a little more than half-asleep when he hears Shingo shift, and the seat dips next to him as the other slides closer. Shingo's arm is around his shoulders, and he feels the other's breath against his cheek as he leans closer, the only warning before Shingo's lips are pressed against his own.
Tomohisa opens his eyes slowly to find Shingo's face too close to focus. The older man's breath is warm against his lips and Tomohisa shivers, wraps his arms around Shingo's shoulders and leans in to return the kiss without bothering to ask 'why'. He's sure there's a reason that Shingo is kissing him, the same way that there is a reason that he's kissing Shingo back, but right now, huddled together on the front seat of Shingo's old car on a beach that's god-knows-where, he really couldn't care about any of that.
He's here, Shingo's here, and Shingo's lips feel really good against his own. That's all the reason he needs.
He's still not inclined to question when Shingo lays him back against the seat. Instead he just tightens his grip on the other's shirt and pulls him closer, spreading his legs to make room as Shingo settles between them. Tomohisa loses track of how long they stay like that, bodies pressed tight together, too distracted by the heat he can feel rolling off the other's skin and the way Shingo's tongue rubs against his own, hungry and demanding, to care.
When they finally break for air the front of Tomohisa's pants are just tight enough to hurt, and he can feel Shingo's erection digging into his hip. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, a silent exchange passing between them before Tomohisa reaches down and grabs the hem of Shingo's shirt and pulls it up and over his head, taking the time to admire the view as Shingo reaches down and returns the favor.
There's a slight pause as Shingo admires him, in turn, and he does his best not to squirm against the seat. He's not particularly unattractive, he knows, but he's not one to flaunt his body, either, and he's not really used to someone scrutinizing him like this. Not that he hasn't had lovers before-- just never one that looked at him quite so long and hard.
It proves to be worth it, though, when Shingo meets his eyes again, and the look that he gives him is enough to make heat pool in Tomohisa's stomach. He does squirm against the seat, then, but this time for an entirely different reason.
Shingo's tongue is in his mouth before he has time to so much as think that he'd like another kiss, and all his momentary worries fly out the window, along with his ability for coherent thought. His hands tangle in the other's hair, tugging him closer to deepen the kiss as Shingo settles against him, the feel of bare skin against bare skin enough to make him groan. Shingo obviously enjoys the feeling, too, if the accompanying sound he makes and the way his hips press against Tomohisa's suddenly, making quick, tight thrusts as he seeks out more friction, are any indication.
Tomohisa makes a needy noise against the other's mouth and brings a leg up from the seat to wrap around Shingo's thighs, urging him closer, wanting more but too preoccupied with the kiss to ask for it. Luckily he doesn't have to, as Shingo can apparently read his mind or, more likely, his body language, and thrusts a hand between them, palming Tomohisa through his jeans briefly before he fumbles the younger man’s fly open and slips a hand inside to wrap around him.
"Shingo," Tomohisa groans as he breaks their kiss, his voice rough and odd sounding to his own ears. He arches his back, thrusting his hips off the seat and up into the other's touch, his movements more and more needy as Shingo tightens his hand around him.
It isn't until he can feel Shingo slide his erection out of his now open jeans that he thinks to slide his own hand between them to try to work open Shingo’s jeans in return. He struggles with the button, his hands shaking as the other presses his thumb against the head of his cock and makes him lose his mind just a little. He manages, with some effort and not a little swearing, but thinks that the almost animal groan that Shingo makes when he slips his hand inside and wraps his hand around the heated flesh that he finds there is completely worth the effort.
He thinks it's even more worth it when they both manage to let go of each other just long enough to divest themselves of their jeans and underwear and Shingo settles back against him, his hand sliding back between them to press their lengths together, stroking them in unison.
Tomohisa closes his eyes and tilts his head back, losing himself in the sensation. He can't hear anything other than their mutual harsh breathing and grunts of pleasure, and the smell of their sweat mixing with the lingering cigarette smoke in the car is almost overpowering, but he's ceased to care. His entire consciousness is centered on the way Shingo's hand glides over them both, fast and rough and entirely too perfect, and at the moment he couldn't care if they were having sex on the kitchen floor back at the diner as long as it felt just like this.
