JE Fic Games
Title: The Stroking of Boys: What if Ohno really did have a threesome?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Aiba/Ohno/Sho
Summary: Aiba and Sho take Ohno’s mind off his scandal.
Prompt: Six-Senses - KAT-TUN
Warnings: Blowjobs, handjobs, a few swears.
Notes: Written for 2008/2009 je_ficgames. Yeah, so I might have gone way off the mark as far as my prompt went but this is where it took me. I thought, “What if Ohno really did have a threesome? What would that be like?” About 5,000 words.
Three years from now, Ohno will know what this nagging feeling in the back of his head was about. In thirty-six months, Ohno will understand that the tingling feeling is trying to tell him this is a bad idea. In one thousand, ninety-five days, Ohno will regret the night at the karaoke place in Shibuya with these two girls. But right now, he can only focus on the hand sliding up the inside of his thigh and he’s too turned on to give a damn.
___
None of them can stand to see Ohno sulking in the corner, cap pulled down low over his eyes instead of cocked at a stylish angle. He is trying to fold into himself, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, feet propped up against the coffee table where the source of his black mood lays open with his own stupid face looking back at him. All Ohno can do is glower at the magazine and shake his head; he should have known better. He sighs.
”Okay, enough of this shit,” Sho says, standing abruptly. “I can’t take it anymore. We’re taking him out. Who’s in?”
He looks around the table at the other three members: Jun has to be on set for a Hana Yori Dango feature filming early the next day and bows out gracefully. Nino mashes away at his DS, swearing under his breath, but pauses long enough to say he has a production meeting for Ryuusei no Kizuna that he can’t get out of; he’s already tried. Aiba looks across the room at Ohno and then back at Sho.
”I don’t have anything planned,” he says. “I’ll just mail mom and tell her I probably won’t be coming home tonight.”
”That would be wise,” Sho replies. He’s learned its best not to attach a deadline to one of their drinking parties: they consistently stay out all night and, more often that not, go straight to work the next day, much to the displeasure of their managers. Their only saving grace is that occasions which require all-night drinking binges are few and far between.
Nino stows his DS and grabs his bag. On his way past he squeezes Ohno’s hunched shoulder and whispers something that must be encouraging in his ear because Ohno nods, albeit grimly. Hang in there; it’ll blow over, you’ll see.
Ohno just wants to go home, avoid his mother, hide in his room and wallow. He is waiting for the signal that they are free to go but before he even takes his feet off the coffee table, Aiba and Sho flank and steer him through the door towards inebriation. They take him to a club where a friend of Sho’s is deejaying. It’s small, dark, and crowded. They are set up with a booth on the side with a view of the dance floor and bodies writhing to the bass. Sho hopes that the atmosphere will help Ohno forget the episode for the moment (and if all else fails, they’ll just get absolutely trashed).
They stay till the early morning and none of them can see straight. Aiba is starting to leer at people and Ohno has begun to sing to himself so Sho decides it’s time to retire for the night. He is a little bit disappointed. At one point in their careers, they were able to stay out all night drinking and dancing and show up to work with none the wiser and energy to spare. It is barely two and they are packing it in.
They head down the elevator and walk past the crowd still waiting to get behind the velvet rope and stand on the curb while a bouncer calls a cab for them. Ohno throws an arm over both Sho and Aiba’s shoulders and swings his feet off the pavement.
”I don’t want to go home!” he sings into the heavy midsummer air. “I’m not drunk yet.”
”I think you are,” Sho snickers. “I think you both are and you’re starting to hurt me.”
”Let’s go somewhere else!” Aiba replies, but does not offer a suggestion as to where “somewhere else” might be. Sho grins at his two friends leaning on each other, laughing at something that isn’t particularly funny at all. Well, he had wanted to take Ohno’s mind of things so he supposes he can call this night a success.
”Why don’t we go to my house?” Sho offers. “Dad’s on a business trip and mom took my brother and sister to Hakone for the weekend so the house is all mine. At least then, I don’t have to be embarrassed by you fools any more.”
Ohno stops suddenly, as if struck by a bolt of sobriety, and flings both arms around Sho’s neck and mumbles - more so than usual - into the skin just below his ear, “Thank you.”
Sho smiles fondly and pats the back of Ohno’s head, letting him cling as much as he likes until Aiba nearly falls off the sidewalk into the path of their taxi.
Sho gives the driver his address and they squish into the back seat. Ohno has the unfortunate middle seat and shifts uncomfortably as the seatbelt digs into his tailbone. Aiba’s long legs seem to take up most of the room and he nods off on Ohno’s shoulder for the duration of the trip, leaning his full body weight into the older man. Sho occupies Ohno’s other side, a solid and reassuring presence, bearing both Ohno’s and Aiba’s weight without complaint as the driver takes hairpin turns through the narrow residential streets of Roppongi.
They are spread out on the floor of Sho’s bedroom, empty cans of Asahi and Kirin creating a small mountain on the table in the middle of the room. Aiba flicks through Sho’s CD folder looking for something new, deciding on an M-Flo Loves compilation album. He settles the CD into the tray and rummages around for the remote lost under the cushions.
Ohno takes a sip from his third beer since arriving at Sho’s and slams the can down, splashing froth on his hand and the Formica table top.
”The least those assholes could have done is gotten the facts right,” he growls.
”Those assholes being...?” Sho questions, though he has a pretty fair idea of who Ohno is referring to.
”Those assholes at Shuukan Gendai.”
”What facts did they get wrong?” Aiba asks after significantly denting his fourth Asahi Dry. Sho contemplates kicking him under the table but Ohno continues unperturbed.
”But then again, if they had the right facts, there wouldn’t be any scandal.”
”What do you mean?” Aiba prods; this time Sho does kick him. “Ow! What? I’m just asking. It’s not like he doesn’t want to talk about it.”
Ohno scowls into the bottom of his empty can as spots of red bloom on his cheeks. Neither can tell if it’s from the alcohol or anger or something else. Aiba pulls three new cans from the mini fridge under Sho’s desk and passes them out.
