JE/NEWS- "Hypnotize (Or How to Have Sex at One Hundred Feet)"
Title: Hypnotize (Or How to Have Sex at One Hundred Feet)
Universe: JE/NEWS
Theme/Topic: KoyaTego (sort-of) pron
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairing/s: KoyaTego
Warnings/Spoilers: Crack, OOC, random.
Word Count: 1,255
Summary: Inspired by this photo- Koyama has always been in the habit of watching. Tegoshi likes putting on a show.
Dedication: For Crys, because I LOVE HER AT LEAST AS MUCH AS SHE LOVES ME. This was probably the fastest I have written something lately and it still ended up being too slow for you. I AM SORRY BB.
A/N: Ahaha all my stage-sex type things sound the same. I am lame. LOL This is what happens when Crys outsources. There’s no quality control.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
Koyama has gotten in the habit of watching simply because he’s had to over time; he always finds himself watching over the interactions between the staff and the members, between the audience and the members, between the members and the other members. He does it to make sure things go smoothly, to gauge his groupmates’ moods and feelings, to make sure everything is or is going to be okay. It’s become another natural part of him in his time at Johnny’s, become his necessary role in the group.
But it’s tiring sometimes, and sometimes it’s painful too, because more often than not he is the only one who knows how everyone feels about something (and therefore the only one who can make it better); sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so reliable or so understanding or so giving because it is an exhausting part to play.
But in the grand scheme of things he doesn’t mind it-can’t mind it - simply because he knows that people do crazy things for love all the time.
And he’s unabashedly in love with NewS, with being a part of NewS, and so even in those moments when he’s a little bit sick of going out of his way to accommodate everyone- of watching over them- he still does it anyway, because he knows that he’s doing it for the most important thing in the world.
Koyama makes sure to watch over them whenever he can simply because it’s become a habit of love.
And once in a while he discovers-mostly by surprise-that being the one who always watches can have its rewards as well.
As is the case now, as he sits in one of the bleachers overlooking the main stage; Tegoshi is on the platform right now, running through the dress rehearsal of his solo for tonight’s show while the others gather around and eat lunch or nap or play stupid games amongst themselves while they wait for their turn.
Koyama-out of habit-makes sure to watch Tegoshi just in case, just to be safe.
Except this time Tegoshi looks like he’s watching right back; when the lights dim part way and the music starts, the youngest member locks eyes with Koyama from across the stage. The way he does it, Koyama can’t look away.
And then Tegoshi starts to move, to the sultry notes of Spanish guitars strumming slow and silky in the background.
Koyama watches just like always only somehow different this time as well; he swallows a mouthful of his very expensive curry lunch set without tasting any of it and thinks to himself-a little bit helplessly- that Tegoshi’s dancing matches the music really well, the roll of his hips and the brush of his arms as fluid and mesmerizing as the flow of the guitar’s melody itself.
The lights get brighter at the height of the intro a few bars later and everything suddenly starts to speed up in a perfect, heart-stopping rush of flashes and motion; Koyama is glued to Tegoshi’s movements as they increase in ferocity, the oldest member hopelessly captivated by the casual toss of Tegoshi’s bangs out of his face and smooth rotation of his hips, with his arms going up and twining around himself, his fingertips brushing his own chest and then trailing along the loose collar of his shirt only to delve lower still, into the waistband of his pants, teasing shallowly along the length of his belt.
Koyama can’t tear his eyes away.
Four bars later, Tegoshi actually starts to sing.
And just like Koyama has always been inexplicably drawn to watch over his groupmates, Tegoshi has always been drawn to the beat of the music, to the rush of performance and the rise of the stage; when he’s here like this under the glare of the spotlight something inside him opens up and lets go. To Koyama, in moments like these, Tegoshi becomes a creature of naked instinct, of pure feeling.
It is impossible not to be captivated by such a thing.
And Koyama doesn’t try to be, instead he sucks in a sharp breath as Tegoshi performs at the apex of his own world, the youngest member’s long lashes fluttering over dark, ecstatic eyes, pink lips parted, cheeks flushed and rosy. His notes are teasingly breathy as he sways seductively to the thrumming guitars, hands running over himself, hips writhing in fluid, suggestive gyrations against the beat.
Koyama feels his heart pounding in time with Tegoshi’s movements; he can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think. His mouth feels dry and his palms start to sweat; there’s an anticipatory tension starting to build low in his belly the more he sees, coiling around itself tighter and tighter with every one of Tegoshi’s fluid movements, building towards some kind of mysterious, quivering height along with the music.
