[One-shot] To Paradise
To Paradise
MA/THEY - Yara/Yamamoto
2100 words, NC-17, Club AU, but basically PWP
Yara won’t deny it, Yamamoto’s definitely one of the favorites.
So this is one of those OMG wry fics, but all the pictures coming out for PZ12, for the club scene and ALL THE EROTICS? idek. pictures here and report here. Written for yararanger, as congratulations for getting a First ♥♥♥♥♥ All the hearts for you, darling! :D Thank you to kuro_chin for being a cheerleader ;o;
The night pulses inside Club Euphoria, a strange combination of light and shadow, color and sound. Yara watches it all, satisfied. It’s Friday, his favorite night. Regular and newcomer alike have spilled into the club, with dance beat and drink to meet them. And Yara’s in the thick of it all.
Even though he owns Euphoria and has his own VIP room that overlooks the main floor, Yara can often be found behind the bar when he’s not dancing, especially this early on a Friday nights, just serving drinks and meeting people. You’re not a regular until you’ve met him, and Yara likes it best that way. There’s a sort of intimacy about it, one that has nothing to do with exclusivity. He likes being able to put names to faces, identities to dancing figures.
The night is in full-swing when Yamamoto drops into a stool directly in front of Yara. Matsuzaki and Koshioka, his usual bartenders, exchange knowing glances before both shifting away. There are the regulars and then there are Yara’s favorites, and all the staff know who they are.
As it happens to be, and Yara won’t deny it, Yamamoto’s definitely one of the favorites.
“Yaracchi~!” he chirps, as if on cue, and his smile is so contagious that even though Yara was already in a good mood, he can’t help but lean onto his elbows and grin back. Yamamoto’s been around for a while and Yara will always remember how they met, as he’d carded Yamamoto for a beer (“Hey, I’m totally twenty!”) and found himself charmed by the other’s rather aimless enthusiasm.
“What’ll it be, Ryo-chan?”
Yamamoto cocks his head to the side, considering carefully. While Yamamoto’s outfit of black shirt, black jeans, black-and-white jersey, and black boots is much, well, calmer than his usual attire, there’s enough flashing on him that it still has the proper Yamamoto flair. Yara can tell he’s already had a few drinks because his eyes gleam and he leans forward conspiratorially.
“Sex on the beach?”
Yara laughs, even as he reaches over to shove at Yamamoto’s shoulder, which Yamamoto takes and grins with all the more impudence for it.
“You sure about that?” Yara asks, leaning back on his elbows to share a conspiratorial look.
They’re suddenly so close that they almost bump noses and Yara stares into the dark depths of Yamamoto’s eyes. “Definitely.”
It’s almost a disappointment when he pulls back, but he’s behind the bar and a drink has been ordered. Yamamoto fidgets in his seat as he waits and then practically dives on the red, fruity drink that Yara slides his way. Yara ignores the way Yamamoto’s tongue flicks over the rim of the glass before he takes a sip because they both know it’s on purpose.
It might look odd to anyone looking on, the way they’d watch each other without saying anything. Yamamoto’s excuse is his mouth is full, which is also Yara’s. It’s not like they need to talk though, as they both let the thrum of the crowd wash over them. Sato - more affectionately known as Akkun - is at the tables, doing his thing. He, like the rest of Yara’s staff, is more than excellent at what he does - building and buoying the crowd’s mood, and looking like a fucking rockstar.
Eventually Yamamoto empties the drink and pushes away from the bar, giving Yara a wave and a jaunty smile before turning and vanishing in the crowd.
Yara sweeps the glass off the bar, without much care. Yamamoto always pays for his drinks when he remembers to, but he is also a favorite and Yara can’t be damned to really care if a couple dozen drinks are on the house, if only because Yamamoto’s got such a cute dimple when he’s happy (and Yamamoto’s memory is horrible).