”They were friends of a friend of mine and we did go to karaoke that night. They decided to hotbox the karaoke room. I stuck to my beer but you can’t help but be affected by that.”
”So, what about the threesome?” Aiba is well passed drunk and seems to have left his tact in his other pants. Sho reigns in the urge to smack him because he can’t lie, his interest is piqued.
”I was too fucked up,” he grinds out. “I couldn’t keep it up.”
”Ouch,” Sho winces.
The gravity of Ohno’s confession takes a few moments to sink in for Aiba. “So you didn’t... You didn’t get with two girls?”
”No,” Ohno admits, his flush deepening. “I wish it were true. Everyone thinks I’m some kind of pimp now. Nishikido gave me two thumbs up this morning as he passed me in the hallway.”
”Wow. Coming from him, that means a lot.”
They sit in silence, contemplating this new information. Ohno brings his palm to his cheek and wishes his face would stop flushing; he is certainly no Casanova, but he does alright with the ladies. This admission is definitely a blow to the ego.
”What was it like?” Aiba asks, staring absently at the striped pattern of Sho’s bedspread. They know Aiba is the most sexually adventurous of them all, but his quest for a threesome has remained elusive. Sho had his fair share of Junior’s sisters but always one at a time.
Sho fidgets with the ring tab of his beer. He knows his band mates intimately - they take notice of each other’s new underwear, after all - but he doesn’t think he feels comfortable knowing what goes on behind closed doors, in private. There are just some things better left unknown.
”It was... a lot,” Ohno explains vaguely. He is met with equally vague looks. “It was almost too much. They were all aggressive and focused on me and didn’t give me time to get used to anything. It felt weird - wrong.”
”Well, I would be weirded out too if there had been a camera involved,” Sho replies.
”No, it wasn’t that... It shouldn’t have been them.”
The words unsaid polarize the air. Sho stiffens, keenly aware despite his alcoholic haze of the impending; Aiba stills his hands that are playing with the shag carpet and searches Ohno’s face, his eyes strangely focused for being the drunkest of them all. Ohno crosses his legs and holds his can in both hands, staring at the condensation on the silver surface rather than the faces of his friends.
”If I were to have a threesome with anyone, it would be you two.”
”Why us?” Sho asks, a bit of little shock colouring his voice.
”It’s not like I’m asking, okay?” Ohno prefaces. “It would have to be you. Nino’s too jealous: he wouldn’t play well with others. And Jun’s too kinky for me: I don’t want to be bruised, just thoroughly fucked. With you, we’re equals. I trust you.”
Sho feels heat rise to his ears. He has never looked down this path before, let alone thought of walking it and the knowledge that one of his dearest friends would want to take it with him is... definitely terrifying, decidedly flattering, and a little bit exciting. Sho’s brow creases; he is trying to apply logic to his rollercoaster of emotions and make some kind of sense that operates in the real world where they are all straight boys who play with girls, despite the amount of times they find themselves cosplaying in skirts.
”It wouldn’t be so scary if it was you,” Ohno says quietly.
”I think I would like it,” Aiba admits.
”You would like anything that involves you getting off,” Sho retorts.
”You’re probably right,” he replies, grinning.
The smile slides from Aiba’s face and they sit looking at each other. Is this something you talk about beforehand? Or after? Do you ask for written formal consent from all persons involved before you begin? Should there be a plan of who does what to whom so that it’s fair and balanced? Ohno’s gaze flits around the room, hesitating on their faces and wondering where to go from here. Knowing that they don’t hate him and aren’t disgusted makes him want to try this just a little bit more. Sho is by far the most nervous. They can see that he is fighting with himself, fighting with his perceptions of who he is, what and who he should and shouldn’t do, and what it means if he just does what he feels.
Aiba is calm. He leans across the floor on hands and knees to press his lips to Ohno’s in a short but firm kiss before doing the same so Sho. He lingers on Sho’s lips for a beat, catching his eyes and says, “We’re just people: it doesn’t matter if we’re boys or girls. I’m me, you’re you, Leader’s Leader and this just is. Don’t try to think it through; just be.”
It doesn’t make complete sense - Aiba never really does, although this is the closest he’s ever come to it - but it’s enough. Sho closes his eyes and lets the walls fall down; he feels exposed and vulnerable even though he still has all his clothes on.
”You just have to say 'stop’,” Aiba says reassuringly before kissing Sho gently again.
Ohno watches the exchange with interest and decides this is how a threesome should feel. There is no nagging feeling at the back of his neck that he doesn’t quite understand this time; there’s no pressure, no expectations, no cameras. They aren’t doing this for anyone other than themselves and each other and any documentation will be done with their senses.
Sho lets Aiba kiss him, concentrating hard on the slight tug of their dry lips against each other and the pressure of Aiba’s hand on his knee. It’s just a kiss, lips are lips, but the sensations and knowledge that it’s Aiba-chan he’s kissing makes him slow and cautious. Aiba pulls away and pokes Sho between the eyebrows.
”Get out of there. You’ll miss everything,” he says.
Ohno leans back against the double bed and reaches a hand out to Aiba, beckoning the younger man to him. Sho is quietly relieved to be relegated to a spectator position and takes a long draught of his beer, nearly emptying the can. Aiba manoeuvres himself over Ohno’s legs, sitting himself in the eldest’s lap and plays with the hem of Ohno’s white t-shirt while Ohno brings their lips together. It’s paced and gentle, each seeing how much the other is willing to give or take.
Sho empties a fifth beer for good measure and Aiba has moved from Ohno’s lips to his neck and Sho thinks his hands must be doing something delightful under that t-shirt from the way Ohno’s head has fallen back onto the mattress and low, breathy sighs are coming from his mouth.
Sho pushes the table out of the way and takes up a position behind Aiba, none too steadily with the amount of alcohol he has just imbibed in such a short amount time but the other two don’t notice. He sweeps Aiba’s hair off his neck, revealing a wide expanse of skin untouched by the sun. He brings his face close, inhaling Aiba’s scent - it’s something like freshly cut grass and sunshine and the slight saltiness of sweat, he decides - and begins to place fleeting kisses from his pulse down across his shoulder. His right hand rests on Aiba’s hip for balance, his fingers slip under the yellow cotton and across the skin of his waist. Ohno’s hands smooth up the tops of Aiba’s thighs and he tangles his fingers with Sho’s.