Koyama keeps watching.
And he swears that Tegoshi is watching back, the younger idol’s lips quirking into a small half smile on the stage as he slinks forward rhythmically, eyes hooded, running hands through his hair and moving his body in ways that make Koyama think of MOLA more than Ai no Matador.
It’s like three minutes straight of let’s make love in this club, and they don’t even have to touch once to do it.
Ten seconds and one climactic final shout from Tegoshi later, the stage lights smash to black and the music abruptly cuts out; after that it’s just Tegoshi on the stage again, sweet, spoiled Tegoshi who is breathing hard and sweating, skin flushed and eyes bright as he comes down from his peak with a warm, self-satisfied smile.
Koyama blinks, and at that moment, Shige pauses in the card game he is playing with Ryo to look at the older idol. He makes a face.
“Oh my god you drooled into your curry,” Shige announces disbelievingly, with that familiar elitist expression of why are you so dumb I can’t believe we’re best friends sometimes on his face.
Koyama jumps when he hears Shige’s derisive snort; he is suddenly pulled out of the world he’d immersed himself in just a moment ago, the one that consisted solely of his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the sound of Tegoshi’s voice wrapping around his him like a physical touch.
He discovers that yes, he has indeed drooled into his own curry over the course of the last few minutes. Amongst other things.
Horrified, he hastily, sheepishly wipes at his mouth with the clean corner of Yamapi’s absently discarded napkin that he finds sitting beside him while Shige looks on with vague concern. “Eh, I must have been really distracted just now, ne,” Koyama manages hoarsely by way of explanation, while Tegoshi innocently-or not so innocently-bounces back up to the group so he can have lunch as well.
When the youngest member sees Koyama sitting there with a half-finished bowl of cold curry and a face freshly smeared with the remnants Yamapi’s teriyaki sauce, Tegoshi laughs brightly to himself and absently dabs at the sweat on his forehead with a towel. “Kei-chan,” he chirps, before plopping down into the seat next to Koyama and dipping his pinky in the older member’s curry for a taste, “do you think my solo sounded okay just now?”
He absently licks the curry from his finger as he waits for an answer.
Which makes Koyama spill the rest of his lunch all over his own pants.
He supposes this is just another part about being in love.
END
IT IS LATE OKAY. EDITS NEEDED.
Universe: JE/NEWS
Theme/Topic: KoyaTego (sort-of) pron
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairing/s: KoyaTego
Warnings/Spoilers: Crack, OOC, random.
Word Count: 1,255
Summary: Inspired by this photo- Koyama has always been in the habit of watching. Tegoshi likes putting on a show.
Dedication: For Crys, because I LOVE HER AT LEAST AS MUCH AS SHE LOVES ME. This was probably the fastest I have written something lately and it still ended up being too slow for you. I AM SORRY BB.
A/N: Ahaha all my stage-sex type things sound the same. I am lame. LOL This is what happens when Crys outsources. There’s no quality control.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
Koyama has gotten in the habit of watching simply because he’s had to over time; he always finds himself watching over the interactions between the staff and the members, between the audience and the members, between the members and the other members. He does it to make sure things go smoothly, to gauge his groupmates’ moods and feelings, to make sure everything is or is going to be okay. It’s become another natural part of him in his time at Johnny’s, become his necessary role in the group.
But it’s tiring sometimes, and sometimes it’s painful too, because more often than not he is the only one who knows how everyone feels about something (and therefore the only one who can make it better); sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so reliable or so understanding or so giving because it is an exhausting part to play.
But in the grand scheme of things he doesn’t mind it-can’t mind it - simply because he knows that people do crazy things for love all the time.
And he’s unabashedly in love with NewS, with being a part of NewS, and so even in those moments when he’s a little bit sick of going out of his way to accommodate everyone- of watching over them- he still does it anyway, because he knows that he’s doing it for the most important thing in the world.
Koyama makes sure to watch over them whenever he can simply because it’s become a habit of love.
And once in a while he discovers-mostly by surprise-that being the one who always watches can have its rewards as well.
As is the case now, as he sits in one of the bleachers overlooking the main stage; Tegoshi is on the platform right now, running through the dress rehearsal of his solo for tonight’s show while the others gather around and eat lunch or nap or play stupid games amongst themselves while they wait for their turn.
Koyama-out of habit-makes sure to watch Tegoshi just in case, just to be safe.
