JE/NEWS+KAT-TUN- "Modern Anthropology (or This is How Johnnies Make Dramas and Sometimes Babies)"
Title: Modern Anthropology (or This is How Johnnies Make Dramas and Sometimes Babies)
Universe: JE/ NewS/KAT-TUN
Theme/Topic: Tegoshi without Massu
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairing/s: Yamanade Cast (JohnniesxMiyao, but mostly MiyaoxTegoshi)
Warnings/Spoilers: Stupidity as per usual and bad characterization of Miyao probably (IT WOULD BE BETTER IF THEY STOPPED GLOSSING OVER HIM IN THE INTERVIEWS.)
Word Count: 2,430
Summary: Miyao studies the Johnnies.
Dedication: myxstorie’s request on my request meme, kind of! Last one! Unless someone wants to take the last spot I guess? LOL
A/N: This sort of has Tegoshi pairing stuffs in it? IDK I am incoherent. SLEEPY TIMES NOW.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
Despite being incredibly new and ignorant to the complex nuances that exist within the world of dramas and idols and filming and promotional press tours, Miyao Shuntaro likes to believe that through his rigorous training as a professional dancer, he has since learned how to interpret what is expected of him in any situation- and from there, discern how to best respond- simply by paying special attention to the specific cues he observes in other people’s body language.
During his studies in France, every single one of his ballet masters always stressed the fact that he was learning how to communicate with his actions rather than his words, with the movement of his arms and legs in lieu of the movements of his mouth.
“As dancers, we express ourselves through our bodies,” one master had told him flatly, as Miyao had struggled to understand his teacher with his rudimentary grasp of the language. “It is about being able to hold a dialogue between yourself and your audience that does not use, no, that does not require verbal communication.”
At the time, Miyao had understood the words that were being said, but not their underlying meaning. Frustrated at his inability to comprehend, he applied himself to his craft with a fervor that eventually managed to transcend the language barriers as, with the passing of each day, he discovered instead, what it meant to truly communicate with his body.
Upon his return to Japan many years later, he has discovered that this aspect of dance does not simply apply to his performances, but to life in general.
Body language, to Miyao, says so many more things than words ever can.
And right now, he is fairly certain his costars are trying to tell him something.
“Miyao-kun,” Kamenashi says one day, when the two of them are eating together, Seishiro-kun long gone to school and Aya-chan and the others in makeup and wardrobe, preparing for their next scenes, “it’s hard to believe this is really your first drama.” His words are harmless and careful and complimentary, but at the same time, Miyao notices the bent of his head, the shy look of interest in his eyes, the way his shoulders angle in, bringing them closer together despite the dressing room table being between them.
Kamenashi’s words are kind and his tone is even and calm, but to Miyao, Kamenashi’s body is saying something else entirely. “You’re very natural,” Kamenashi finishes after a beat, long bangs falling into his eyes for a moment.
Miyao blinks. “Thank you,” he says, and wonders if Kamenashi knows what he’s doing; perhaps this is another one of those Johnny-idol eccentricities that his manager had warned him about when they’d first signed for the job; that day Miyao’s manager said, quite plainly, “Johnnies are a little bit different from normal people.”
Miyao is beginning to learn that this is very true, and as such, attempts to go over his thoughts on the matter rationally.
Johnnies are trained in entirely different forms of communication than dancers like Miyao are; he begins to think that perhaps the seduction their bodies are paid to suggest on stage and on camera have become unconscious actions to them at this point, the years of practice making the art of attraction as natural to each of them as balancing on his toes has become to Miyao.
Right now Kamenashi’s body seems to be screaming, “I want you,” at Miyao, and Miyao isn’t sure if it’s just what Johnnies’ bodies are supposed to be screaming at people at all hours of the day or if it is something Kamenashi is genuinely trying to tell him right now.
In the meantime, Kamenashi simply continues to eat like nothing is the matter, brushing his hair out of his face every few minutes with the natural, easy grace of a hooker getting onto her knees.
Miyao, feeling slightly warm, supposes he still has a lot to learn about working with idols on dramas, and silently finishes his bento as quickly as is polite.
~~~~~
A week later, Uchi-kun crosses his arms, cants his hips just a little bit sideways, and examines Miyao’s wardrobe critically before the group is scheduled to make an appearance on a morning talk show. “Hmmm,” Uchi murmurs, lips pursed and slightly parted, fingers absently playing with one of the ends of the cravat he is wearing with an intense, anticipatory energy.
