{fic} tonight (i need a thrill)
tonight (i need a thrill)
junno/ueda, nc-17. 1.6k. this has literally no redeeming qualities.
thomas baudinette if you see this you're a bitch.
1/4th of a longer fic, but i wanted to get this section up for atenishinai ♥ current title shamelessly ripped from kat-tun's expose because i am incapable of original thought at this point in time.
to anyone else who might still be watching this journal for whatever reason - hello, it's been a long time, hasn't it? /)o(\
He likes a lot of things about Junno. His smile, for one. His personality. His ability to look back on years’ worth of bad haircuts without batting an eye. Even his jokes, at times, as terrible as they are.
His hands, though - his hands are at the top of that list. His fingers especially; they’re long and graceful, almost at odds with how damn clumsy Junno himself can be at the best of times.
He hasn’t told Junno any of this, but he’s pretty sure Junno knows anyway.
This time around, he’s straddling Junno’s lap on the dressing room couch after a choreography rehearsal. The other two have long since left - Kame to film an episode of Going and Nakamaru to go deal with something Shuichi related; he was pretty vague - and Ueda didn’t really have to try covering this up by asking Junno if he’d help him with some of the trickier dance moves afterwards, but he figured it would be a good idea in theory to cover his bases.
(In theory. In reality, Junno laughing his ass off and then proceeding to smirk throughout the rest of practice probably would’ve blown things if the other two hadn’t been in such a rush.)
He’s hard already, just from where he’s been grinding against Junno’s thigh, and he has no fucking idea why he even bothered changing into jeans after practice when all they’re doing is making things entirely uncomfortable for him. He’s too preoccupied with trying to get more friction to actually do anything about it, though, and in the end it’s Junno who undoes the fly, shoving them down his thighs as far as they’ll go. Which isn’t far at all, not with the way Ueda’s still pressed up against him.
“Up,” Junno says, and Ueda honest to god whines at having to break contact, but Junno’s hands are firm on his hips and then roughly yanking his jeans down to around his knees before pressing him back down; one hand goes to rub at his dick through his boxers while the other grabs his chin, tilting his head so Junno can bite right where jaw meets neck.
“Hey,” Ueda says, swatting - and failing - at the hand on his face, “don’t do that, you’re gonna leave a mark-“
“Just say you got it from boxing,” Junno says. (His grip is still firm; Ueda could knock it off if he really wanted to but he doesn’t, really, not if he’s being honest with himself.)
“Tried that last time. And it didn’t work, remember? I’m not suffering through a week of Nakamaru sideying me again, Taguchi.” Junno huffs a sigh but lets up on Ueda’s neck anyway; lets go of Ueda’s chin too while he’s at it.
Both hands are free now to yank Ueda’s underwear down, which is exactly what he does, just enough that his cock’s exposed but not enough that he has any mobility. He trails one finger - god, his fingers - down the line of Ueda’s dick and past his balls to rub at the edge of his entrance. He’s a fucking tease, and when Ueda can get himself together enough to look at Junno’s face, it’s clear he’s doing this on purpose.
“D’you have anything,” Junno asks. There are two fingers now, pushing at his hole but not pushing in, not where he needs them, and Ueda’s going to go crazy with need but he manages to nod.
“Left pocket,” he says, and Junno pulls his hand away - Ueda sags a little at the loss of touch - to fish around for the small bottle he’d tucked in there beforehand.
“You were carrying this around all day? That’s cute, Uepi,” Junno says, slicking up the fingers of his left hand. He tosses the bottle on the couch when he’s done, gripping Ueda’s hip with his clean hand. Ueda obligingly rises up on his knees a bit; Junno pats his hip condescendingly before slipping a finger in to the first knuckle. He doesn’t try and push past that, not yet; Ueda’s not new to this (not at all) but it still always takes him a little time to relax enough for things to fit.
Junno’s patient, though, and soon he’s loosened up enough that Junno can slide his finger the rest of the way in. The tip of it just grazes his prostate, and the moan he lets out is almost embarrassing.
“Been awhile?” Junno asks, smirking. Ueda just mumbles something about how Junno should shut up - it’s hard to focus when Junno’s pressing insistently into that spot now - and kisses him to make sure he really does stop talking.