Aiba’s exploration of Ohno’s neck yields positive results as the painter’s moans turn low and gravely under his attention. Aiba nips the papery skin just above his left collarbone and then laves the nick with his tongue, meriting a sharp jerk from the man beneath him. The sudden tug of his hands brings Sho flush against Aiba’s back with a muffled grunt.
Sho is a very aural person and it becomes very clear to both himself and Aiba (who he is pressed up against from neck to hip) that the sound of Ohno’s low aspirations and Aiba’s satisfied humming and his own altered breathing have gone straight to his cock.
”Sho-chan, switch with me,” Aiba says, turning his face towards Sho’s. The hands that have been mapping the terrain of Ohno’s chest and stomach and circumnavigating the waistband of his jeans and navel reappear from under Ohno’s shirt. Aiba extricates himself from Ohno’s lap and Sho takes his place slowly but not with hesitation.
Without Aiba, who is wetting his palate that is dry from all the exploratory kissing, the training wheels are off: he isn’t there to take them by the hand and show them what it is they want and how to get it. This time, Ohno leads. He reaches a hand around Sho’s waist, resting it in the curve of his lower back while keeping their fingers laced and reaches for his lips. While Aiba’s kiss had subtle sweetness to it - like chocolate or milk tea - Sho’s has spice like ginger or whiskey. Ohno wonders idly what his kiss tastes like.
Aiba leans an elbow on the table and watches his friends become increasingly more comfortable and bold. Sho’s free hand follows the same path his did across Ohno’s abdomen, rounding the curves of his hip, resting at the oasis of his bellybutton before climbing higher to his chest. An experimental tweak of Ohno’s right nipple - the more sensitive of the two - has him gasping into Sho’s mouth which smirks slightly at the discovery. Aiba is pleased to see that Sho has realized that kissing boys is very much like kissing girls and both will react in delicious ways if you touch them in the right places. The mechanisms of having a person panting in your ear, begging for you to stroke them there, yes, harder mm, faster--ah, shit--were identical. The stroking of boys came natural to all of them.
Ohno makes this same connection shortly thereafter and the hand on the hollow of Sho’s back strays down to the top of his jeans and further around to the front. He isn’t surprised to find Sho already hard against his palm and Sho shouldn’t be either since it was quite clear where Leader’s hand was headed but a breathy gasp falls from his lips anyway.
Aiba rejoins them and sneaks his hands up the back of Sho’s shirt, ever higher, until the fabric is bunched under Sho’s arms. Before Aiba murmurs “Lift,” into his skin, Sho is already removing the offending garment, dropping it somewhere off to his left. He flinches as Aiba applies the flat of his tongue to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, wet and cold with the slight fizzle of beer remaining and snaps further into Ohno’s open hand. Ohno chuckles quietly at the look on Sho’s face: he can’t decide whether to concentrate on playing with Ohno’s skin or focus on the feeling of Aiba’s tongue and fingers on his.
Ohno takes this opportunity to pop the button on Sho's Calvin Kleins and ease down the zipper. The rapper is too absorbed in the slide of Aiba's wet mouth over his shoulder blades and the fingers wiggling into the waistband of his jeans to care, but not so much that he doesn't notice one thing: "Why am I the only one getting undressed?"
At this, Ohno brings Sho's hand that is still wrapped up in his to join its twin at the hem of his own white shirt. "No one is stopping you," he says, voice gravely and deep.
Given carte blanche, Sho makes short work of the t-shirt and it joins his on the floor somewhere near their ankles. He leans back into warmth of Aiba’s chest; the soft yellow cotton caresses the smooth skin on Sho's back, a sharp contrast to the warm, slightly rough touch of lips and fingertips. Straddling Leader, who is still trying to divest Sho of his jeans, proves too much of an obstacle for undressing; they help each other stand and assist with buttons and zippers, each gesture and movement laden with trust. Ohno reaches for Aiba’s t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head from the back of the collar and dumps it behind him. It lands on the only light source - Sho’s bedside lamp - and the room is tinted with saffron and warmth that tans all their skins in an instant. Freckles and scars, birthmarks and moles stand out in sharp relief.
Jeans in three similarly different shades are puddled in the middle of the floor; five socks are strewn across the carpet and one has landed on the desk. They stand in their boxers and each pause to look at his comrades, band mates, friends. They pause to give any and all a chance to backpedal - they haven't gone too far yet. The weight of waiting for five breaths is heavier than the thought of what they are about to do entirely. Ohno stands between Aiba and Sho and takes one of their hands in each of his, a silent and solid act of appreciation and thanks. He steps back until his calves bump against the edge of the bed, pulling them down with him gracelessly onto the sheets. His capillaries are buzzing with undiluted excitement, cut with the thrill that underlies all first times. As he reaches for Sho's smooth cheek and guides him down for another kiss, Ohno can't help but grin: it was strange to be feeling virginal all over again (once was surely enough) but this isn't nearly as terrifying or awkward as it was back then.
Aiba navigates from Ohno's jaw to his waist, marking his journey with open-mouthed kisses and licks like breadcrumbs in case he should lose his way. He moves between Ohno's legs, his large hands splayed wide on his leader's thighs, supporting his weight there until he reaches the wings of Ohno's hips. Aiba slithers off the bed to kneel on the floor and marks the caramel skin under Ohno's navel with hot breath, watching the muscles under his stomach flutter and flex with minute tremors. Aiba's hands are close but not close enough; fingers hook into the waistband of Ohno's checkered boxers and still. Ohno whines into Sho's mouth and the hand not tangled in Sho's hair goes to cup the back of Aiba's head, nails tickling scalp as fingers curl with greed.
Sho's sense of balance is a delicate thing at the best of times but when Ohno moans into their kiss, any blood left in his head shoots straight to his cock and he can feel the world start to tilt. Sho wills his eyes open as Ohno's grasp loosens, hand falling from his hair down his spine, and Ohno arches off the mattress. What he sees is Aiba's lean frame draped over Ohno's glorious nudity, Aiba's fingers playing with the satin crease of thigh and torso as his full lips are wrapped around Ohno's hard cock.
