'winter nights', model!au
Prompt: touch of moonlight madness.
Tezuka remembers. Originally posted here.
-
"We're snowed in," Tezuka announces, and waits for the room to fall to pieces around him. From the chattering voices, he can make out a few distinct sounds - Atobe's voice, rising in consternation, insisting he will find a way to leave, people owe him favors; Kawamura's stuttering about how he wasn't expecting that, and Fuji's chuckle.
Yukimura's silent, and when Tezuka glances at him, he can see the slight gleam in Yukimura's eyes. Inui and Yanagi are not in the room; probably hiding, Tezuka thinks, but they were both prepared for the possibility of more snow, and neither needs his announcement.
"Do they know how long we'll be here?" Fuji asks him, sliding up unexpectedly, and Tezuka reaffirms his decision to never work with extreme climates.
"No. The storm is expected to last a couple more days. After it ends, it will still be a few days before the roads are clear and safe enough for us to leave."
"What a shame," Fuji says, and his smile says he doesn't think it's a shame at all. "There's only one fireplace here. I was hoping for some privacy."
-
"You might want to avoid the main room," Tezuka tells Kawamura, as they walk upstairs together. Kawamura looks at him with a question in his eyes, but asks nothing.
"You shouldn't, Tezuka," Yukimura calls from the room they just left, and dissolves into laughter. Tezuka's back stiffens, and he ignores the look Kawamura gives him. He's not going to respond, not going to say anything, not going to react.
-
By midnight, the clouds break, but the wind is strong enough that it's going to bring in another storm, Tezuka's sure; more days of being trapped in this cabin with these people - ones he likes well enough, but ones he can't trust himself around.
For a moment, he thinks about getting up to make himself some tea; the wind is loud enough that he won't be getting back to sleep any time soon, and there's no need to be asleep at a certain time, because he has no need to be awake early, or at a decent hour; the next few days are his alone. Theirs. That's why, he thinks, Yukimura was amused, and explains Fuji's chuckle. More time, together; Tezuka knows their plans take them apart, after this shoot.
He pushes the blankets off, and sits up, but curls back up once his feet touch his cold slippers; not even the promise of warm tea is enough to pry him from bed, when it is freezing and the chill seeps through layers of socks and slippers. There is nothing wrong with staying in bed; if the wind suddenly dies, he can take advantage of the peace and sleep.
Tezuka thinks about braving the cold, being stronger than it, and going to the main room of the cabin, where the fireplace is, curling up there. But Fuji's words hit again, and he doesn't; sees seen it once, gotten caught and spent weeks trying to work up the courage to look at his models again. The images still haunt him, at night, when his bed is cold and the loneliness is sharper than usual.
He closes his eyes firmly, and starts counting backwards from 100, because he doesn't want to think about it, not then. He curls his hand around his pillow, so he's not tempted.
Outside his room, a board creeks, and he wonders if it's just the house settling, until it's followed by soft laughter, the sound of which he knows only too well. And in bed, Tezuka shifts, and curls up on his side, hands firmly clenching his pillow, until one lets go, and lands on the soft material of the flannel sheets.
It's the wind, only the wind, he repeats mentally, and ignores the twitch of his cock when he hears laughter again, this time right in front of his door. Ignores his hand, slipping down the bed, sliding closer to his body. But he can't ignore the chill of his fingers when his fingers push up his shirt, and slip beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. He does bite back on the gasp, though, and controls the shiver.
-
This time, the laughter seems to come from inside the room, all around him, both Yukimura's and Fuji's, and Tezuka squeezes his eyes tighter, so he can't see, curls his free arm over his head, so he can't hear, and wraps his hand around his cock.
His fingers aren't much warmer, but warming up, and his cock stiffens further, hot and heavy in his hands, and although the first stroke is tentative, as if he's a teenager again, still unfamiliar with his body and struggling to figure out what to do, it's enough to send a shiver of pleasure through his body.
Nothing's helping block out the sounds; Tezuka can hear his own soft gasps, heavy breathing, and shifting, as he thrusts into his hand and even the sound of his hand, rough against his cock. And above all of that, he can hear laughter, and breathless gasps, and wonders if they are fucking against his door. That thought makes him shudder, and tighten his fist around his cock. Although his eyes are tightly closed, the images of them, of the two that night, fucking on the floor of a dressing room, haunt him. He can't escape the picture, and, Tezuka thinks, he doesn't want to.
Tezuka pictures Yukimura coming, and then Fuji, head thrown back, and hears a dull thud that sounds suspiciously like someone hitting their head against a door, and comes into his hand, burying his face into his pillow to smother his sharp gasp.
-
"Did you have a good night?" Fuji asks, passing him a cup of tea the next morning.
"I slept fine," Tezuka responds, and doesn't look at Fuji, but accepts the tea.
"You look kind of pale. Perhaps you should sleep in the main room tonight, so you don't get cold."
