[One-shot] Mad Desires
Mad Desires
MA/THEY - Yara/Yamamoto
1370 words, NC-17, PWP
During Playzone 2011's rehearsals, Yara does Yamamoto on the Guys PLAYZONE set. ...yes.
Okay so long story, this was written because I was having hysterics about Fic2 and needed some escape on twitter. This... somehow happened (the first little chunk). :| And then people said I was cruel it for not finishing it after the first few paragraphs (because I have this disastrous habit of not writing real porn and just skipping around it these days) so I...decided that I'd try and finish it. Mind you, I have not written actual porn (outside of RP?) since May 2010 :| and writing fic-porn is REALLY HARD FOR SOME REASON, even though I used to write it all the time and have RPed it all the time for years. IDGI, but now you get this and fml, never writing full-out porn again.
For my t-list, especially yararanger ♥ and kuro_chin!
ALSO will point out that even I am not sure what sort of position Yamaryo's actually in, but have a visual reference of what the set looks like. All the poles. You cannot blame me. I'm sure Yara appreciates how bendy Yamaryo is.
"Hold still, this could hurt if you slip," Yara scolded, half amused as he slicked his fingers.
Yamamoto sent him a half-hearted scowl. Easy for Yara to say, he wasn't the one naked with his legs hooked in a very compromising position on one of their sets. Shivering, he tightened his grip on one of the bars, choosing to close his eyes as Yara teased him. There had been no resisting Yara's suggestion, but...
At the same time he didn't want to think about how Travis-san was going to be there later, showing them all the new choreography while Yara slid a hand between his spread thighs.
The metal of the bars had warmed against his skin, contrasting with the cool of Yara's lubed fingers. Hot and cold, hot and cold, Yara.
Yamamoto keeps his eyes closed, cheeks reddening as Yara's fingers circled and circled and circled, getting nowhere fast. "Come on, Yaracchi..." He shuddered, trying not to think about how anyone could walk back on set and find them, and that he couldn't hide anything in this position, hard and aching as he was already.
Yara pressed against him and he groaned, his body stretching in ways it shouldn't really have, but it was the kind of burn he liked. "Y-yara..."
Chuckling, Yara's fingers continued to circle and tease, but the sound rumbled through Yamamoto and he found himself thinking less and feeling more, wriggling against the bars as Yara pressed a kiss to his shoulder. It was all part of the game, Yara playing with him, working him up so high until there was nothing to do but fall, touching everywhere but where he needed, doing everything Yamamoto wanted and yet not doing anything he wanted at the same time.
They stayed like that for so long that Yamamoto groaned louder than intended as Yara slowly eased the first finger in. "Shh, kitten. C'mon,” Yara murmured, teeth scraping over Yamamoto’s collarbone and Yamamoto moaned brokenly.
The twist of his body, the position they were in, and everything else about this mad idea of Yara's had Yamamoto trembling, whimpering softly. His eyes were still closed and he let the dark envelope him as Yara invaded his other senses, every small movement chipping away at his control.
He'd gone mad, half-drunk on lust and need and god knew what else. Insane but it felt good now and he nudged his hips down in suggestion.
It was the signal Yara had been waiting for. Suddenly there were two fingers, stretching and scissoring. There was nothing slow or teasing this time, Yara letting out a low growl that had arousal burning though Yamamoto was he was worked open. He forced his eyes open again, gripping the bars in desperation as their eyes met, as he saw the darkened amusement mixing with need in Yara’s eyes. It was what he wanted to see, knowing that Yara wanted it too, wanted him so badly.
“Tomo…” he gasped, arching as Yara fucked him with his fingers, hips twisting and bucking in encouragement. He needed more, the more that Yara was going to deny him because that was how it worked, because Yara liked it when he was a wreck, falling apart at his touch.
Yara added the third finger, lips finally capturing Yamamoto’s in a kiss, swallowing the gasping moans as Yamamoto struggled to keep his grip. He was starting to get frustrated with how Yara refused to touch him, his cock hard against his stomach and Yara’s own pressed to his thigh. But Yara knew patience better and Yamamoto knew he’d keep on pumping those damned fingers until Yamamoto broke.