"Oh, shit," Stimulated through illustration and animation, Ohno curses when he looks down between his legs. "Sho-chan, I can't-- at the same time... I can't watch--" Aiba's head bobs up and down in Ohno’s lap, he takes his time to traverse the length like he was out for a Sunday walk. Aiba breathes through his nose in carefully measured intervals; harsh breaths snag on Ohno's tongue when his head tips back, knocking slightly on the wall on the far side of the bed.
And some how Sho understands what Ohno means with his half-formed panting. Before turning towards Ohno's face and swinging a leg over his chest, he combs his fingers through Aiba's hair, brushing it out of his eyes briefly. No longer being able to see the slide of Aiba's lips along the underside of Ohno's dick or the glistening trail left by his tongue makes the wet obscenities ring even louder in Sho's ears.
With Sho straddling his chest, so close, Ohno is all too aware of how turned on the rapper is. It hardly seems fair that he's getting, arguably, the best blow job of his life while Sho strains against his underwear. He presses his fingers into the flesh of Sho's waist, exploring all the dips and divots of his stomach that Ohno’s only ever seen and catches Sho's gaze before gripping him through his boxers.
The friction rocks Sho, upending the delicate hold he had on his centre. He leans forward and plants his hands firmly on the mattress on either side of Ohno's head. Steadied on hands and knees, hair falling forward and tickling his cheeks, Sho bucks into Ohno’s hand. The eldest tugs Sho’s faded blue boxers down far enough to free his dripping cock; Ohno encases it with his long elegant fingers - yes, finally, Sho thinks with a choked moan - and his hand glides smoothly up and down, spreading the white beads across the head and down the shaft.
Aiba looks through his fringe at Sho bent over with elbows locked. His head is hanging, his chin tucked into his chest, his back expands with breath - and pauses - and falls quickly before repeating in a staccato rhythm. His toes are pointed and every muscle seems to be flexed; every part of his body is strung tight and a single, purposeful pluck will cause him to break. With one hand around the base of Ohno’s erection, working in tandem with his mouth, Aiba digs into his own shorts and grips himself and pumps fiercely. The sexual charge in the air is so thick that he knows it won’t take much.
Ohno studies Sho’s face and traces the expressions that flit across his features as he changes the pace or the tension in his fist: a lazy drag of fingertips and Sho’s mouth will make a delicate round shape. A tight grip with a twist and his brows will furrow in delicious pain. Fingers firm with pressure from the thumb under, up and over the top of the head to worry the slit and Sho’s voice breaks free and his eyes shut tight. Ohno’s hand is sticky and the skin under his palm is starting to pulse of its own volition.
Ohno sees Sho’s resolve start to slip, and he knows that he isn’t much far behind; a sharp groan is unleashed as Aiba abandons teasing licks and passes of his tongue to take as much of Ohno into his mouth as he can. Ohno’s rhythm deteriorates, all awareness trained on the slick mouth around his dick. He tosses his head from side to side, senseless babble dribbling from his mouth: “Ohmigod, I can’t. I can’t--Ah, Masaki--I’m. I’m gonna--”
Aiba knows it’s over when Ohno reaches for one of his hands and fumbles for his fingers. His grip is like a talon; he can only imagine what that’s doing to Sho. He can feel a surge and a twitch with his tongue and replaces his mouth with his hand as Ohno comes.
Aiba climbs onto Ohno’s hips and leans into Sho, bringing his hand around to join Leader’s. Together they grip him - Aiba making up for Ohno’s lack of coordination - and tug. Aiba’s breath is warm and moist between his shoulder blades; he can feel the jerking of Aiba’s hand on his own erection behind him. It’s too much - it’s been too much for too long - and Sho comes hard, his hips pistoning into the tunnel of fingers, his grunts sounding primal and raw.
Sho’s arms buckle, and he crumbles on top of Ohno, rolling slightly to the side to avoid putting his full body weight on the compact man beneath. His limbs feel like jelly, all he can hear is Ohno’s staggered breathing, his own panting and Aiba’s hand stroking himself to completion. His skin tingles and everything is blurry. He barely registers the warm spurts drizzling down the back of his thigh when Aiba finally comes with a muffled cry as he bites his lip. Aiba’s weight is on him for a second and then the heated body behind him is gone; the bed to his left dips and Aiba’s shallow huffs ring in his other ear.
They lay like that, the sheets rumpled and the room reeking of sex, Ohno flat on his back with Aiba to his left and Sho wedged in between, his right arm and leg still slung across Ohno’s stomach. They lie like that and do nothing but exist - no thinking, no wondering what things will be like tomorrow or the day after, no worrying about whether or not word would leak out to the media. They lie like that, skin still tingling at all points of contact, feeling warm and sated from the inside out.
”You’ve done that before,” Ohno mumbles in Aiba’s direction, not making any attempt at moving even though he knows he should.
”I’ve never had a threesome, you know that,” he replies.
”Not that, the...” he makes a vague circular motion around his crotch that no one sees.
”You never asked,” Aiba reasons. It’s true. “You never asked, and I never found the need to tell.”
”Oh,” Ohno responds intelligently.
They lie there in silence until Sho asks, “How do you feel now, Satoshi?”
”Sleepy,” is the first reply. They chuckle; it seems that Ohno has returned to former himself. “Good. I feel good.”
”Was it scary?” Aiba wonders from his left.
”Hmm... yes, but only at first. When you kissed me, I knew it would be alright.”
”Are you going to regret this?” Sho queries, anxiety thinly veiled in his voice.
”As long as this stays within these four walls, never.”
___
In three years, Ohno will remember that residual frisson on his skin and blush. In thirty-six months, Ohno will wonder and doubt if that those sensations could ever be recreated. In one thousand, ninety-five days, Ohno will not regret the night he spent with Sho and Aiba after news of his scandal broke, even when Aiba lets it slip when he gets so drunk he has a porcelain confessional with God. And even then, he’ll still think it was a good idea.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Aiba/Ohno/Sho
Summary: Aiba and Sho take Ohno’s mind off his scandal.