He watches as Yamamoto joins the pressing crowd on the dance floor. He’s always easy to spot, really. It’s something else Yara appreciates about the other - his obvious passion for dance. It doesn’t matter how many or how few were on the floor, Yamamoto will dance his heart out. It’s so easy to follow him as he slides and spins and spirits his way through the crowd.
“It’s a good night,” Koshioka says, coming back over with a toothy grin.
“It is,” Yara agrees, serving up another drink. He stays for a few more minutes, eyes lingering on the dance floor every now and then.
Sato is calling out to the crowd, gesticulating wildly. It’s one of his things, handing off DJ-ing to someone else for a few minutes. Always with mixed results, but it’s something everyone enjoys regardless. Yara’s just surprised when Yamamoto’s the one who clambers up out of the crowd to join Sato.
Yara finds that Yamamoto DJs like he dances or does anything else in life, with an enthusiasm that is both reckless and completely charming. He fumbles, but it doesn’t deter him and the crowd cheers and dances for him anyway.
When Yamamoto glances up from the turntables, he looks directly at Yara, and as their eyes meet, Yamamoto’s lips curve into singularly perfect smile, one that warms through Yara completely.
Absentmindedly turning the bar back over to Matsuzaki and Koshioka, Yara swings himself over the top and settles on his feet. He ghosts along the edge of the crowd, a part of him wanting to join in, but he sticks to the shadowy walls, soon ending up in a corner at the back of the club, near a door.
Yamamoto messes around for a few more minutes before Sato nudges him away, and then he’s laughing and pinwheeling into the dance floor. He vanishes from sight, but Yara doesn’t mind much, contented to wait.
After a few minutes, someone’s pressing up against his side, affectionately pressing a kiss to Yara’s cheek before a softly murmuring “Hi~.”
Yara’s grin is wolfish and sharper than Yamamoto’s as he unlocks the door, tugging Yamamoto into a darkened hallway that would lead them to Yara’s apartment, situated above Euphoria itself. The door had just managed to swing shut when Yara backs Yamamoto up against the wall, capturing Yamamoto’s lips in a kiss that he’s wanted the moment Yamamoto had appeared at the bar.
It’s easy to taste the alcohol when Yara works his tongue into Yamamoto’s mouth, loving the way Yamamoto eagerly responds to the kiss. He presses closer, grinding their hips together, feeling Yamamoto harden against his hip.
“Tease,” Yara says, playfully biting at Yamamoto’s lower lip and feeling a shudder run through him, before pulling back to take a look. Yamamoto looks rather different than he had moments before, now panting and needy, with cheeks flushed, up against the wall. Yara sees it as an improvement.
“I was being serious,” Yamamoto replies, tongue slowly running over his lip where Yara had bit him. “Sex on the beach, I’m free next weekend.”
Yara splutters for a moment, laughing even as he presses himself back against Yamamoto again, kissing his way along the other’s jaw. Yamamoto is endearingly exasperating, but Yara has other things on his mind, now that Yamamoto’s put all sorts of images in his head.
“I’ll see what I can do,” is all he manages before tugging Yamamoto down the hallway.
It‘s slow progress, if only because Yamamoto is handsy and Yara can’t help himself. At least they make it to the stairwell before Yamamoto’s pants are undone and Yara’s got him hard and heavy in the palm of his hand.
“Y-yaracchi,” Yamamoto breathes, eyes glossing over as he rocks his hips into the touch and Yara can’t help a smirk. He slides a hand down Yamamoto’s back to grab at his ass for a moment, and when his hand comes back, the condom that was in the other’s back pocket comes with it.
“Needy,” he teases.
“Predictable,” Yamamoto shoots back, which might have been more impressive if he wasn’t rutting so desperately into Yara’s hand.
Yara’s sorely tempted to just do it right there, but while there’s a certain appeal to sex and stairs, it’s not what he’d call comfortable.
“Up you go,” he says, stepping away and tugging Yamamoto up the stairs.