He can hear Shingo's breathing grow faster and knows he's close, even as his own toes curl against the seat and his body tightens in anticipation. The last few seconds are over far too quickly and he's not even able to open his eyes to catch a glimpse of Shingo's face before it's over. He can hear Shingo gasp his name as he comes and he's right there with him, crying out softly and shaking against the seat, clinging to the other man as they come down slowly together.
Afterwards, they lay together on the seat, Shingo still on top of him as their breathing evens out and the sweat starts to dry on their skin. Tomohisa knows they should clean each other off, at the very least, but he closes his eyes and lets himself fall into a half-doze instead, too exhausted to really care at the moment.
He's half-asleep when Shingo's voice brings him back, rough around the edges and sounding just as tired and sated as Tomohisa feels. "Was that what you were expecting?"
Tomohisa's lips curl into a smile and he tightens his arms around the other as he answers, "No, but I like it this way."
Pairing: Murakami Shingo x Yamashita Tomohisa (HinaPi!)
Genre: AU
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yamapi can't help but dream of seeing the world outside the dumpy little town he lives in, and he'd like to take Shingo with him.
Notes: Written for a comment fic challenge that I had over the weekend with a few friends. The prompt was Murakami Shingo x Yamashita Tomohisa = Ashita o Mezashite [Tokio]. So, uh, blame the porn on Nagase. 8D; Dedicated to nanyakanya and crystallekil, because they understand the beauty that is Hina in a wife beater. 8|
Also, as nanyakanya pointed out, everytime I write really bizarre pairings I write them seriously. Yeah, I don't understand it, either. XD;
Throwing this up in a journal entry so the formatting is all ~pretty~.
"Let's leave." Tomohisa isn't exactly sure what inspires him to say it, but the words just slip out late one night after the last of the customers has gone home, when it's just him and Shingo left to close up shop and get things ready for the morning. They work in a run-down diner in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills and grass and more cows than he's ever cared to count. Right through the middle of all this nothing, however, runs a highway that leads out of this nowhere of a town and into somewhere, and it’s this that Tomohisa is thinking about when he says these words.
Shingo laughs and shoots him a grin from where he's hunched over the grill, his wifebeater stained with grease and sweat as he scrapes a day's worth of burnt food and oil away. He pauses and wipes his forehead on the back of his hand and gives Tomohisa a look. "I don't think Nakai would appreciate that."
Tomohisa blinks, takes a second to process Shingo's meaning and shakes his head. "No, I mean... not now. Not the diner. I meant, let's leave this town, this place."
Shingo arches his eyebrows, his face caught in a half-smile, like he's not quite sure what to make of the other's words. Not that Tomohisa really blames him. They've worked together at the dinner for the better part of a year but they aren't exactly what he'd call best friends. "You mean leave, as in get in a car and drive away? Together?"
Tomohisa nods, slowly, starting to look a little embarrassed as he meets Shingo's eyes. "Yeah."
Shingo shakes his head, something like understanding flashing in his eyes as he turns his attention back to the grill. "You want to get out of here that bad, huh?"
"Don't you ever feel like you're suffocating here?" Tomohisa leans against the counter, the tables that need wiping and salt shakers that need to be filled forgotten for the moment as he watches Shingo work on a particularly stubborn patch near the front of the grill, the muscles of his arms tensing as he scrapes at it stubbornly.
"Sometimes," Shingo answers without so much as a sideways glance.
"How do you stand it?" Tomohisa watches Shingo finish and toss the blackened scrubber into the sink to be washed, waiting to hear his answer. Out of everyone he knows here, Shingo has always seemed like he belonged the least, too full of life and laughter for a small, dumpy town like this, with no prospects and where excitement is considered a trip to the bar on a Saturday night.
"Because I have to," Shingo breaks the silence finally as he comes to lean against the counter, his hip just brushing Tomohisa's. "There are worse places to be, after all."