Prompt: Six-Senses - KAT-TUN
Warnings: Blowjobs, handjobs, a few swears.
Notes: Written for 2008/2009 je_ficgames. Yeah, so I might have gone way off the mark as far as my prompt went but this is where it took me. I thought, “What if Ohno really did have a threesome? What would that be like?” About 5,000 words.
Three years from now, Ohno will know what this nagging feeling in the back of his head was about. In thirty-six months, Ohno will understand that the tingling feeling is trying to tell him this is a bad idea. In one thousand, ninety-five days, Ohno will regret the night at the karaoke place in Shibuya with these two girls. But right now, he can only focus on the hand sliding up the inside of his thigh and he’s too turned on to give a damn.
___
None of them can stand to see Ohno sulking in the corner, cap pulled down low over his eyes instead of cocked at a stylish angle. He is trying to fold into himself, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, feet propped up against the coffee table where the source of his black mood lays open with his own stupid face looking back at him. All Ohno can do is glower at the magazine and shake his head; he should have known better. He sighs.
”Okay, enough of this shit,” Sho says, standing abruptly. “I can’t take it anymore. We’re taking him out. Who’s in?”
He looks around the table at the other three members: Jun has to be on set for a Hana Yori Dango feature filming early the next day and bows out gracefully. Nino mashes away at his DS, swearing under his breath, but pauses long enough to say he has a production meeting for Ryuusei no Kizuna that he can’t get out of; he’s already tried. Aiba looks across the room at Ohno and then back at Sho.
”I don’t have anything planned,” he says. “I’ll just mail mom and tell her I probably won’t be coming home tonight.”
”That would be wise,” Sho replies. He’s learned its best not to attach a deadline to one of their drinking parties: they consistently stay out all night and, more often that not, go straight to work the next day, much to the displeasure of their managers. Their only saving grace is that occasions which require all-night drinking binges are few and far between.
Nino stows his DS and grabs his bag. On his way past he squeezes Ohno’s hunched shoulder and whispers something that must be encouraging in his ear because Ohno nods, albeit grimly. Hang in there; it’ll blow over, you’ll see.
Ohno just wants to go home, avoid his mother, hide in his room and wallow. He is waiting for the signal that they are free to go but before he even takes his feet off the coffee table, Aiba and Sho flank and steer him through the door towards inebriation. They take him to a club where a friend of Sho’s is deejaying. It’s small, dark, and crowded. They are set up with a booth on the side with a view of the dance floor and bodies writhing to the bass. Sho hopes that the atmosphere will help Ohno forget the episode for the moment (and if all else fails, they’ll just get absolutely trashed).
They stay till the early morning and none of them can see straight. Aiba is starting to leer at people and Ohno has begun to sing to himself so Sho decides it’s time to retire for the night. He is a little bit disappointed. At one point in their careers, they were able to stay out all night drinking and dancing and show up to work with none the wiser and energy to spare. It is barely two and they are packing it in.
They head down the elevator and walk past the crowd still waiting to get behind the velvet rope and stand on the curb while a bouncer calls a cab for them. Ohno throws an arm over both Sho and Aiba’s shoulders and swings his feet off the pavement.
”I don’t want to go home!” he sings into the heavy midsummer air. “I’m not drunk yet.”
”I think you are,” Sho snickers. “I think you both are and you’re starting to hurt me.”
”Let’s go somewhere else!” Aiba replies, but does not offer a suggestion as to where “somewhere else” might be. Sho grins at his two friends leaning on each other, laughing at something that isn’t particularly funny at all. Well, he had wanted to take Ohno’s mind of things so he supposes he can call this night a success.
”Why don’t we go to my house?” Sho offers. “Dad’s on a business trip and mom took my brother and sister to Hakone for the weekend so the house is all mine. At least then, I don’t have to be embarrassed by you fools any more.”
Ohno stops suddenly, as if struck by a bolt of sobriety, and flings both arms around Sho’s neck and mumbles - more so than usual - into the skin just below his ear, “Thank you.”
Sho smiles fondly and pats the back of Ohno’s head, letting him cling as much as he likes until Aiba nearly falls off the sidewalk into the path of their taxi.
Sho gives the driver his address and they squish into the back seat. Ohno has the unfortunate middle seat and shifts uncomfortably as the seatbelt digs into his tailbone. Aiba’s long legs seem to take up most of the room and he nods off on Ohno’s shoulder for the duration of the trip, leaning his full body weight into the older man. Sho occupies Ohno’s other side, a solid and reassuring presence, bearing both Ohno’s and Aiba’s weight without complaint as the driver takes hairpin turns through the narrow residential streets of Roppongi.
They are spread out on the floor of Sho’s bedroom, empty cans of Asahi and Kirin creating a small mountain on the table in the middle of the room. Aiba flicks through Sho’s CD folder looking for something new, deciding on an M-Flo Loves compilation album. He settles the CD into the tray and rummages around for the remote lost under the cushions.
Ohno takes a sip from his third beer since arriving at Sho’s and slams the can down, splashing froth on his hand and the Formica table top.
”The least those assholes could have done is gotten the facts right,” he growls.
”Those assholes being...?” Sho questions, though he has a pretty fair idea of who Ohno is referring to.
”Those assholes at Shuukan Gendai.”
”What facts did they get wrong?” Aiba asks after significantly denting his fourth Asahi Dry. Sho contemplates kicking him under the table but Ohno continues unperturbed.
”But then again, if they had the right facts, there wouldn’t be any scandal.”
”What do you mean?” Aiba prods; this time Sho does kick him. “Ow! What? I’m just asking. It’s not like he doesn’t want to talk about it.”
Ohno scowls into the bottom of his empty can as spots of red bloom on his cheeks. Neither can tell if it’s from the alcohol or anger or something else. Aiba pulls three new cans from the mini fridge under Sho’s desk and passes them out.
”They were friends of a friend of mine and we did go to karaoke that night. They decided to hotbox the karaoke room. I stuck to my beer but you can’t help but be affected by that.”