They stumble into his apartment, Yamamoto nearly over his pants and Yara contemplates the floor as well, but eventually they end up on his bed, Yara flat on his back with Yamamoto straddling his hips. They’ve lost all of their clothes and Yamamoto runs an appreciative hand up Yara’s chest, pausing to thumb at a nipple and practically purring when he gets Yara to groan.
“You really mean it about the beach?” he asks, leaning down to steal another kiss or two, and Yara’s mind is such a blissful haze that he’s ready to agree to anything, but still has enough presence of mind to simply repeat what he’d said before, “I’ll see what I can do.” It’s not like he isn’t interested in try now.
Yamamoto purrs again, shifting so he can follow his fingers with his tongue, and Yara just basks in the moment. But he’s not one for sitting idle, so he sits up, pulling Yamamoto properly into his lap, hissing softly as their cocks rub together, he’s so hard. Yamamoto lets out a soft moan, rocking rhythmically against him, and Yara’s self control begins to crack.
“C’mon, kitten,” he says, voice rough, while grabbing the lube from under the pillow. Yamamoto’s eager, shifting his legs so Yara can work slicked fingers between them. This part he might enjoy more than he should, but he can’t help it, when Yamamoto’s hips jerk this way and that, riding his fingers as he works him open. Two fingers, and then three, before Yamamoto stops himself, clutching at Yara’s shoulders.
“I want you, Tomo,” he whispers, and Yara’s so done with holding back.
“Turn over,” he rasps, pulling his fingers out of Yamamoto’s body, cleaning them with a tissue as Yamamoto slides off his lap, rolling over to settle on his hands and knees.
While Yara prefers any sort of position that allows him to watch Yamamoto’s face, he likes it this way. It’s hot, watching Yamamoto struggle to stay in control. Not of the situation or anything, but of himself, as Yara makes him fall apart, bit by bit.
He slides the condom down on his hard, aching cock, and shifts so he’s behind Yamamoto, running hands up and down the soft skin of Yamamoto’s sides and hips, just enjoying the sensation for a moment before he presses inside Yamamoto.
He can feel Yamamoto’s breath catch as he eases himself in, but then he realizes he’s not really breathing either, it’s so tight and hot and it’s a maddeningly pleasant feeling, Yamamoto clenched around him.
“Ryouta,” he groans, slowly thrusting into Yamamoto, fingers tightening where they’re curled around his hips, “Oh god, Ryouta.”
“It’s… it’s good,” Yamamoto laughs breathlessly, before he rocks his hips back against Yara. Yara doesn’t refuse him, thrusting faster, deeper, trying to find that spot within Yamamoto and taking almost vicious pleasure in watching as he scrabbles at the sheets. Yamamoto eventually drops to his elbows, burying his face between them. His moans were muffled at this point, but as long as Yara could hear them, he wasn’t going to mind.
Yamamoto feels so good, and Yara knows he isn’t going last much longer, heat and pleasure coiling inside of him. Yamamoto’s rocking in time with his thrusts, a hand worked between his legs so he can jerk himself off.
Eventually everything - Yamamoto’s cries of pleasure, the heat, the feel of Yamamoto tight around him, so good - became too much. Everything seemed to go white-hot with pleasure as Yara came, shallowly thrusting into Yamamoto as he worked himself through orgasm.
When his head had cleared, Yamamoto had climaxed as well, his hand sticky with come. But it was completely deliberate as Yamamoto slanted his eyes over his shoulder and brought his fingers up to lick them clean.
“I hate you,” Yara says, pulling out so he can half-tackle Yamamoto onto the bed. They fall into a tangled pile of sweaty limbs and it’s kind of sticky and gross, but Yamamoto’s laughing, half shrieking a ‘Yaracchi! at him, and Yara feels warm all over, with happiness this time.
“We’ll definitely have to try the beach,” he says, settling down so Yamamoto’s still pinned beneath him, deciding that he can have a ten minute break before deciding what to do. Yamamoto’s relaxed now, snuggling into his shoulder, and Yara can feel a smile curve against his skin.