Miyao blinks; while he is fairly certain he’d heard Uchi say, “Hmmm,” just now, he also actually thinks Uchi had meant, “Mmmm,” instead, because it is what his fingers are saying, what his lips and eyebrows and hips are saying.
“Turn around,” Uchi instructs calmly, after a beat.
Miyao spins, with an easy, automatic grace, and Uchi’s fingers tighten just a little bit, on the ends of the cloth tied primly around his throat. “Those trousers don’t suit the length of your legs quite right,” Uchi gauges then, voice even, thoughtful, even professional to the point of almost seeming nonchalant. “You need to change pants.”
But at the same time, the way Uchi’s right hand tightens against his left bicep and the way his fingers finally come to a decisive, eerie stillness around his cravat seem to shout in shrill, rhythmic gasps, “You need to get out of your pants,” at Miyao instead.
A moment.
Then, “I see,” Miyao responds eventually, before he spins on his heel-sharply, perfectly-and marches back down to wardrobe in order to ask for a different pair of pants.
It’s no wonder, he thinks, as he retreats from Uchi’s pursed-lip gaze and feels slightly flushed, that the Johnnies are so popular with the girls here.
He swallows, starts to loosen his own ascot just a little, and wonders if he should tell them about the filthy things they are projecting out into the world with those lewd, graceful bodies of theirs, perhaps without meaning to, perhaps purely on instinct.
“The training Johnnies undergo must be as rigorous as my time in France,” he admits to his manager later, on the way home. “They’re very good at what they do.”
His manager gives him an odd look from behind the steering wheel. “Have you ever actually seen a J&A group perform live before?” he asks, in disbelief.
Inexplicably, Miyao finds himself thinking about the elegant, natural movement of Uchi’s fingers when he hears those words, the soft, seductive fall of Kame’s hair, and most of all, the hypnotic back-and-forth swaying of their hips when they walk.
If their bodies speak with things like this when they aren’t even conscious of it, Miyao is dead certain he doesn’t want to have to look at them when they are trying.
“No thanks,” is all he says to his manager, and after getting another odd look, they finish the drive back in thoughtful silence.
~~~~~
Miyao continues spending those initial weeks of filming studying his costars with a strange, inexplicable fascination; after some time he decides that perhaps Tegoshi is the only one not unconsciously broadcasting an intense desire for spontaneous fornication all of the time, as the youngest Johnny bounces happily around with Seishiro and a soccer ball, or thoughtfully writes his papers for school, or loudly and energetically composes songs on his guitar during their down time.
The inconsistency of Miyao’s findings is both perplexing and kind of comforting all at once; Miyao thinks that there would be real trouble in this world if, through the course of their training, all Johnnies did indeed become unconsciously wired for pornography day in and day out.
Miyao watches Tegoshi right now and feels himself smile a little at the image the youngest Johnny presents, when he stretches and yawns out of his chair as he’s called to standby on the second floor set. “Right!” he chirps to the assistant AD, nodding agreeably and readily following the staffer with good energy despite having to wait for the last several hours for his much delayed call.
As Tegoshi passes the mirror along the wall on his way out of the room he stops for a moment when he catches Miyao watching him intently from behind; oddly embarrassed at having been caught in such a manner, Miyao blinks and tries to look like he’d been spacing out just now instead.
But Tegoshi doesn’t buy it; he becomes thoughtful for a moment before he seems to get it, entirely too quickly for Miyao’s liking. Miyao can tell the exact moment it happens because he sees Tegoshi’s grin broaden through the mirror in that instant, in a certain way that inexplicably speeds up Miyao’s heart rate and makes him think, Oh no, all at the same time.
It is, Miyao realizes, a lot like someone unexpectedly flipping a switch from off to on. Perhaps the same kind of on that had prompted Uchi’s fingers to run seductively along his cravat before, or that had made Kamenashi’s hair fall into his eyes, or that had made all of their strides noticeably side-to-side and hip-to-hip even when the cameras weren’t pointed at them.
It is a switch that makes him think that maybe-just perhaps-his assumptions had been entirely wrong all this time; it seems like the seduction might be entirely conscious after all.
“I’ll be back in a bit!” Tegoshi singsongs sweetly then, eyes bright with epiphany as he turns and disappears down the hallway, making Miyao swallow when he sees the easy set of Tegoshi’s shoulders and the way his neck arches gracefully when he tilts his head a little, to look at Miyao from the corner of his eye on his way out.