Except this time Tegoshi looks like he’s watching right back; when the lights dim part way and the music starts, the youngest member locks eyes with Koyama from across the stage. The way he does it, Koyama can’t look away.
And then Tegoshi starts to move, to the sultry notes of Spanish guitars strumming slow and silky in the background.
Koyama watches just like always only somehow different this time as well; he swallows a mouthful of his very expensive curry lunch set without tasting any of it and thinks to himself-a little bit helplessly- that Tegoshi’s dancing matches the music really well, the roll of his hips and the brush of his arms as fluid and mesmerizing as the flow of the guitar’s melody itself.
The lights get brighter at the height of the intro a few bars later and everything suddenly starts to speed up in a perfect, heart-stopping rush of flashes and motion; Koyama is glued to Tegoshi’s movements as they increase in ferocity, the oldest member hopelessly captivated by the casual toss of Tegoshi’s bangs out of his face and smooth rotation of his hips, with his arms going up and twining around himself, his fingertips brushing his own chest and then trailing along the loose collar of his shirt only to delve lower still, into the waistband of his pants, teasing shallowly along the length of his belt.
Koyama can’t tear his eyes away.
Four bars later, Tegoshi actually starts to sing.
And just like Koyama has always been inexplicably drawn to watch over his groupmates, Tegoshi has always been drawn to the beat of the music, to the rush of performance and the rise of the stage; when he’s here like this under the glare of the spotlight something inside him opens up and lets go. To Koyama, in moments like these, Tegoshi becomes a creature of naked instinct, of pure feeling.
It is impossible not to be captivated by such a thing.
And Koyama doesn’t try to be, instead he sucks in a sharp breath as Tegoshi performs at the apex of his own world, the youngest member’s long lashes fluttering over dark, ecstatic eyes, pink lips parted, cheeks flushed and rosy. His notes are teasingly breathy as he sways seductively to the thrumming guitars, hands running over himself, hips writhing in fluid, suggestive gyrations against the beat.
Koyama feels his heart pounding in time with Tegoshi’s movements; he can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think. His mouth feels dry and his palms start to sweat; there’s an anticipatory tension starting to build low in his belly the more he sees, coiling around itself tighter and tighter with every one of Tegoshi’s fluid movements, building towards some kind of mysterious, quivering height along with the music.
Koyama keeps watching.
And he swears that Tegoshi is watching back, the younger idol’s lips quirking into a small half smile on the stage as he slinks forward rhythmically, eyes hooded, running hands through his hair and moving his body in ways that make Koyama think of MOLA more than Ai no Matador.
It’s like three minutes straight of let’s make love in this club, and they don’t even have to touch once to do it.
Ten seconds and one climactic final shout from Tegoshi later, the stage lights smash to black and the music abruptly cuts out; after that it’s just Tegoshi on the stage again, sweet, spoiled Tegoshi who is breathing hard and sweating, skin flushed and eyes bright as he comes down from his peak with a warm, self-satisfied smile.
Koyama blinks, and at that moment, Shige pauses in the card game he is playing with Ryo to look at the older idol. He makes a face.
“Oh my god you drooled into your curry,” Shige announces disbelievingly, with that familiar elitist expression of why are you so dumb I can’t believe we’re best friends sometimes on his face.
Koyama jumps when he hears Shige’s derisive snort; he is suddenly pulled out of the world he’d immersed himself in just a moment ago, the one that consisted solely of his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the sound of Tegoshi’s voice wrapping around his him like a physical touch.
He discovers that yes, he has indeed drooled into his own curry over the course of the last few minutes. Amongst other things.
Horrified, he hastily, sheepishly wipes at his mouth with the clean corner of Yamapi’s absently discarded napkin that he finds sitting beside him while Shige looks on with vague concern. “Eh, I must have been really distracted just now, ne,” Koyama manages hoarsely by way of explanation, while Tegoshi innocently-or not so innocently-bounces back up to the group so he can have lunch as well.
When the youngest member sees Koyama sitting there with a half-finished bowl of cold curry and a face freshly smeared with the remnants Yamapi’s teriyaki sauce, Tegoshi laughs brightly to himself and absently dabs at the sweat on his forehead with a towel. “Kei-chan,” he chirps, before plopping down into the seat next to Koyama and dipping his pinky in the older member’s curry for a taste, “do you think my solo sounded okay just now?”
He absently licks the curry from his finger as he waits for an answer.
Which makes Koyama spill the rest of his lunch all over his own pants.
He supposes this is just another part about being in love.
END
IT IS LATE OKAY. EDITS NEEDED.