"You never dream about getting out of here?"
"Of course I do," Shingo answers with a soft snort, as if Tomohisa's words are just that funny. He scuffs his foot against the floor, his face thoughtful as he turns to meet the younger man's eyes. "What about you?"
Tomohisa nods, hesitating for just a moment before he answers. "I want to learn how to surf."
Shingo blinks, opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs. "Surf? Your dream is to drive off into the sunset to surf?"
Tomohisa nods and doesn't even have time to flinch before Shingo reaches out and smacks him across the back of the head.
"If you're going to leave you need a better plan that that." Tomohisa is still rubbing the back of his head as Shingo tosses him a rag, still snickering to himself. "You should finish up the tables so we can get out of here."
Tomohisa catches the towel and stares down at it for a long moment, regretting ever opening his big mouth. Some things are just not meant to be shared with anybody, even if you do spend at least four nights every week holed up with them in a place like this. Pushing thoughts of leaving to the back of his mind, he turns and heads out to finish up with the tables.
--
It's been two weeks since their conversation, long enough for Tomohisa to have half-forgotten about it, when he walks out of work to find Shingo waiting for him, leaning against the door of his beat up '87 Crown Victoria, his jeans riding low on his hips and a smirk playing across his lips. A set of keys are dangling from his fingers as he meets Tomohisa's eyes and jerks his head towards the car. "Let's get out of here."
"Now?"
"Yes, now," Shingo answers, smacking Tomohisa playfully and laughing at the look he gets in return. "Aren't you the one who did all that talk about leaving? We've both got the weekend off, so let's get out of here."
Tomohisa blinks once, twice, then answers with a slow nod and a smile so wide that he has to scrunch his nose just to make room for it.
--
It takes a day for them to get where they're going, an unknown destination that Shingo refuses to name and Tomohisa suspects is little more than the distance that Shingo is willing and able to drive before they have to stop. Whatever it is, they end up in a little wayside town, dumpy and rundown and not much better than where they've come from, but Tomohisa can smell sea salt in the air and hear waves through the open car window as Hina parks in an empty parking lot just off the beach.
There are still a few hours left until sunrise and everything around them is completely still, save the rustling of their map as Tomohisa does his best to refold it and shove it into the glove compartment. He ignores Shingo's snickering as he just manages to cram it inside, his eyes heavy as he settles back against the soft, well worn seats. The car smells faintly of cigarettes and the convenience store sandwiches they'd stopped to get somewhere along the way, even after driving for hours with the windows open to the cool night air. He inhales deeply, not really minding.
"So, we're here. Is it what you were expecting?" Shingo asks, leaning over to fish his pack of cigarettes off the dash.
"No," Tomohisa answers and closes his eyes slowly. "But I like it this way."
They fall silent for a long moment, the sound of Shingo lighting his cigarette and the occasional exhale the only reminders to Tomohisa that he's not out here alone. He's a little more than half-asleep when he hears Shingo shift, and the seat dips next to him as the other slides closer. Shingo's arm is around his shoulders, and he feels the other's breath against his cheek as he leans closer, the only warning before Shingo's lips are pressed against his own.
Tomohisa opens his eyes slowly to find Shingo's face too close to focus. The older man's breath is warm against his lips and Tomohisa shivers, wraps his arms around Shingo's shoulders and leans in to return the kiss without bothering to ask 'why'. He's sure there's a reason that Shingo is kissing him, the same way that there is a reason that he's kissing Shingo back, but right now, huddled together on the front seat of Shingo's old car on a beach that's god-knows-where, he really couldn't care about any of that.
He's here, Shingo's here, and Shingo's lips feel really good against his own. That's all the reason he needs.
He's still not inclined to question when Shingo lays him back against the seat. Instead he just tightens his grip on the other's shirt and pulls him closer, spreading his legs to make room as Shingo settles between them. Tomohisa loses track of how long they stay like that, bodies pressed tight together, too distracted by the heat he can feel rolling off the other's skin and the way Shingo's tongue rubs against his own, hungry and demanding, to care.