Everything about Tegoshi’s body in that moment screams a breathy, promising, “Wait for me.”
Helpless, Miyao finds himself slowly sitting down in a nearby chair and doing exactly as he’s told.
~~~~~
“Ne, you’ve been watching us a lot lately right?” Tegoshi says some time later, when Uchi and Kamenashi are off to film a sequence at the coffee shop set. The spark of interest in Tegoshi’s eyes, the way he creeps forward into Miyao’s personal space is all in agreement with his words. “You’ve been eyeing us when you think we haven’t been watching but we have,” it teases loudly, even though Tegoshi’s voice is barely a whisper in the large backstage waiting area.
Miyao coughs, feeling oddly vulnerable in front of those enormous, amused eyes, despite being the oldest, the biggest, the strongest of them all. “I was just curious,” he begins, uncrossing his legs on the chair he’s sitting on, straightening his shoulders, squaring his chin. His body language is businesslike and impartial this way, so that when he asks, “Do Johnnies always move like sex?” it will be out of professional curiosity, out of fascination for the craft from dancer to dancer and nothing else.
But Tegoshi is willfully construing his actions in an entirely contrary manner despite Miyao’s best efforts to be clear and decisive with them, and none of the young idol’s interpretation seems to be very businesslike or professional or impartial at all. Apparently he thinks that Miyao uncrossing his legs is an invitation to sit on them, that the straightening of Miyao’s shoulders is a sign to rest his hands on them, that the squaring of Miyao’s jaw is a request for him to nuzzle his throat.
Under this assault, he doesn’t get to fully ask his question after all; he only manages to get out, a half-coherent “Do all Johnnies always move like unnngh…” instead.
But it’s fine, Tegoshi actions have already unwittingly answered him anyway, because looking down at the pliant, inviting idol in his lap tells Miyao that they only move like sex when they’re thinking about it, but it just so happens that they think about it a lot.
This discovery is capped off with an additional exclamation point (or two or three) of approval, all that punctuation coming fervently (and suddenly) from the vicinity of Miyao’s pants.
To his combined horror and relief, it is a body language signal that Tegoshi receives without any sort of confusion or hesitation at all; he simply smiles lazily, reaches down with deft fingers, and wordlessly asks, “Wanna do something fun now?” with his hips.
Miyao realizes that Johnnies do a lot of their talking with their hips.
~~~~~
Sometime later, when they’re both fuzzy-minded and languid and barely keeping their balance in the chair, Miyao finds himself experiencing a bit of a belated epiphany; he frowns and turns to the Tegoshi-puddle currently sitting on top of him, all warm and content despite the idol’s thighs still-somehow- screaming for more, more, more in their tight clamp around Miyao’s legs. “So the three of you were trying to seduce me the entire time over the last few weeks?” he mutters, half incredulous, half asleep.
Tegoshi nods simply, looking at his costar in an entirely indulgent manner as he stretches and shifts in his lap. “Yup! The three of us were afraid you wouldn’t get it though, because it was your first time working on something like this! But Miyao-kun’s training as a dancer definitely put him ahead of the rest of the curve ne.” Bright-eyed and delighted, Tegoshi reaches out and musses Miyao’s hair gently. “Uchi and Kame will be happy to hear about this when I let them know ne,” the NEWS member adds sweetly, warmly, and Miyao suddenly feels his heart speed up and his mind say, Oh no, all over again, except that this time, as both of his hands automatically reach up to rest on the curve of Tegoshi’s waist, an entirely southerly part of him also simultaneously begs, “Yes, yes, yes,” again too, without his permission.
“Uh,” is all Miyao actually says out loud.
Tegoshi just smiles airily, like he perfectly understands everything his costar is thinking anyway, and from there, the artful writhing he does in Miyao’s lap and the calculated movement of every inch of tight muscle and white skin under Miyao’s hands all simply serves to declare, “Welcome to a Johnny’s drama; you’ve got so much to learn.”
Everything those thighs tell him after that is absolutely filthy, and as the grasp of his fingers becomes hard enough to bruise a few moments later, Miyao thinks-not for the first time- that all of his masters in France were absolutely right; body language says so many things that words simply can’t.
As for the Johnnies, they definitely have a distinct way of using it that is entirely their own.