The second finger comes soon after, slowly stretching him as it slides in, and it’s so fucking good, that feeling of getting worked open from the inside. He buries his face in the crook of Junno’s neck, hips rocking back and forth against Junno’s fingers.
It’s honestly no surprise that Junno likes to talk during sex, but what always comes as one is the sheer filth that he comes up with. He’d never have pegged Junno as a dirty talker before he started hooking up with him on a regular basis, but now that he knows it’s impossible to separate sex with Junno from it. Ueda won’t ever admit it out loud, but it’s pretty hot, Junno’s soft murmurs in his ear about cocks and sluts, how pretty he looks riding his fingers; how he was made to take it.
He almost sobs when the third finger works its way in, all three of them nudging at his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine and to his dick. Junno’s relentless, and Ueda’s so fucking hard it almost hurts. He reaches for his own dick to try and relieve some of the pressure, but Junno grabs both his wrists with his free hand before he can even get near, pulling them both close to his own chest.
“Don’t,” Junno says in his ear. “I wanna see you come just on on my fingers,” he says, low and filthy, and it shouldn’t be hot but it is, fuck him.
Junno’s seemingly spurred on by Ueda’s acceptance of this - his grip doesn’t loosen on Ueda’s wrists but his fingers start working him even harder, delving in deeper than before until Ueda almost starts begging for Junno to stop teasing him already, but then Junno spreads all three of them as wide as he can and that’s okay too, that feeling of getting stretched, of being open and used.
The fourth one just nudges its way in, Junno murmuring something about how hot he looks like this, how maybe he could fit his whole fist up there someday, and that’s it, he’s fucking gone, coming long and hard and without even a finger on his cock, just like Junno said.
Ueda feels oddly empty when Junno pulls his fingers out, melting limp and boneless into his lap. He buries his head back in the crook of Junno’s neck as he catches his breath, feels Junno wipe his hands on his back - what a fucking asshole.
He shifts, breathing mostly under control, and the hard length of Junno’s dick grinds into the crease of his thigh. Shit. He’s the asshole now, isn’t he. “Want me to do something about that?” he asks, hands already reaching for Junno’s belt.”
“You just gave me jerk-off material for like a week,” Junno says, “I think we’re even.” Ueda just raises an eyebrow, and Junno grins. “Well, if Uepi’s offering, I’m not gonna say no.” He looks thoughtful for a second. “Let me come on your face,” he says finally.
Ueda snorts. “That’s it? Really? You’re a fucking perv, Taguchi,” he says, but he slips off of Junno’s lap anyway, going to kneel between his legs. “Just don’t get it in my hair,” he warns, and Junno nods as he unzips, pulling his cock out.
Junno isn’t going to last long, he can tell - he’s already worked up from having Ueda squirming in his lap for the better part of the past half-hour, and Ueda just rests his head on Junno’s right knee as he waits for Junno to come. It’s odd, being between someone’s legs and not actually doing anything, but this way it means he gets to watch Junno’s face as he gets closer to coming, the way his eyes are squeezed shut as his hand flies up and down.
“Uepi,” Junno breathes, eyes opening partway, “I’m-“ and that’s all the warning he gets before Junno’s biting his lip, coming in warm spurts on Ueda’s face. He closes his own eyes so he doesn’t get anything in them, so he doesn’t get to watch Junno’s face as he comes down from his orgasm. Which is kind of a shame.
“You can open your eyes now,” Junno says, thumb smearing at a line of come that landed across his right cheekbone. He sounds amused, though Ueda doesn’t know why until he feels something damp trickle down his hairline.
“Great,” Ueda says, pawing uselessly at his hair, “a pervert and an asshole.” There’s no bite in it, and Junno just grins, unrepentant. He gives up on trying to get it out and just tries to scrub it in enough that it isn’t obvious that he has come in his hair, and resigns himself to showering as soon as he gets home.
“You took a taxi here today, right? Come back to mine,” Junno suggests, “I’ll help you wash your hair.”
Ueda just looks at him strangely - he doesn’t think he’s that easy to read, but apparently not. “You just have ulterior motives,” he says, but he’s already getting up to grab his stuff.