When they finally break for air the front of Tomohisa's pants are just tight enough to hurt, and he can feel Shingo's erection digging into his hip. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, a silent exchange passing between them before Tomohisa reaches down and grabs the hem of Shingo's shirt and pulls it up and over his head, taking the time to admire the view as Shingo reaches down and returns the favor.
There's a slight pause as Shingo admires him, in turn, and he does his best not to squirm against the seat. He's not particularly unattractive, he knows, but he's not one to flaunt his body, either, and he's not really used to someone scrutinizing him like this. Not that he hasn't had lovers before-- just never one that looked at him quite so long and hard.
It proves to be worth it, though, when Shingo meets his eyes again, and the look that he gives him is enough to make heat pool in Tomohisa's stomach. He does squirm against the seat, then, but this time for an entirely different reason.
Shingo's tongue is in his mouth before he has time to so much as think that he'd like another kiss, and all his momentary worries fly out the window, along with his ability for coherent thought. His hands tangle in the other's hair, tugging him closer to deepen the kiss as Shingo settles against him, the feel of bare skin against bare skin enough to make him groan. Shingo obviously enjoys the feeling, too, if the accompanying sound he makes and the way his hips press against Tomohisa's suddenly, making quick, tight thrusts as he seeks out more friction, are any indication.
Tomohisa makes a needy noise against the other's mouth and brings a leg up from the seat to wrap around Shingo's thighs, urging him closer, wanting more but too preoccupied with the kiss to ask for it. Luckily he doesn't have to, as Shingo can apparently read his mind or, more likely, his body language, and thrusts a hand between them, palming Tomohisa through his jeans briefly before he fumbles the younger man’s fly open and slips a hand inside to wrap around him.
"Shingo," Tomohisa groans as he breaks their kiss, his voice rough and odd sounding to his own ears. He arches his back, thrusting his hips off the seat and up into the other's touch, his movements more and more needy as Shingo tightens his hand around him.
It isn't until he can feel Shingo slide his erection out of his now open jeans that he thinks to slide his own hand between them to try to work open Shingo’s jeans in return. He struggles with the button, his hands shaking as the other presses his thumb against the head of his cock and makes him lose his mind just a little. He manages, with some effort and not a little swearing, but thinks that the almost animal groan that Shingo makes when he slips his hand inside and wraps his hand around the heated flesh that he finds there is completely worth the effort.
He thinks it's even more worth it when they both manage to let go of each other just long enough to divest themselves of their jeans and underwear and Shingo settles back against him, his hand sliding back between them to press their lengths together, stroking them in unison.
Tomohisa closes his eyes and tilts his head back, losing himself in the sensation. He can't hear anything other than their mutual harsh breathing and grunts of pleasure, and the smell of their sweat mixing with the lingering cigarette smoke in the car is almost overpowering, but he's ceased to care. His entire consciousness is centered on the way Shingo's hand glides over them both, fast and rough and entirely too perfect, and at the moment he couldn't care if they were having sex on the kitchen floor back at the diner as long as it felt just like this.
He can hear Shingo's breathing grow faster and knows he's close, even as his own toes curl against the seat and his body tightens in anticipation. The last few seconds are over far too quickly and he's not even able to open his eyes to catch a glimpse of Shingo's face before it's over. He can hear Shingo gasp his name as he comes and he's right there with him, crying out softly and shaking against the seat, clinging to the other man as they come down slowly together.
Afterwards, they lay together on the seat, Shingo still on top of him as their breathing evens out and the sweat starts to dry on their skin. Tomohisa knows they should clean each other off, at the very least, but he closes his eyes and lets himself fall into a half-doze instead, too exhausted to really care at the moment.
He's half-asleep when Shingo's voice brings him back, rough around the edges and sounding just as tired and sated as Tomohisa feels. "Was that what you were expecting?"
Tomohisa's lips curl into a smile and he tightens his arms around the other as he answers, "No, but I like it this way."