“Thank you, Yaracchi~♥”
MA/THEY - Yara/Yamamoto
2100 words, NC-17, Club AU, but basically PWP
Yara won’t deny it, Yamamoto’s definitely one of the favorites.
So this is one of those OMG wry fics, but all the pictures coming out for PZ12, for the club scene and ALL THE EROTICS? idek. pictures here and report here. Written for yararanger, as congratulations for getting a First ♥♥♥♥♥ All the hearts for you, darling! :D Thank you to kuro_chin for being a cheerleader ;o;
The night pulses inside Club Euphoria, a strange combination of light and shadow, color and sound. Yara watches it all, satisfied. It’s Friday, his favorite night. Regular and newcomer alike have spilled into the club, with dance beat and drink to meet them. And Yara’s in the thick of it all.
Even though he owns Euphoria and has his own VIP room that overlooks the main floor, Yara can often be found behind the bar when he’s not dancing, especially this early on a Friday nights, just serving drinks and meeting people. You’re not a regular until you’ve met him, and Yara likes it best that way. There’s a sort of intimacy about it, one that has nothing to do with exclusivity. He likes being able to put names to faces, identities to dancing figures.
The night is in full-swing when Yamamoto drops into a stool directly in front of Yara. Matsuzaki and Koshioka, his usual bartenders, exchange knowing glances before both shifting away. There are the regulars and then there are Yara’s favorites, and all the staff know who they are.
As it happens to be, and Yara won’t deny it, Yamamoto’s definitely one of the favorites.
“Yaracchi~!” he chirps, as if on cue, and his smile is so contagious that even though Yara was already in a good mood, he can’t help but lean onto his elbows and grin back. Yamamoto’s been around for a while and Yara will always remember how they met, as he’d carded Yamamoto for a beer (“Hey, I’m totally twenty!”) and found himself charmed by the other’s rather aimless enthusiasm.
“What’ll it be, Ryo-chan?”
Yamamoto cocks his head to the side, considering carefully. While Yamamoto’s outfit of black shirt, black jeans, black-and-white jersey, and black boots is much, well, calmer than his usual attire, there’s enough flashing on him that it still has the proper Yamamoto flair. Yara can tell he’s already had a few drinks because his eyes gleam and he leans forward conspiratorially.
“Sex on the beach?”
Yara laughs, even as he reaches over to shove at Yamamoto’s shoulder, which Yamamoto takes and grins with all the more impudence for it.
“You sure about that?” Yara asks, leaning back on his elbows to share a conspiratorial look.
They’re suddenly so close that they almost bump noses and Yara stares into the dark depths of Yamamoto’s eyes. “Definitely.”
It’s almost a disappointment when he pulls back, but he’s behind the bar and a drink has been ordered. Yamamoto fidgets in his seat as he waits and then practically dives on the red, fruity drink that Yara slides his way. Yara ignores the way Yamamoto’s tongue flicks over the rim of the glass before he takes a sip because they both know it’s on purpose.
It might look odd to anyone looking on, the way they’d watch each other without saying anything. Yamamoto’s excuse is his mouth is full, which is also Yara’s. It’s not like they need to talk though, as they both let the thrum of the crowd wash over them. Sato - more affectionately known as Akkun - is at the tables, doing his thing. He, like the rest of Yara’s staff, is more than excellent at what he does - building and buoying the crowd’s mood, and looking like a fucking rockstar.
Eventually Yamamoto empties the drink and pushes away from the bar, giving Yara a wave and a jaunty smile before turning and vanishing in the crowd.
Yara sweeps the glass off the bar, without much care. Yamamoto always pays for his drinks when he remembers to, but he is also a favorite and Yara can’t be damned to really care if a couple dozen drinks are on the house, if only because Yamamoto’s got such a cute dimple when he’s happy (and Yamamoto’s memory is horrible).