”So, what about the threesome?” Aiba is well passed drunk and seems to have left his tact in his other pants. Sho reigns in the urge to smack him because he can’t lie, his interest is piqued.
”I was too fucked up,” he grinds out. “I couldn’t keep it up.”
”Ouch,” Sho winces.
The gravity of Ohno’s confession takes a few moments to sink in for Aiba. “So you didn’t... You didn’t get with two girls?”
”No,” Ohno admits, his flush deepening. “I wish it were true. Everyone thinks I’m some kind of pimp now. Nishikido gave me two thumbs up this morning as he passed me in the hallway.”
”Wow. Coming from him, that means a lot.”
They sit in silence, contemplating this new information. Ohno brings his palm to his cheek and wishes his face would stop flushing; he is certainly no Casanova, but he does alright with the ladies. This admission is definitely a blow to the ego.
”What was it like?” Aiba asks, staring absently at the striped pattern of Sho’s bedspread. They know Aiba is the most sexually adventurous of them all, but his quest for a threesome has remained elusive. Sho had his fair share of Junior’s sisters but always one at a time.
Sho fidgets with the ring tab of his beer. He knows his band mates intimately - they take notice of each other’s new underwear, after all - but he doesn’t think he feels comfortable knowing what goes on behind closed doors, in private. There are just some things better left unknown.
”It was... a lot,” Ohno explains vaguely. He is met with equally vague looks. “It was almost too much. They were all aggressive and focused on me and didn’t give me time to get used to anything. It felt weird - wrong.”
”Well, I would be weirded out too if there had been a camera involved,” Sho replies.
”No, it wasn’t that... It shouldn’t have been them.”
The words unsaid polarize the air. Sho stiffens, keenly aware despite his alcoholic haze of the impending; Aiba stills his hands that are playing with the shag carpet and searches Ohno’s face, his eyes strangely focused for being the drunkest of them all. Ohno crosses his legs and holds his can in both hands, staring at the condensation on the silver surface rather than the faces of his friends.
”If I were to have a threesome with anyone, it would be you two.”
”Why us?” Sho asks, a bit of little shock colouring his voice.
”It’s not like I’m asking, okay?” Ohno prefaces. “It would have to be you. Nino’s too jealous: he wouldn’t play well with others. And Jun’s too kinky for me: I don’t want to be bruised, just thoroughly fucked. With you, we’re equals. I trust you.”
Sho feels heat rise to his ears. He has never looked down this path before, let alone thought of walking it and the knowledge that one of his dearest friends would want to take it with him is... definitely terrifying, decidedly flattering, and a little bit exciting. Sho’s brow creases; he is trying to apply logic to his rollercoaster of emotions and make some kind of sense that operates in the real world where they are all straight boys who play with girls, despite the amount of times they find themselves cosplaying in skirts.
”It wouldn’t be so scary if it was you,” Ohno says quietly.
”I think I would like it,” Aiba admits.
”You would like anything that involves you getting off,” Sho retorts.
”You’re probably right,” he replies, grinning.
The smile slides from Aiba’s face and they sit looking at each other. Is this something you talk about beforehand? Or after? Do you ask for written formal consent from all persons involved before you begin? Should there be a plan of who does what to whom so that it’s fair and balanced? Ohno’s gaze flits around the room, hesitating on their faces and wondering where to go from here. Knowing that they don’t hate him and aren’t disgusted makes him want to try this just a little bit more. Sho is by far the most nervous. They can see that he is fighting with himself, fighting with his perceptions of who he is, what and who he should and shouldn’t do, and what it means if he just does what he feels.
Aiba is calm. He leans across the floor on hands and knees to press his lips to Ohno’s in a short but firm kiss before doing the same so Sho. He lingers on Sho’s lips for a beat, catching his eyes and says, “We’re just people: it doesn’t matter if we’re boys or girls. I’m me, you’re you, Leader’s Leader and this just is. Don’t try to think it through; just be.”
It doesn’t make complete sense - Aiba never really does, although this is the closest he’s ever come to it - but it’s enough. Sho closes his eyes and lets the walls fall down; he feels exposed and vulnerable even though he still has all his clothes on.
”You just have to say 'stop’,” Aiba says reassuringly before kissing Sho gently again.
Ohno watches the exchange with interest and decides this is how a threesome should feel. There is no nagging feeling at the back of his neck that he doesn’t quite understand this time; there’s no pressure, no expectations, no cameras. They aren’t doing this for anyone other than themselves and each other and any documentation will be done with their senses.
Sho lets Aiba kiss him, concentrating hard on the slight tug of their dry lips against each other and the pressure of Aiba’s hand on his knee. It’s just a kiss, lips are lips, but the sensations and knowledge that it’s Aiba-chan he’s kissing makes him slow and cautious. Aiba pulls away and pokes Sho between the eyebrows.
”Get out of there. You’ll miss everything,” he says.
Ohno leans back against the double bed and reaches a hand out to Aiba, beckoning the younger man to him. Sho is quietly relieved to be relegated to a spectator position and takes a long draught of his beer, nearly emptying the can. Aiba manoeuvres himself over Ohno’s legs, sitting himself in the eldest’s lap and plays with the hem of Ohno’s white t-shirt while Ohno brings their lips together. It’s paced and gentle, each seeing how much the other is willing to give or take.
Sho empties a fifth beer for good measure and Aiba has moved from Ohno’s lips to his neck and Sho thinks his hands must be doing something delightful under that t-shirt from the way Ohno’s head has fallen back onto the mattress and low, breathy sighs are coming from his mouth.
Sho pushes the table out of the way and takes up a position behind Aiba, none too steadily with the amount of alcohol he has just imbibed in such a short amount time but the other two don’t notice. He sweeps Aiba’s hair off his neck, revealing a wide expanse of skin untouched by the sun. He brings his face close, inhaling Aiba’s scent - it’s something like freshly cut grass and sunshine and the slight saltiness of sweat, he decides - and begins to place fleeting kisses from his pulse down across his shoulder. His right hand rests on Aiba’s hip for balance, his fingers slip under the yellow cotton and across the skin of his waist. Ohno’s hands smooth up the tops of Aiba’s thighs and he tangles his fingers with Sho’s.