Junno stands, stretching languidly before grabbing his own bag. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says primly. “I’ll meet you outside,” he adds, one hand resting lightly on the small of Ueda’s back for a second, before heading out the door.
junno/ueda, nc-17. 1.6k. this has literally no redeeming qualities.
thomas baudinette if you see this you're a bitch.
1/4th of a longer fic, but i wanted to get this section up for atenishinai ♥ current title shamelessly ripped from kat-tun's expose because i am incapable of original thought at this point in time.
to anyone else who might still be watching this journal for whatever reason - hello, it's been a long time, hasn't it? /)o(\
He likes a lot of things about Junno. His smile, for one. His personality. His ability to look back on years’ worth of bad haircuts without batting an eye. Even his jokes, at times, as terrible as they are.
His hands, though - his hands are at the top of that list. His fingers especially; they’re long and graceful, almost at odds with how damn clumsy Junno himself can be at the best of times.
He hasn’t told Junno any of this, but he’s pretty sure Junno knows anyway.
This time around, he’s straddling Junno’s lap on the dressing room couch after a choreography rehearsal. The other two have long since left - Kame to film an episode of Going and Nakamaru to go deal with something Shuichi related; he was pretty vague - and Ueda didn’t really have to try covering this up by asking Junno if he’d help him with some of the trickier dance moves afterwards, but he figured it would be a good idea in theory to cover his bases.
(In theory. In reality, Junno laughing his ass off and then proceeding to smirk throughout the rest of practice probably would’ve blown things if the other two hadn’t been in such a rush.)
He’s hard already, just from where he’s been grinding against Junno’s thigh, and he has no fucking idea why he even bothered changing into jeans after practice when all they’re doing is making things entirely uncomfortable for him. He’s too preoccupied with trying to get more friction to actually do anything about it, though, and in the end it’s Junno who undoes the fly, shoving them down his thighs as far as they’ll go. Which isn’t far at all, not with the way Ueda’s still pressed up against him.
“Up,” Junno says, and Ueda honest to god whines at having to break contact, but Junno’s hands are firm on his hips and then roughly yanking his jeans down to around his knees before pressing him back down; one hand goes to rub at his dick through his boxers while the other grabs his chin, tilting his head so Junno can bite right where jaw meets neck.
“Hey,” Ueda says, swatting - and failing - at the hand on his face, “don’t do that, you’re gonna leave a mark-“
“Just say you got it from boxing,” Junno says. (His grip is still firm; Ueda could knock it off if he really wanted to but he doesn’t, really, not if he’s being honest with himself.)
“Tried that last time. And it didn’t work, remember? I’m not suffering through a week of Nakamaru sideying me again, Taguchi.” Junno huffs a sigh but lets up on Ueda’s neck anyway; lets go of Ueda’s chin too while he’s at it.
Both hands are free now to yank Ueda’s underwear down, which is exactly what he does, just enough that his cock’s exposed but not enough that he has any mobility. He trails one finger - god, his fingers - down the line of Ueda’s dick and past his balls to rub at the edge of his entrance. He’s a fucking tease, and when Ueda can get himself together enough to look at Junno’s face, it’s clear he’s doing this on purpose.
“D’you have anything,” Junno asks. There are two fingers now, pushing at his hole but not pushing in, not where he needs them, and Ueda’s going to go crazy with need but he manages to nod.
“Left pocket,” he says, and Junno pulls his hand away - Ueda sags a little at the loss of touch - to fish around for the small bottle he’d tucked in there beforehand.
“You were carrying this around all day? That’s cute, Uepi,” Junno says, slicking up the fingers of his left hand. He tosses the bottle on the couch when he’s done, gripping Ueda’s hip with his clean hand. Ueda obligingly rises up on his knees a bit; Junno pats his hip condescendingly before slipping a finger in to the first knuckle. He doesn’t try and push past that, not yet; Ueda’s not new to this (not at all) but it still always takes him a little time to relax enough for things to fit.
Junno’s patient, though, and soon he’s loosened up enough that Junno can slide his finger the rest of the way in. The tip of it just grazes his prostate, and the moan he lets out is almost embarrassing.
“Been awhile?” Junno asks, smirking. Ueda just mumbles something about how Junno should shut up - it’s hard to focus when Junno’s pressing insistently into that spot now - and kisses him to make sure he really does stop talking.