As if to prove a point, Yara gave a twist of his fingers, trying to go harder and deeper into Yamamoto, and it was almost enough for Yamamoto to come, but not enough.
It was enough to make him cave, however.
“God, Tomo, please,” he gasped out, almost frantic, head thrown back as he shuddered.
It had been just what Yara had wanted and Yamamoto felt Yara pull his fingers away, ducking behind him. Now out of sight, Yamamoto strained for the sounds of Yara undoing his zipper and the crinkle of the condom’s foil packet.
“Tell me this wasn’t a great idea,” Yara murmured in his ear, licking at the crest of Yamamoto’s ear as his hands smoothed down Yamamoto’s sides until he was gripping his hips. “You look so good right now, Ryouta. So good.”
He might have said more, but Yamamoto wasn’t sure because right then was when Yara began pressing into him, blunt and thick and oh, god…
Yara eased into him slowly, pausing for a breath (one-two-three-four), before easing back out (five-six-seven-eight). But Yamamoto wasn’t new to this game they played, knew that he was done warming up, and rocked his hips back in a sort of warning that wasn’t so much a warning as it was a plea for more.
“Kitten,” Yara groaned. And because Yara knew, because they both had their wants and needs tangled up together, more was what Yamamoto got, Yara’s hips snapping, thrusting into him before settling into a steady rhythm that undid Yamamoto completely.
It was tight, hot, perfect, Yara knowing just how to move to get Yamamoto to cry out, to writhe, and to unravel. How Yamamoto kept his grip on the metal bars was beyond him when everything was too hot, too much but not enough at all. He felt maddened, lust overriding all else, sparking through his system as he bit his lip, trying to speak and not moan brokenly.
“Fuck, fuck… Tomo… Tomo, please,” he whimpered.
And Yara relented, nosing into the crook of Yamamoto’s neck, biting down on the soft skin there as he finally, finally wrapped a hand around Yamamoto’s cock, fucking Yamamoto up into his touch, twisting and stroking.
It was all Yamamoto needed to fall to pieces, letting out a strangled groan as he came in Yara’s hand, shuddering as the man worked him through his orgasm, pressing kisses along his shoulders, murmuring filthy little nothings as Yamamoto came back down from his high.
His thighs trembled from the strain of their position and his arm muscles were protesting at the treatment, but Yara was quick with him, hands settling on his hips again as he worked himself to his own climax, cursing as he nipped at Yamamoto’s neck, not ever hard enough to mark - they had presence of mind enough for that - but enough for Yamamoto to feel, to know the meaning of all the same.
“Mine,” Yara whispered, thrusting into Yamamoto a few more times before he came with a shuddering sigh, hands gripping Yamamoto’s hips hard enough he wondered if he’d bruise.
There was a small pause, a little stretch of silence as they both took a breath, recovering a bit, before Yara carefully pulled out. Yamamoto let out a whine as the man helped him unhook his legs before they almost gave out from under him, also letting go of the bar above his head, the blood rushing back in a way that was slightly painful. Yara chuckled apologetically, arm wrapped tight around his waist in support.
“Sorry… I know that was a little too long.”
“It’s fine,” Ryouta murmured, still red-cheeked as he rubbed his hands to regain feeling, gratefully leaning against Yara’s solid warmth. “I... I liked it.”
The smile Yara gave him was warm, dark, and satisfied, but then he caught Yamamoto’s lips, kissing him until Yamamoto felt ready to go limp in his arms and never move again.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Yara said finally, pulling away as he pulled a packet of tissues from his pocket, helping Yamamoto clean up before taking care of the used condom and tucking himself back in his pants. Now in the right state of mind, Yamamoto was quick to scramble back into all his clothes, just barely managing to pull his shirt over his head before Yara backed him up against one of the poles, grinning as he kissed him again and again.
“Ryouta, I hope you know exactly what I’ll be thinking about every time we’re dancing on this thing. And that I might want to try that out again too…”
“Yaracchi!”