-
Tezuka remembers. Originally posted here.
-
"We're snowed in," Tezuka announces, and waits for the room to fall to pieces around him. From the chattering voices, he can make out a few distinct sounds - Atobe's voice, rising in consternation, insisting he will find a way to leave, people owe him favors; Kawamura's stuttering about how he wasn't expecting that, and Fuji's chuckle.
Yukimura's silent, and when Tezuka glances at him, he can see the slight gleam in Yukimura's eyes. Inui and Yanagi are not in the room; probably hiding, Tezuka thinks, but they were both prepared for the possibility of more snow, and neither needs his announcement.
"Do they know how long we'll be here?" Fuji asks him, sliding up unexpectedly, and Tezuka reaffirms his decision to never work with extreme climates.
"No. The storm is expected to last a couple more days. After it ends, it will still be a few days before the roads are clear and safe enough for us to leave."
"What a shame," Fuji says, and his smile says he doesn't think it's a shame at all. "There's only one fireplace here. I was hoping for some privacy."
-
"You might want to avoid the main room," Tezuka tells Kawamura, as they walk upstairs together. Kawamura looks at him with a question in his eyes, but asks nothing.
"You shouldn't, Tezuka," Yukimura calls from the room they just left, and dissolves into laughter. Tezuka's back stiffens, and he ignores the look Kawamura gives him. He's not going to respond, not going to say anything, not going to react.
-
By midnight, the clouds break, but the wind is strong enough that it's going to bring in another storm, Tezuka's sure; more days of being trapped in this cabin with these people - ones he likes well enough, but ones he can't trust himself around.
For a moment, he thinks about getting up to make himself some tea; the wind is loud enough that he won't be getting back to sleep any time soon, and there's no need to be asleep at a certain time, because he has no need to be awake early, or at a decent hour; the next few days are his alone. Theirs. That's why, he thinks, Yukimura was amused, and explains Fuji's chuckle. More time, together; Tezuka knows their plans take them apart, after this shoot.
He pushes the blankets off, and sits up, but curls back up once his feet touch his cold slippers; not even the promise of warm tea is enough to pry him from bed, when it is freezing and the chill seeps through layers of socks and slippers. There is nothing wrong with staying in bed; if the wind suddenly dies, he can take advantage of the peace and sleep.
Tezuka thinks about braving the cold, being stronger than it, and going to the main room of the cabin, where the fireplace is, curling up there. But Fuji's words hit again, and he doesn't; sees seen it once, gotten caught and spent weeks trying to work up the courage to look at his models again. The images still haunt him, at night, when his bed is cold and the loneliness is sharper than usual.
He closes his eyes firmly, and starts counting backwards from 100, because he doesn't want to think about it, not then. He curls his hand around his pillow, so he's not tempted.
Outside his room, a board creeks, and he wonders if it's just the house settling, until it's followed by soft laughter, the sound of which he knows only too well. And in bed, Tezuka shifts, and curls up on his side, hands firmly clenching his pillow, until one lets go, and lands on the soft material of the flannel sheets.
It's the wind, only the wind, he repeats mentally, and ignores the twitch of his cock when he hears laughter again, this time right in front of his door. Ignores his hand, slipping down the bed, sliding closer to his body. But he can't ignore the chill of his fingers when his fingers push up his shirt, and slip beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. He does bite back on the gasp, though, and controls the shiver.
-
This time, the laughter seems to come from inside the room, all around him, both Yukimura's and Fuji's, and Tezuka squeezes his eyes tighter, so he can't see, curls his free arm over his head, so he can't hear, and wraps his hand around his cock.
His fingers aren't much warmer, but warming up, and his cock stiffens further, hot and heavy in his hands, and although the first stroke is tentative, as if he's a teenager again, still unfamiliar with his body and struggling to figure out what to do, it's enough to send a shiver of pleasure through his body.
Nothing's helping block out the sounds; Tezuka can hear his own soft gasps, heavy breathing, and shifting, as he thrusts into his hand and even the sound of his hand, rough against his cock. And above all of that, he can hear laughter, and breathless gasps, and wonders if they are fucking against his door. That thought makes him shudder, and tighten his fist around his cock. Although his eyes are tightly closed, the images of them, of the two that night, fucking on the floor of a dressing room, haunt him. He can't escape the picture, and, Tezuka thinks, he doesn't want to.
Tezuka pictures Yukimura coming, and then Fuji, head thrown back, and hears a dull thud that sounds suspiciously like someone hitting their head against a door, and comes into his hand, burying his face into his pillow to smother his sharp gasp.
-
"Did you have a good night?" Fuji asks, passing him a cup of tea the next morning.
"I slept fine," Tezuka responds, and doesn't look at Fuji, but accepts the tea.
"You look kind of pale. Perhaps you should sleep in the main room tonight, so you don't get cold."
-