Miyao imagines that at this rate, he’ll get it eventually.
END
EDITS? SO SLEEPY.
Universe: JE/ NewS/KAT-TUN
Theme/Topic: Tegoshi without Massu
Rating: PG-15
Character/Pairing/s: Yamanade Cast (JohnniesxMiyao, but mostly MiyaoxTegoshi)
Warnings/Spoilers: Stupidity as per usual and bad characterization of Miyao probably (IT WOULD BE BETTER IF THEY STOPPED GLOSSING OVER HIM IN THE INTERVIEWS.)
Word Count: 2,430
Summary: Miyao studies the Johnnies.
Dedication: myxstorie’s request on my request meme, kind of! Last one! Unless someone wants to take the last spot I guess? LOL
A/N: This sort of has Tegoshi pairing stuffs in it? IDK I am incoherent. SLEEPY TIMES NOW.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
Despite being incredibly new and ignorant to the complex nuances that exist within the world of dramas and idols and filming and promotional press tours, Miyao Shuntaro likes to believe that through his rigorous training as a professional dancer, he has since learned how to interpret what is expected of him in any situation- and from there, discern how to best respond- simply by paying special attention to the specific cues he observes in other people’s body language.
During his studies in France, every single one of his ballet masters always stressed the fact that he was learning how to communicate with his actions rather than his words, with the movement of his arms and legs in lieu of the movements of his mouth.
“As dancers, we express ourselves through our bodies,” one master had told him flatly, as Miyao had struggled to understand his teacher with his rudimentary grasp of the language. “It is about being able to hold a dialogue between yourself and your audience that does not use, no, that does not require verbal communication.”
At the time, Miyao had understood the words that were being said, but not their underlying meaning. Frustrated at his inability to comprehend, he applied himself to his craft with a fervor that eventually managed to transcend the language barriers as, with the passing of each day, he discovered instead, what it meant to truly communicate with his body.
Upon his return to Japan many years later, he has discovered that this aspect of dance does not simply apply to his performances, but to life in general.
Body language, to Miyao, says so many more things than words ever can.
And right now, he is fairly certain his costars are trying to tell him something.
“Miyao-kun,” Kamenashi says one day, when the two of them are eating together, Seishiro-kun long gone to school and Aya-chan and the others in makeup and wardrobe, preparing for their next scenes, “it’s hard to believe this is really your first drama.” His words are harmless and careful and complimentary, but at the same time, Miyao notices the bent of his head, the shy look of interest in his eyes, the way his shoulders angle in, bringing them closer together despite the dressing room table being between them.
Kamenashi’s words are kind and his tone is even and calm, but to Miyao, Kamenashi’s body is saying something else entirely. “You’re very natural,” Kamenashi finishes after a beat, long bangs falling into his eyes for a moment.
Miyao blinks. “Thank you,” he says, and wonders if Kamenashi knows what he’s doing; perhaps this is another one of those Johnny-idol eccentricities that his manager had warned him about when they’d first signed for the job; that day Miyao’s manager said, quite plainly, “Johnnies are a little bit different from normal people.”
Miyao is beginning to learn that this is very true, and as such, attempts to go over his thoughts on the matter rationally.
Johnnies are trained in entirely different forms of communication than dancers like Miyao are; he begins to think that perhaps the seduction their bodies are paid to suggest on stage and on camera have become unconscious actions to them at this point, the years of practice making the art of attraction as natural to each of them as balancing on his toes has become to Miyao.
Right now Kamenashi’s body seems to be screaming, “I want you,” at Miyao, and Miyao isn’t sure if it’s just what Johnnies’ bodies are supposed to be screaming at people at all hours of the day or if it is something Kamenashi is genuinely trying to tell him right now.
In the meantime, Kamenashi simply continues to eat like nothing is the matter, brushing his hair out of his face every few minutes with the natural, easy grace of a hooker getting onto her knees.
Miyao, feeling slightly warm, supposes he still has a lot to learn about working with idols on dramas, and silently finishes his bento as quickly as is polite.
~~~~~
A week later, Uchi-kun crosses his arms, cants his hips just a little bit sideways, and examines Miyao’s wardrobe critically before the group is scheduled to make an appearance on a morning talk show. “Hmmm,” Uchi murmurs, lips pursed and slightly parted, fingers absently playing with one of the ends of the cravat he is wearing with an intense, anticipatory energy.