MA/THEY - Yara/Yamamoto
1370 words, NC-17, PWP
During Playzone 2011's rehearsals, Yara does Yamamoto on the Guys PLAYZONE set. ...yes.
Okay so long story, this was written because I was having hysterics about Fic2 and needed some escape on twitter. This... somehow happened (the first little chunk). :| And then people said I was cruel it for not finishing it after the first few paragraphs (because I have this disastrous habit of not writing real porn and just skipping around it these days) so I...decided that I'd try and finish it. Mind you, I have not written actual porn (outside of RP?) since May 2010 :| and writing fic-porn is REALLY HARD FOR SOME REASON, even though I used to write it all the time and have RPed it all the time for years. IDGI, but now you get this and fml, never writing full-out porn again.
For my t-list, especially yararanger ♥ and kuro_chin!
ALSO will point out that even I am not sure what sort of position Yamaryo's actually in, but have a visual reference of what the set looks like. All the poles. You cannot blame me. I'm sure Yara appreciates how bendy Yamaryo is.
"Hold still, this could hurt if you slip," Yara scolded, half amused as he slicked his fingers.
Yamamoto sent him a half-hearted scowl. Easy for Yara to say, he wasn't the one naked with his legs hooked in a very compromising position on one of their sets. Shivering, he tightened his grip on one of the bars, choosing to close his eyes as Yara teased him. There had been no resisting Yara's suggestion, but...
At the same time he didn't want to think about how Travis-san was going to be there later, showing them all the new choreography while Yara slid a hand between his spread thighs.
The metal of the bars had warmed against his skin, contrasting with the cool of Yara's lubed fingers. Hot and cold, hot and cold, Yara.
Yamamoto keeps his eyes closed, cheeks reddening as Yara's fingers circled and circled and circled, getting nowhere fast. "Come on, Yaracchi..." He shuddered, trying not to think about how anyone could walk back on set and find them, and that he couldn't hide anything in this position, hard and aching as he was already.
Yara pressed against him and he groaned, his body stretching in ways it shouldn't really have, but it was the kind of burn he liked. "Y-yara..."
Chuckling, Yara's fingers continued to circle and tease, but the sound rumbled through Yamamoto and he found himself thinking less and feeling more, wriggling against the bars as Yara pressed a kiss to his shoulder. It was all part of the game, Yara playing with him, working him up so high until there was nothing to do but fall, touching everywhere but where he needed, doing everything Yamamoto wanted and yet not doing anything he wanted at the same time.
They stayed like that for so long that Yamamoto groaned louder than intended as Yara slowly eased the first finger in. "Shh, kitten. C'mon,” Yara murmured, teeth scraping over Yamamoto’s collarbone and Yamamoto moaned brokenly.
The twist of his body, the position they were in, and everything else about this mad idea of Yara's had Yamamoto trembling, whimpering softly. His eyes were still closed and he let the dark envelope him as Yara invaded his other senses, every small movement chipping away at his control.
He'd gone mad, half-drunk on lust and need and god knew what else. Insane but it felt good now and he nudged his hips down in suggestion.
It was the signal Yara had been waiting for. Suddenly there were two fingers, stretching and scissoring. There was nothing slow or teasing this time, Yara letting out a low growl that had arousal burning though Yamamoto was he was worked open. He forced his eyes open again, gripping the bars in desperation as their eyes met, as he saw the darkened amusement mixing with need in Yara’s eyes. It was what he wanted to see, knowing that Yara wanted it too, wanted him so badly.
“Tomo…” he gasped, arching as Yara fucked him with his fingers, hips twisting and bucking in encouragement. He needed more, the more that Yara was going to deny him because that was how it worked, because Yara liked it when he was a wreck, falling apart at his touch.
Yara added the third finger, lips finally capturing Yamamoto’s in a kiss, swallowing the gasping moans as Yamamoto struggled to keep his grip. He was starting to get frustrated with how Yara refused to touch him, his cock hard against his stomach and Yara’s own pressed to his thigh. But Yara knew patience better and Yamamoto knew he’d keep on pumping those damned fingers until Yamamoto broke.