He watches as Yamamoto joins the pressing crowd on the dance floor. He’s always easy to spot, really. It’s something else Yara appreciates about the other - his obvious passion for dance. It doesn’t matter how many or how few were on the floor, Yamamoto will dance his heart out. It’s so easy to follow him as he slides and spins and spirits his way through the crowd.
“It’s a good night,” Koshioka says, coming back over with a toothy grin.
“It is,” Yara agrees, serving up another drink. He stays for a few more minutes, eyes lingering on the dance floor every now and then.
Sato is calling out to the crowd, gesticulating wildly. It’s one of his things, handing off DJ-ing to someone else for a few minutes. Always with mixed results, but it’s something everyone enjoys regardless. Yara’s just surprised when Yamamoto’s the one who clambers up out of the crowd to join Sato.
Yara finds that Yamamoto DJs like he dances or does anything else in life, with an enthusiasm that is both reckless and completely charming. He fumbles, but it doesn’t deter him and the crowd cheers and dances for him anyway.
When Yamamoto glances up from the turntables, he looks directly at Yara, and as their eyes meet, Yamamoto’s lips curve into singularly perfect smile, one that warms through Yara completely.
Absentmindedly turning the bar back over to Matsuzaki and Koshioka, Yara swings himself over the top and settles on his feet. He ghosts along the edge of the crowd, a part of him wanting to join in, but he sticks to the shadowy walls, soon ending up in a corner at the back of the club, near a door.
Yamamoto messes around for a few more minutes before Sato nudges him away, and then he’s laughing and pinwheeling into the dance floor. He vanishes from sight, but Yara doesn’t mind much, contented to wait.
After a few minutes, someone’s pressing up against his side, affectionately pressing a kiss to Yara’s cheek before a softly murmuring “Hi~.”
Yara’s grin is wolfish and sharper than Yamamoto’s as he unlocks the door, tugging Yamamoto into a darkened hallway that would lead them to Yara’s apartment, situated above Euphoria itself. The door had just managed to swing shut when Yara backs Yamamoto up against the wall, capturing Yamamoto’s lips in a kiss that he’s wanted the moment Yamamoto had appeared at the bar.
It’s easy to taste the alcohol when Yara works his tongue into Yamamoto’s mouth, loving the way Yamamoto eagerly responds to the kiss. He presses closer, grinding their hips together, feeling Yamamoto harden against his hip.
“Tease,” Yara says, playfully biting at Yamamoto’s lower lip and feeling a shudder run through him, before pulling back to take a look. Yamamoto looks rather different than he had moments before, now panting and needy, with cheeks flushed, up against the wall. Yara sees it as an improvement.
“I was being serious,” Yamamoto replies, tongue slowly running over his lip where Yara had bit him. “Sex on the beach, I’m free next weekend.”
Yara splutters for a moment, laughing even as he presses himself back against Yamamoto again, kissing his way along the other’s jaw. Yamamoto is endearingly exasperating, but Yara has other things on his mind, now that Yamamoto’s put all sorts of images in his head.
“I’ll see what I can do,” is all he manages before tugging Yamamoto down the hallway.
It‘s slow progress, if only because Yamamoto is handsy and Yara can’t help himself. At least they make it to the stairwell before Yamamoto’s pants are undone and Yara’s got him hard and heavy in the palm of his hand.
“Y-yaracchi,” Yamamoto breathes, eyes glossing over as he rocks his hips into the touch and Yara can’t help a smirk. He slides a hand down Yamamoto’s back to grab at his ass for a moment, and when his hand comes back, the condom that was in the other’s back pocket comes with it.
“Needy,” he teases.
“Predictable,” Yamamoto shoots back, which might have been more impressive if he wasn’t rutting so desperately into Yara’s hand.
Yara’s sorely tempted to just do it right there, but while there’s a certain appeal to sex and stairs, it’s not what he’d call comfortable.
“Up you go,” he says, stepping away and tugging Yamamoto up the stairs.