Miyao blinks; while he is fairly certain he’d heard Uchi say, “Hmmm,” just now, he also actually thinks Uchi had meant, “Mmmm,” instead, because it is what his fingers are saying, what his lips and eyebrows and hips are saying.
“Turn around,” Uchi instructs calmly, after a beat.
Miyao spins, with an easy, automatic grace, and Uchi’s fingers tighten just a little bit, on the ends of the cloth tied primly around his throat. “Those trousers don’t suit the length of your legs quite right,” Uchi gauges then, voice even, thoughtful, even professional to the point of almost seeming nonchalant. “You need to change pants.”
But at the same time, the way Uchi’s right hand tightens against his left bicep and the way his fingers finally come to a decisive, eerie stillness around his cravat seem to shout in shrill, rhythmic gasps, “You need to get out of your pants,” at Miyao instead.
A moment.
Then, “I see,” Miyao responds eventually, before he spins on his heel-sharply, perfectly-and marches back down to wardrobe in order to ask for a different pair of pants.
It’s no wonder, he thinks, as he retreats from Uchi’s pursed-lip gaze and feels slightly flushed, that the Johnnies are so popular with the girls here.
He swallows, starts to loosen his own ascot just a little, and wonders if he should tell them about the filthy things they are projecting out into the world with those lewd, graceful bodies of theirs, perhaps without meaning to, perhaps purely on instinct.
“The training Johnnies undergo must be as rigorous as my time in France,” he admits to his manager later, on the way home. “They’re very good at what they do.”
His manager gives him an odd look from behind the steering wheel. “Have you ever actually seen a J&A group perform live before?” he asks, in disbelief.
Inexplicably, Miyao finds himself thinking about the elegant, natural movement of Uchi’s fingers when he hears those words, the soft, seductive fall of Kame’s hair, and most of all, the hypnotic back-and-forth swaying of their hips when they walk.
If their bodies speak with things like this when they aren’t even conscious of it, Miyao is dead certain he doesn’t want to have to look at them when they are trying.
“No thanks,” is all he says to his manager, and after getting another odd look, they finish the drive back in thoughtful silence.
~~~~~
Miyao continues spending those initial weeks of filming studying his costars with a strange, inexplicable fascination; after some time he decides that perhaps Tegoshi is the only one not unconsciously broadcasting an intense desire for spontaneous fornication all of the time, as the youngest Johnny bounces happily around with Seishiro and a soccer ball, or thoughtfully writes his papers for school, or loudly and energetically composes songs on his guitar during their down time.
The inconsistency of Miyao’s findings is both perplexing and kind of comforting all at once; Miyao thinks that there would be real trouble in this world if, through the course of their training, all Johnnies did indeed become unconsciously wired for pornography day in and day out.
Miyao watches Tegoshi right now and feels himself smile a little at the image the youngest Johnny presents, when he stretches and yawns out of his chair as he’s called to standby on the second floor set. “Right!” he chirps to the assistant AD, nodding agreeably and readily following the staffer with good energy despite having to wait for the last several hours for his much delayed call.
As Tegoshi passes the mirror along the wall on his way out of the room he stops for a moment when he catches Miyao watching him intently from behind; oddly embarrassed at having been caught in such a manner, Miyao blinks and tries to look like he’d been spacing out just now instead.
But Tegoshi doesn’t buy it; he becomes thoughtful for a moment before he seems to get it, entirely too quickly for Miyao’s liking. Miyao can tell the exact moment it happens because he sees Tegoshi’s grin broaden through the mirror in that instant, in a certain way that inexplicably speeds up Miyao’s heart rate and makes him think, Oh no, all at the same time.
It is, Miyao realizes, a lot like someone unexpectedly flipping a switch from off to on. Perhaps the same kind of on that had prompted Uchi’s fingers to run seductively along his cravat before, or that had made Kamenashi’s hair fall into his eyes, or that had made all of their strides noticeably side-to-side and hip-to-hip even when the cameras weren’t pointed at them.
It is a switch that makes him think that maybe-just perhaps-his assumptions had been entirely wrong all this time; it seems like the seduction might be entirely conscious after all.
“I’ll be back in a bit!” Tegoshi singsongs sweetly then, eyes bright with epiphany as he turns and disappears down the hallway, making Miyao swallow when he sees the easy set of Tegoshi’s shoulders and the way his neck arches gracefully when he tilts his head a little, to look at Miyao from the corner of his eye on his way out.
