Fic: Broken Straws Pt.2 MuraYuu NC-17 KKM
Title: Broken Straws
Series: KKM
Pairing: MuraYuu
Rating: NC-17
Chapter: 2/?
Summary: On a sleepless night, Yuuri finds both himself, and the answers to his questions, in Murata's room.
A/N: Warnings for solo, voyeurism, and exhibitionism, because yes, Murata does know that Yuuri's in the room. He's kinky like that. Now read up, the smut's getting cold.
Yuuri gulped as he surveyed Murata's body. His glasses were off, of course, safely placed on the bedside table. He was wearing a baseball tee shirt, which Yuuri recognized as his own, and a pair of plaid cotton boxers. Yuuri felt miffed. If he had to wear the royal bikini briefs, Murata should have to wear them as well. Otherwise, it just wasn't fair. These thoughts, however were pushed to the back of his mind as he noticed the considerable bulge in Murata's boxers.
Murata sighed again, running his hands slowly, leisurely down his stomach until he reached the waistband of the boxers. Toying with the elastic a moment, he used his thumbs to pull them down past his knees. This task accomplished, he slid his hands back up again until they reached the tangle of dark curls that surrounded his throbbing cock. Still at the same leisurely pace, Murata ran his nails up the underside of his twitching member, soothing the scratches as he made them with the soft pads of his fingers.
After a few moments he stopped, and rolled over carefully to open the bedside table drawer. He removed a vial of clear liquid, pulled out the stopper, and poured a little into his hands. Murata lay flat again on the bed. He hissed as his lube slicked hand made contact with his hot skin. Slippery fingers ran a trail over his testicles as they travelled upwards to take the firm flesh above into a loose grip. With a groan, Murata started to move his hand, slowly at first, over his cock, alternating between a firm hold and a looser one as he moved up and down to a maddeningly slow pace.
In the corner he'd retreated to, Yuuri's mouth hung wide open. Realizing that his mouth had become dry, he closed it again, and tried to swallow. He didn't know what held him to the spot; perhaps it was the fact that if he left now, Murata would know that he was here, and that would be embarrassing for the both of them. And also, Yuuri found himself thinking, this is what you've wanted for so long now, isn't it, to watch and to do, no secrets, no Sage, just Murata Ken.
The dreams, so swiftly forgotten before, came flooding back to him in excruciating detail, and Yuuri realized whom it had been in his dreams, and what they'd been doing, and that he liked it.
Suddenly feeling weak in the knees, Yuuri slumped against the wall, unable to tear his eyes off Murata's face, reddened with heat and pleasure, no glasses to disguise his deep, dark eyes. Yuuri realized that he was hard, painfully hard, from watching the sight in front of him, and ignoring every sense of propriety that tried to gain hold in his brain, he began to touch himself through his pyjama bottoms, his strokes in pace with Murata's.
Murata was close now, Yuuri noticed, the pre-come oozing from the darkened head to mix in with the slippery lubrication applied earlier. The wet sound of flesh against flesh did nothing to help Yuuri's situation. He could do nothing but rub faster, harder, fueled by Murata's occasional groans and whispered words that Yuuri couldn't quite make out.
Yuuri's doubts made their way to the surface, even through the lust that was coursing through his body. He's not thinking about you, the oily voice hissed, only of lovers long dead. Maybe Shinou. Maybe even of some of your own friends and comarades. Yuuri felt his heart sink because he knew that the voice was probably right. But just for this moment, it would be nice to imagine, to trick himself into believing that his best friend was thinking of him as he brought himself so dangerously close to the edge.
Murata was moving again, pouring more of the fluid into his hands. After coating three fingers with the stuff, he slowly inserted them into his tight opening, groaning as be began to move them in and out slowly, allowing himself only a few seconds of adjustment time before he drove himself down onto his slick fingers, gasping each time they brushed that one sweet spot. The fist around his cock moved in time to his fingers, up and down, in and out, a barrage of sensation that proved, as always, to be too much to resist.
Yuuri heard Murata's strangled cry as he came, thrusting up into his own hand, but Yuuri was barely able to register it through the heat rushing in his ears. Realizing that Murata would probably get up soon to clean himself off, Yuuri quickly turned toward the wall, trying to calm himself down and blend in to the shadows as much as possible. However, his body would not let him ignore it, and even as he pressed into the wall to hide himself, his hand kept moving between his legs.