They stumble into his apartment, Yamamoto nearly over his pants and Yara contemplates the floor as well, but eventually they end up on his bed, Yara flat on his back with Yamamoto straddling his hips. They’ve lost all of their clothes and Yamamoto runs an appreciative hand up Yara’s chest, pausing to thumb at a nipple and practically purring when he gets Yara to groan.
“You really mean it about the beach?” he asks, leaning down to steal another kiss or two, and Yara’s mind is such a blissful haze that he’s ready to agree to anything, but still has enough presence of mind to simply repeat what he’d said before, “I’ll see what I can do.” It’s not like he isn’t interested in try now.
Yamamoto purrs again, shifting so he can follow his fingers with his tongue, and Yara just basks in the moment. But he’s not one for sitting idle, so he sits up, pulling Yamamoto properly into his lap, hissing softly as their cocks rub together, he’s so hard. Yamamoto lets out a soft moan, rocking rhythmically against him, and Yara’s self control begins to crack.
“C’mon, kitten,” he says, voice rough, while grabbing the lube from under the pillow. Yamamoto’s eager, shifting his legs so Yara can work slicked fingers between them. This part he might enjoy more than he should, but he can’t help it, when Yamamoto’s hips jerk this way and that, riding his fingers as he works him open. Two fingers, and then three, before Yamamoto stops himself, clutching at Yara’s shoulders.
“I want you, Tomo,” he whispers, and Yara’s so done with holding back.
“Turn over,” he rasps, pulling his fingers out of Yamamoto’s body, cleaning them with a tissue as Yamamoto slides off his lap, rolling over to settle on his hands and knees.
While Yara prefers any sort of position that allows him to watch Yamamoto’s face, he likes it this way. It’s hot, watching Yamamoto struggle to stay in control. Not of the situation or anything, but of himself, as Yara makes him fall apart, bit by bit.
He slides the condom down on his hard, aching cock, and shifts so he’s behind Yamamoto, running hands up and down the soft skin of Yamamoto’s sides and hips, just enjoying the sensation for a moment before he presses inside Yamamoto.
He can feel Yamamoto’s breath catch as he eases himself in, but then he realizes he’s not really breathing either, it’s so tight and hot and it’s a maddeningly pleasant feeling, Yamamoto clenched around him.
“Ryouta,” he groans, slowly thrusting into Yamamoto, fingers tightening where they’re curled around his hips, “Oh god, Ryouta.”
“It’s… it’s good,” Yamamoto laughs breathlessly, before he rocks his hips back against Yara. Yara doesn’t refuse him, thrusting faster, deeper, trying to find that spot within Yamamoto and taking almost vicious pleasure in watching as he scrabbles at the sheets. Yamamoto eventually drops to his elbows, burying his face between them. His moans were muffled at this point, but as long as Yara could hear them, he wasn’t going to mind.
Yamamoto feels so good, and Yara knows he isn’t going last much longer, heat and pleasure coiling inside of him. Yamamoto’s rocking in time with his thrusts, a hand worked between his legs so he can jerk himself off.
Eventually everything - Yamamoto’s cries of pleasure, the heat, the feel of Yamamoto tight around him, so good - became too much. Everything seemed to go white-hot with pleasure as Yara came, shallowly thrusting into Yamamoto as he worked himself through orgasm.
When his head had cleared, Yamamoto had climaxed as well, his hand sticky with come. But it was completely deliberate as Yamamoto slanted his eyes over his shoulder and brought his fingers up to lick them clean.
“I hate you,” Yara says, pulling out so he can half-tackle Yamamoto onto the bed. They fall into a tangled pile of sweaty limbs and it’s kind of sticky and gross, but Yamamoto’s laughing, half shrieking a ‘Yaracchi! at him, and Yara feels warm all over, with happiness this time.
“We’ll definitely have to try the beach,” he says, settling down so Yamamoto’s still pinned beneath him, deciding that he can have a ten minute break before deciding what to do. Yamamoto’s relaxed now, snuggling into his shoulder, and Yara can feel a smile curve against his skin.
“Thank you, Yaracchi~♥”