Everything about Tegoshi’s body in that moment screams a breathy, promising, “Wait for me.”
Helpless, Miyao finds himself slowly sitting down in a nearby chair and doing exactly as he’s told.
~~~~~
“Ne, you’ve been watching us a lot lately right?” Tegoshi says some time later, when Uchi and Kamenashi are off to film a sequence at the coffee shop set. The spark of interest in Tegoshi’s eyes, the way he creeps forward into Miyao’s personal space is all in agreement with his words. “You’ve been eyeing us when you think we haven’t been watching but we have,” it teases loudly, even though Tegoshi’s voice is barely a whisper in the large backstage waiting area.
Miyao coughs, feeling oddly vulnerable in front of those enormous, amused eyes, despite being the oldest, the biggest, the strongest of them all. “I was just curious,” he begins, uncrossing his legs on the chair he’s sitting on, straightening his shoulders, squaring his chin. His body language is businesslike and impartial this way, so that when he asks, “Do Johnnies always move like sex?” it will be out of professional curiosity, out of fascination for the craft from dancer to dancer and nothing else.
But Tegoshi is willfully construing his actions in an entirely contrary manner despite Miyao’s best efforts to be clear and decisive with them, and none of the young idol’s interpretation seems to be very businesslike or professional or impartial at all. Apparently he thinks that Miyao uncrossing his legs is an invitation to sit on them, that the straightening of Miyao’s shoulders is a sign to rest his hands on them, that the squaring of Miyao’s jaw is a request for him to nuzzle his throat.
Under this assault, he doesn’t get to fully ask his question after all; he only manages to get out, a half-coherent “Do all Johnnies always move like unnngh…” instead.
But it’s fine, Tegoshi actions have already unwittingly answered him anyway, because looking down at the pliant, inviting idol in his lap tells Miyao that they only move like sex when they’re thinking about it, but it just so happens that they think about it a lot.
This discovery is capped off with an additional exclamation point (or two or three) of approval, all that punctuation coming fervently (and suddenly) from the vicinity of Miyao’s pants.
To his combined horror and relief, it is a body language signal that Tegoshi receives without any sort of confusion or hesitation at all; he simply smiles lazily, reaches down with deft fingers, and wordlessly asks, “Wanna do something fun now?” with his hips.
Miyao realizes that Johnnies do a lot of their talking with their hips.
~~~~~
Sometime later, when they’re both fuzzy-minded and languid and barely keeping their balance in the chair, Miyao finds himself experiencing a bit of a belated epiphany; he frowns and turns to the Tegoshi-puddle currently sitting on top of him, all warm and content despite the idol’s thighs still-somehow- screaming for more, more, more in their tight clamp around Miyao’s legs. “So the three of you were trying to seduce me the entire time over the last few weeks?” he mutters, half incredulous, half asleep.
Tegoshi nods simply, looking at his costar in an entirely indulgent manner as he stretches and shifts in his lap. “Yup! The three of us were afraid you wouldn’t get it though, because it was your first time working on something like this! But Miyao-kun’s training as a dancer definitely put him ahead of the rest of the curve ne.” Bright-eyed and delighted, Tegoshi reaches out and musses Miyao’s hair gently. “Uchi and Kame will be happy to hear about this when I let them know ne,” the NEWS member adds sweetly, warmly, and Miyao suddenly feels his heart speed up and his mind say, Oh no, all over again, except that this time, as both of his hands automatically reach up to rest on the curve of Tegoshi’s waist, an entirely southerly part of him also simultaneously begs, “Yes, yes, yes,” again too, without his permission.
“Uh,” is all Miyao actually says out loud.
Tegoshi just smiles airily, like he perfectly understands everything his costar is thinking anyway, and from there, the artful writhing he does in Miyao’s lap and the calculated movement of every inch of tight muscle and white skin under Miyao’s hands all simply serves to declare, “Welcome to a Johnny’s drama; you’ve got so much to learn.”
Everything those thighs tell him after that is absolutely filthy, and as the grasp of his fingers becomes hard enough to bruise a few moments later, Miyao thinks-not for the first time- that all of his masters in France were absolutely right; body language says so many things that words simply can’t.
As for the Johnnies, they definitely have a distinct way of using it that is entirely their own.
Miyao imagines that at this rate, he’ll get it eventually.
END
EDITS? SO SLEEPY.