As if to prove a point, Yara gave a twist of his fingers, trying to go harder and deeper into Yamamoto, and it was almost enough for Yamamoto to come, but not enough.
It was enough to make him cave, however.
“God, Tomo, please,” he gasped out, almost frantic, head thrown back as he shuddered.
It had been just what Yara had wanted and Yamamoto felt Yara pull his fingers away, ducking behind him. Now out of sight, Yamamoto strained for the sounds of Yara undoing his zipper and the crinkle of the condom’s foil packet.
“Tell me this wasn’t a great idea,” Yara murmured in his ear, licking at the crest of Yamamoto’s ear as his hands smoothed down Yamamoto’s sides until he was gripping his hips. “You look so good right now, Ryouta. So good.”
He might have said more, but Yamamoto wasn’t sure because right then was when Yara began pressing into him, blunt and thick and oh, god…
Yara eased into him slowly, pausing for a breath (one-two-three-four), before easing back out (five-six-seven-eight). But Yamamoto wasn’t new to this game they played, knew that he was done warming up, and rocked his hips back in a sort of warning that wasn’t so much a warning as it was a plea for more.
“Kitten,” Yara groaned. And because Yara knew, because they both had their wants and needs tangled up together, more was what Yamamoto got, Yara’s hips snapping, thrusting into him before settling into a steady rhythm that undid Yamamoto completely.
It was tight, hot, perfect, Yara knowing just how to move to get Yamamoto to cry out, to writhe, and to unravel. How Yamamoto kept his grip on the metal bars was beyond him when everything was too hot, too much but not enough at all. He felt maddened, lust overriding all else, sparking through his system as he bit his lip, trying to speak and not moan brokenly.
“Fuck, fuck… Tomo… Tomo, please,” he whimpered.
And Yara relented, nosing into the crook of Yamamoto’s neck, biting down on the soft skin there as he finally, finally wrapped a hand around Yamamoto’s cock, fucking Yamamoto up into his touch, twisting and stroking.
It was all Yamamoto needed to fall to pieces, letting out a strangled groan as he came in Yara’s hand, shuddering as the man worked him through his orgasm, pressing kisses along his shoulders, murmuring filthy little nothings as Yamamoto came back down from his high.
His thighs trembled from the strain of their position and his arm muscles were protesting at the treatment, but Yara was quick with him, hands settling on his hips again as he worked himself to his own climax, cursing as he nipped at Yamamoto’s neck, not ever hard enough to mark - they had presence of mind enough for that - but enough for Yamamoto to feel, to know the meaning of all the same.
“Mine,” Yara whispered, thrusting into Yamamoto a few more times before he came with a shuddering sigh, hands gripping Yamamoto’s hips hard enough he wondered if he’d bruise.
There was a small pause, a little stretch of silence as they both took a breath, recovering a bit, before Yara carefully pulled out. Yamamoto let out a whine as the man helped him unhook his legs before they almost gave out from under him, also letting go of the bar above his head, the blood rushing back in a way that was slightly painful. Yara chuckled apologetically, arm wrapped tight around his waist in support.
“Sorry… I know that was a little too long.”
“It’s fine,” Ryouta murmured, still red-cheeked as he rubbed his hands to regain feeling, gratefully leaning against Yara’s solid warmth. “I... I liked it.”
The smile Yara gave him was warm, dark, and satisfied, but then he caught Yamamoto’s lips, kissing him until Yamamoto felt ready to go limp in his arms and never move again.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Yara said finally, pulling away as he pulled a packet of tissues from his pocket, helping Yamamoto clean up before taking care of the used condom and tucking himself back in his pants. Now in the right state of mind, Yamamoto was quick to scramble back into all his clothes, just barely managing to pull his shirt over his head before Yara backed him up against one of the poles, grinning as he kissed him again and again.
“Ryouta, I hope you know exactly what I’ll be thinking about every time we’re dancing on this thing. And that I might want to try that out again too…”
“Yaracchi!”