The second finger comes soon after, slowly stretching him as it slides in, and it’s so fucking good, that feeling of getting worked open from the inside. He buries his face in the crook of Junno’s neck, hips rocking back and forth against Junno’s fingers.
It’s honestly no surprise that Junno likes to talk during sex, but what always comes as one is the sheer filth that he comes up with. He’d never have pegged Junno as a dirty talker before he started hooking up with him on a regular basis, but now that he knows it’s impossible to separate sex with Junno from it. Ueda won’t ever admit it out loud, but it’s pretty hot, Junno’s soft murmurs in his ear about cocks and sluts, how pretty he looks riding his fingers; how he was made to take it.
He almost sobs when the third finger works its way in, all three of them nudging at his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine and to his dick. Junno’s relentless, and Ueda’s so fucking hard it almost hurts. He reaches for his own dick to try and relieve some of the pressure, but Junno grabs both his wrists with his free hand before he can even get near, pulling them both close to his own chest.
“Don’t,” Junno says in his ear. “I wanna see you come just on on my fingers,” he says, low and filthy, and it shouldn’t be hot but it is, fuck him.
Junno’s seemingly spurred on by Ueda’s acceptance of this - his grip doesn’t loosen on Ueda’s wrists but his fingers start working him even harder, delving in deeper than before until Ueda almost starts begging for Junno to stop teasing him already, but then Junno spreads all three of them as wide as he can and that’s okay too, that feeling of getting stretched, of being open and used.
The fourth one just nudges its way in, Junno murmuring something about how hot he looks like this, how maybe he could fit his whole fist up there someday, and that’s it, he’s fucking gone, coming long and hard and without even a finger on his cock, just like Junno said.
Ueda feels oddly empty when Junno pulls his fingers out, melting limp and boneless into his lap. He buries his head back in the crook of Junno’s neck as he catches his breath, feels Junno wipe his hands on his back - what a fucking asshole.
He shifts, breathing mostly under control, and the hard length of Junno’s dick grinds into the crease of his thigh. Shit. He’s the asshole now, isn’t he. “Want me to do something about that?” he asks, hands already reaching for Junno’s belt.”
“You just gave me jerk-off material for like a week,” Junno says, “I think we’re even.” Ueda just raises an eyebrow, and Junno grins. “Well, if Uepi’s offering, I’m not gonna say no.” He looks thoughtful for a second. “Let me come on your face,” he says finally.
Ueda snorts. “That’s it? Really? You’re a fucking perv, Taguchi,” he says, but he slips off of Junno’s lap anyway, going to kneel between his legs. “Just don’t get it in my hair,” he warns, and Junno nods as he unzips, pulling his cock out.
Junno isn’t going to last long, he can tell - he’s already worked up from having Ueda squirming in his lap for the better part of the past half-hour, and Ueda just rests his head on Junno’s right knee as he waits for Junno to come. It’s odd, being between someone’s legs and not actually doing anything, but this way it means he gets to watch Junno’s face as he gets closer to coming, the way his eyes are squeezed shut as his hand flies up and down.
“Uepi,” Junno breathes, eyes opening partway, “I’m-“ and that’s all the warning he gets before Junno’s biting his lip, coming in warm spurts on Ueda’s face. He closes his own eyes so he doesn’t get anything in them, so he doesn’t get to watch Junno’s face as he comes down from his orgasm. Which is kind of a shame.
“You can open your eyes now,” Junno says, thumb smearing at a line of come that landed across his right cheekbone. He sounds amused, though Ueda doesn’t know why until he feels something damp trickle down his hairline.
“Great,” Ueda says, pawing uselessly at his hair, “a pervert and an asshole.” There’s no bite in it, and Junno just grins, unrepentant. He gives up on trying to get it out and just tries to scrub it in enough that it isn’t obvious that he has come in his hair, and resigns himself to showering as soon as he gets home.
“You took a taxi here today, right? Come back to mine,” Junno suggests, “I’ll help you wash your hair.”
Ueda just looks at him strangely - he doesn’t think he’s that easy to read, but apparently not. “You just have ulterior motives,” he says, but he’s already getting up to grab his stuff.
Junno stands, stretching languidly before grabbing his own bag. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says primly. “I’ll meet you outside,” he adds, one hand resting lightly on the small of Ueda’s back for a second, before heading out the door.