Aiba’s exploration of Ohno’s neck yields positive results as the painter’s moans turn low and gravely under his attention. Aiba nips the papery skin just above his left collarbone and then laves the nick with his tongue, meriting a sharp jerk from the man beneath him. The sudden tug of his hands brings Sho flush against Aiba’s back with a muffled grunt.
Sho is a very aural person and it becomes very clear to both himself and Aiba (who he is pressed up against from neck to hip) that the sound of Ohno’s low aspirations and Aiba’s satisfied humming and his own altered breathing have gone straight to his cock.
”Sho-chan, switch with me,” Aiba says, turning his face towards Sho’s. The hands that have been mapping the terrain of Ohno’s chest and stomach and circumnavigating the waistband of his jeans and navel reappear from under Ohno’s shirt. Aiba extricates himself from Ohno’s lap and Sho takes his place slowly but not with hesitation.
Without Aiba, who is wetting his palate that is dry from all the exploratory kissing, the training wheels are off: he isn’t there to take them by the hand and show them what it is they want and how to get it. This time, Ohno leads. He reaches a hand around Sho’s waist, resting it in the curve of his lower back while keeping their fingers laced and reaches for his lips. While Aiba’s kiss had subtle sweetness to it - like chocolate or milk tea - Sho’s has spice like ginger or whiskey. Ohno wonders idly what his kiss tastes like.
Aiba leans an elbow on the table and watches his friends become increasingly more comfortable and bold. Sho’s free hand follows the same path his did across Ohno’s abdomen, rounding the curves of his hip, resting at the oasis of his bellybutton before climbing higher to his chest. An experimental tweak of Ohno’s right nipple - the more sensitive of the two - has him gasping into Sho’s mouth which smirks slightly at the discovery. Aiba is pleased to see that Sho has realized that kissing boys is very much like kissing girls and both will react in delicious ways if you touch them in the right places. The mechanisms of having a person panting in your ear, begging for you to stroke them there, yes, harder mm, faster--ah, shit--were identical. The stroking of boys came natural to all of them.
Ohno makes this same connection shortly thereafter and the hand on the hollow of Sho’s back strays down to the top of his jeans and further around to the front. He isn’t surprised to find Sho already hard against his palm and Sho shouldn’t be either since it was quite clear where Leader’s hand was headed but a breathy gasp falls from his lips anyway.
Aiba rejoins them and sneaks his hands up the back of Sho’s shirt, ever higher, until the fabric is bunched under Sho’s arms. Before Aiba murmurs “Lift,” into his skin, Sho is already removing the offending garment, dropping it somewhere off to his left. He flinches as Aiba applies the flat of his tongue to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, wet and cold with the slight fizzle of beer remaining and snaps further into Ohno’s open hand. Ohno chuckles quietly at the look on Sho’s face: he can’t decide whether to concentrate on playing with Ohno’s skin or focus on the feeling of Aiba’s tongue and fingers on his.
Ohno takes this opportunity to pop the button on Sho's Calvin Kleins and ease down the zipper. The rapper is too absorbed in the slide of Aiba's wet mouth over his shoulder blades and the fingers wiggling into the waistband of his jeans to care, but not so much that he doesn't notice one thing: "Why am I the only one getting undressed?"
At this, Ohno brings Sho's hand that is still wrapped up in his to join its twin at the hem of his own white shirt. "No one is stopping you," he says, voice gravely and deep.
Given carte blanche, Sho makes short work of the t-shirt and it joins his on the floor somewhere near their ankles. He leans back into warmth of Aiba’s chest; the soft yellow cotton caresses the smooth skin on Sho's back, a sharp contrast to the warm, slightly rough touch of lips and fingertips. Straddling Leader, who is still trying to divest Sho of his jeans, proves too much of an obstacle for undressing; they help each other stand and assist with buttons and zippers, each gesture and movement laden with trust. Ohno reaches for Aiba’s t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head from the back of the collar and dumps it behind him. It lands on the only light source - Sho’s bedside lamp - and the room is tinted with saffron and warmth that tans all their skins in an instant. Freckles and scars, birthmarks and moles stand out in sharp relief.
Jeans in three similarly different shades are puddled in the middle of the floor; five socks are strewn across the carpet and one has landed on the desk. They stand in their boxers and each pause to look at his comrades, band mates, friends. They pause to give any and all a chance to backpedal - they haven't gone too far yet. The weight of waiting for five breaths is heavier than the thought of what they are about to do entirely. Ohno stands between Aiba and Sho and takes one of their hands in each of his, a silent and solid act of appreciation and thanks. He steps back until his calves bump against the edge of the bed, pulling them down with him gracelessly onto the sheets. His capillaries are buzzing with undiluted excitement, cut with the thrill that underlies all first times. As he reaches for Sho's smooth cheek and guides him down for another kiss, Ohno can't help but grin: it was strange to be feeling virginal all over again (once was surely enough) but this isn't nearly as terrifying or awkward as it was back then.
Aiba navigates from Ohno's jaw to his waist, marking his journey with open-mouthed kisses and licks like breadcrumbs in case he should lose his way. He moves between Ohno's legs, his large hands splayed wide on his leader's thighs, supporting his weight there until he reaches the wings of Ohno's hips. Aiba slithers off the bed to kneel on the floor and marks the caramel skin under Ohno's navel with hot breath, watching the muscles under his stomach flutter and flex with minute tremors. Aiba's hands are close but not close enough; fingers hook into the waistband of Ohno's checkered boxers and still. Ohno whines into Sho's mouth and the hand not tangled in Sho's hair goes to cup the back of Aiba's head, nails tickling scalp as fingers curl with greed.
Sho's sense of balance is a delicate thing at the best of times but when Ohno moans into their kiss, any blood left in his head shoots straight to his cock and he can feel the world start to tilt. Sho wills his eyes open as Ohno's grasp loosens, hand falling from his hair down his spine, and Ohno arches off the mattress. What he sees is Aiba's lean frame draped over Ohno's glorious nudity, Aiba's fingers playing with the satin crease of thigh and torso as his full lips are wrapped around Ohno's hard cock.