Not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, but posting it anyway because I don't care to revamp it.
Series: KKM
Pairing: MuraYuu
Rating: NC-17
Chapter: 2/?
Summary: On a sleepless night, Yuuri finds both himself, and the answers to his questions, in Murata's room.
A/N: Warnings for solo, voyeurism, and exhibitionism, because yes, Murata does know that Yuuri's in the room. He's kinky like that. Now read up, the smut's getting cold.
Yuuri gulped as he surveyed Murata's body. His glasses were off, of course, safely placed on the bedside table. He was wearing a baseball tee shirt, which Yuuri recognized as his own, and a pair of plaid cotton boxers. Yuuri felt miffed. If he had to wear the royal bikini briefs, Murata should have to wear them as well. Otherwise, it just wasn't fair. These thoughts, however were pushed to the back of his mind as he noticed the considerable bulge in Murata's boxers.
Murata sighed again, running his hands slowly, leisurely down his stomach until he reached the waistband of the boxers. Toying with the elastic a moment, he used his thumbs to pull them down past his knees. This task accomplished, he slid his hands back up again until they reached the tangle of dark curls that surrounded his throbbing cock. Still at the same leisurely pace, Murata ran his nails up the underside of his twitching member, soothing the scratches as he made them with the soft pads of his fingers.
After a few moments he stopped, and rolled over carefully to open the bedside table drawer. He removed a vial of clear liquid, pulled out the stopper, and poured a little into his hands. Murata lay flat again on the bed. He hissed as his lube slicked hand made contact with his hot skin. Slippery fingers ran a trail over his testicles as they travelled upwards to take the firm flesh above into a loose grip. With a groan, Murata started to move his hand, slowly at first, over his cock, alternating between a firm hold and a looser one as he moved up and down to a maddeningly slow pace.
In the corner he'd retreated to, Yuuri's mouth hung wide open. Realizing that his mouth had become dry, he closed it again, and tried to swallow. He didn't know what held him to the spot; perhaps it was the fact that if he left now, Murata would know that he was here, and that would be embarrassing for the both of them. And also, Yuuri found himself thinking, this is what you've wanted for so long now, isn't it, to watch and to do, no secrets, no Sage, just Murata Ken.
The dreams, so swiftly forgotten before, came flooding back to him in excruciating detail, and Yuuri realized whom it had been in his dreams, and what they'd been doing, and that he liked it.
Suddenly feeling weak in the knees, Yuuri slumped against the wall, unable to tear his eyes off Murata's face, reddened with heat and pleasure, no glasses to disguise his deep, dark eyes. Yuuri realized that he was hard, painfully hard, from watching the sight in front of him, and ignoring every sense of propriety that tried to gain hold in his brain, he began to touch himself through his pyjama bottoms, his strokes in pace with Murata's.
Murata was close now, Yuuri noticed, the pre-come oozing from the darkened head to mix in with the slippery lubrication applied earlier. The wet sound of flesh against flesh did nothing to help Yuuri's situation. He could do nothing but rub faster, harder, fueled by Murata's occasional groans and whispered words that Yuuri couldn't quite make out.
Yuuri's doubts made their way to the surface, even through the lust that was coursing through his body. He's not thinking about you, the oily voice hissed, only of lovers long dead. Maybe Shinou. Maybe even of some of your own friends and comarades. Yuuri felt his heart sink because he knew that the voice was probably right. But just for this moment, it would be nice to imagine, to trick himself into believing that his best friend was thinking of him as he brought himself so dangerously close to the edge.
Murata was moving again, pouring more of the fluid into his hands. After coating three fingers with the stuff, he slowly inserted them into his tight opening, groaning as be began to move them in and out slowly, allowing himself only a few seconds of adjustment time before he drove himself down onto his slick fingers, gasping each time they brushed that one sweet spot. The fist around his cock moved in time to his fingers, up and down, in and out, a barrage of sensation that proved, as always, to be too much to resist.
Yuuri heard Murata's strangled cry as he came, thrusting up into his own hand, but Yuuri was barely able to register it through the heat rushing in his ears. Realizing that Murata would probably get up soon to clean himself off, Yuuri quickly turned toward the wall, trying to calm himself down and blend in to the shadows as much as possible. However, his body would not let him ignore it, and even as he pressed into the wall to hide himself, his hand kept moving between his legs.
Not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, but posting it anyway because I don't care to revamp it.