"Oh, shit," Stimulated through illustration and animation, Ohno curses when he looks down between his legs. "Sho-chan, I can't-- at the same time... I can't watch--" Aiba's head bobs up and down in Ohno’s lap, he takes his time to traverse the length like he was out for a Sunday walk. Aiba breathes through his nose in carefully measured intervals; harsh breaths snag on Ohno's tongue when his head tips back, knocking slightly on the wall on the far side of the bed.
And some how Sho understands what Ohno means with his half-formed panting. Before turning towards Ohno's face and swinging a leg over his chest, he combs his fingers through Aiba's hair, brushing it out of his eyes briefly. No longer being able to see the slide of Aiba's lips along the underside of Ohno's dick or the glistening trail left by his tongue makes the wet obscenities ring even louder in Sho's ears.
With Sho straddling his chest, so close, Ohno is all too aware of how turned on the rapper is. It hardly seems fair that he's getting, arguably, the best blow job of his life while Sho strains against his underwear. He presses his fingers into the flesh of Sho's waist, exploring all the dips and divots of his stomach that Ohno’s only ever seen and catches Sho's gaze before gripping him through his boxers.
The friction rocks Sho, upending the delicate hold he had on his centre. He leans forward and plants his hands firmly on the mattress on either side of Ohno's head. Steadied on hands and knees, hair falling forward and tickling his cheeks, Sho bucks into Ohno’s hand. The eldest tugs Sho’s faded blue boxers down far enough to free his dripping cock; Ohno encases it with his long elegant fingers - yes, finally, Sho thinks with a choked moan - and his hand glides smoothly up and down, spreading the white beads across the head and down the shaft.
Aiba looks through his fringe at Sho bent over with elbows locked. His head is hanging, his chin tucked into his chest, his back expands with breath - and pauses - and falls quickly before repeating in a staccato rhythm. His toes are pointed and every muscle seems to be flexed; every part of his body is strung tight and a single, purposeful pluck will cause him to break. With one hand around the base of Ohno’s erection, working in tandem with his mouth, Aiba digs into his own shorts and grips himself and pumps fiercely. The sexual charge in the air is so thick that he knows it won’t take much.
Ohno studies Sho’s face and traces the expressions that flit across his features as he changes the pace or the tension in his fist: a lazy drag of fingertips and Sho’s mouth will make a delicate round shape. A tight grip with a twist and his brows will furrow in delicious pain. Fingers firm with pressure from the thumb under, up and over the top of the head to worry the slit and Sho’s voice breaks free and his eyes shut tight. Ohno’s hand is sticky and the skin under his palm is starting to pulse of its own volition.
Ohno sees Sho’s resolve start to slip, and he knows that he isn’t much far behind; a sharp groan is unleashed as Aiba abandons teasing licks and passes of his tongue to take as much of Ohno into his mouth as he can. Ohno’s rhythm deteriorates, all awareness trained on the slick mouth around his dick. He tosses his head from side to side, senseless babble dribbling from his mouth: “Ohmigod, I can’t. I can’t--Ah, Masaki--I’m. I’m gonna--”
Aiba knows it’s over when Ohno reaches for one of his hands and fumbles for his fingers. His grip is like a talon; he can only imagine what that’s doing to Sho. He can feel a surge and a twitch with his tongue and replaces his mouth with his hand as Ohno comes.
Aiba climbs onto Ohno’s hips and leans into Sho, bringing his hand around to join Leader’s. Together they grip him - Aiba making up for Ohno’s lack of coordination - and tug. Aiba’s breath is warm and moist between his shoulder blades; he can feel the jerking of Aiba’s hand on his own erection behind him. It’s too much - it’s been too much for too long - and Sho comes hard, his hips pistoning into the tunnel of fingers, his grunts sounding primal and raw.
Sho’s arms buckle, and he crumbles on top of Ohno, rolling slightly to the side to avoid putting his full body weight on the compact man beneath. His limbs feel like jelly, all he can hear is Ohno’s staggered breathing, his own panting and Aiba’s hand stroking himself to completion. His skin tingles and everything is blurry. He barely registers the warm spurts drizzling down the back of his thigh when Aiba finally comes with a muffled cry as he bites his lip. Aiba’s weight is on him for a second and then the heated body behind him is gone; the bed to his left dips and Aiba’s shallow huffs ring in his other ear.
They lay like that, the sheets rumpled and the room reeking of sex, Ohno flat on his back with Aiba to his left and Sho wedged in between, his right arm and leg still slung across Ohno’s stomach. They lie like that and do nothing but exist - no thinking, no wondering what things will be like tomorrow or the day after, no worrying about whether or not word would leak out to the media. They lie like that, skin still tingling at all points of contact, feeling warm and sated from the inside out.
”You’ve done that before,” Ohno mumbles in Aiba’s direction, not making any attempt at moving even though he knows he should.
”I’ve never had a threesome, you know that,” he replies.
”Not that, the...” he makes a vague circular motion around his crotch that no one sees.
”You never asked,” Aiba reasons. It’s true. “You never asked, and I never found the need to tell.”
”Oh,” Ohno responds intelligently.
They lie there in silence until Sho asks, “How do you feel now, Satoshi?”
”Sleepy,” is the first reply. They chuckle; it seems that Ohno has returned to former himself. “Good. I feel good.”
”Was it scary?” Aiba wonders from his left.
”Hmm... yes, but only at first. When you kissed me, I knew it would be alright.”
”Are you going to regret this?” Sho queries, anxiety thinly veiled in his voice.
”As long as this stays within these four walls, never.”
___
In three years, Ohno will remember that residual frisson on his skin and blush. In thirty-six months, Ohno will wonder and doubt if that those sensations could ever be recreated. In one thousand, ninety-five days, Ohno will not regret the night he spent with Sho and Aiba after news of his scandal broke, even when Aiba lets it slip when he gets so drunk he has a porcelain confessional with God. And even then, he’ll still think it was a good idea.