only fingerprints
Title: Only Fingerprints
Pairing/Group: Nakamaru Yuichi/Tanaka Koki
Rating/Warnings: R; blindfolds and handjobs.
Word Count: 1504
Summary: It's all indelible touch.
Notes: Written for rikikomori for the jpnforph fundraiser. Also it kind of goes with the anonymity square of my kb card.
[more notes]Ri, I know you said AU would be cool, and that's what I aimed for. Instead, things got a little out of hand, and oops, canon-fic. It was kind of like ripping the band-aid off all at once, though, and I feel a little bit better. I hope you enjoy this.
As always, je_levy held my hand and encouraged me during this. <3
Every once in a while, he gets a text from an unfamiliar number, a call from "unknown" that leaves a message. The words are familiar, the cadence of the distorted voice just out of grasp.
Koki rolls over, sighs. He listens to yet another voice mail. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s anyone; lately anyone ends up being Yucchi. He tries to tell himself he doesn’t miss that comforting presence, the scratchy wool sweaters, or those soft eyes.
It’s a long shot, but Koki texts the number back. Maybe he’ll get an answer, even though he doesn’t really expect one. He drops his phone on his nightstand and pulls the cover over his head; he’s nearly asleep when it chimes with a response.
If I know you-- and I do-- you desperately want to know who I am.
Koki frowns at the screen; this mystery person is exactly right. Yes, he replies, holding his phone in front of his face under the covers.
The wait for a response is almost agonizing; Koki chews his bottom lip as he slides idly through screens.
Okay then; go and fetch a tie, blindfold yourself. Yes or no?
Koki's fingers nearly fumble as he types his answer. No other response comes , and he flings his blankets off as he moves to obey. The floor is cold as he pads to his dresser, and he tells himself that's the reason he shifts from foot to foot as he chooses a tie; of course it isn't because he's nervous.
Once he's picked it out, a somber black silk, Koki returns to the safety of his covers. He closes his eyes and pulls the tie tight around his head and settles back. In the quiet space behind his blindfold, Koki wonders who it could be; a tiny sliver hopes that it is Yucchi.
He thinks about hands as he waits. The friendly way Kame’s calloused hands would clasp his shoulders, the patterns of bruises along Uepi’s knuckles. Both of them always had roughened fingertips, callouses from baseball and boxing and guitar strings. Koki sighs, his own fingers crushing the sheets.
He can’t help it as he remembers Junno’s hands, bigger than his own and smooth. How easily his strong fingers would brush against his, casually linking together. He kind of misses it. He still wouldn’t admit to it, though.
Koki squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying not to picture Yucchi’s hands, his thin fingers. They were always so soft, thin pale skin and if Koki concentrates hard enough he could feel them. Yucchi always doled out touches with what seemed like careful consideration, rewards for some unspoken edict.
Particularly rewarding was the way Yucchi would press those slim fingers against Koki’s lips in a silent gesture for quiet; in hotel rooms, in the very backs of cars when everyone else dozed. Yucchi always did have that sneaky undercurrent; pure glee as he’d slip fingers along Koki’s waistband while everyone was present but no one was watching.
In the solitude of his room, Koki slips one hand under the covers, fingers trailing down his bare chest, stopping to worry the barbell in his navel before venturing beneath the waistband of his sweats. He pauses, wondering if he’s allowed to touch while his guest isn’t there. The curl of arousal is swirling with anticipation in the pit of his belly, and he withdraws.
As he sighs, Koki can swear he hears a pleased noise, that deep sound of satisfaction that he misses so much. Koki stills, straining to hear more, but it’s useless. His pulse is thundering in his ears.
The faintest of touches drags across his collarbones. “Who--?” Koki starts, silenced by a single finger pressed against his lips.
He knows this touch.
Everything that’s been building in his chest crumbles; he squeezes his eyes shut even though no one can see, and try as he might, he can’t keep a half-sob from spilling out. The single finger is joined by its mates as they cup his cheek in silent comfort, thumb rubbing soothingly across his lower lip.
“Hush now.” Koki can feel Yucchi’s warmth, wonders if there’s still that tinge of disappointment in the back of his eyes. He nods, breathing deeply as he wills his heart to stop beating so furiously. “Is this okay?”
Koki kisses the pad of Yucchi’s thumb as he nods. He bites his lip when the touch withdraws, and shivers when the bedclothes are pulled away from him. Soft fingers stroke down the sides of his neck and along his collarbones, down his arms and tangle with his own for a moment before leaving him again. He keeps himself from grabbing at them in an effort to keep the contact; a tiny voice tries whispering in the back of his mind that he doesn’t even deserve that much.
The bed shifts and Koki is startled from his thoughts. A light touch on his hip urges him to lift up, and Yucchi pulls Koki’s sweats down his legs. It’s cold, and Koki can feel a blush coloring his cheeks. There’s a low chuckle in response, and Koki squirms. He wonders if the lights are on.
For what feels like several long minutes, Koki waits. His pulse still races, and he’s hard. He wonders if Yucchi has left the room, or if he’s the only visitor, or if he’s got his camera phone muted as he snaps shots. None of those thoughts calm him, and he rocks his hips, a little impatient.
Finally, there’s a rustling at his side, and a whole hand settles on his chest, right above his thundering heart. Yucchi squeezes, startling a gasp from Koki before sliding lower. His palm is dry, the friction delicious, and Koki tries to remember how to breathe. If this is how he’s reacting now, he’s doomed.
Yucchi stops at Koki’s bellybutton, tugs gently on the metal until Koki’s mouth falls open in a silent gasp. It must satisfy him, because he lets go after that and continues downward, skimming Koki’s hipbone and moving to massage his thigh. It isn’t enough, and Koki can’t help but fist the sheets in frustration as he arches up again.
He’s almost ready to reach for Yucchi and put his hand where he wants it. Yucchi must be able to sense it, because he laughs, low and barely there, and rakes his fingernails up the inside of Koki’s thigh, abruptly turning gentle when they meet the thin skin in the crease of his hip. Koki sucks in a breath and bites his lip, spreading his legs in blatant invitation.
The faintest of touches ghosts between his legs, along Koki’s balls and up the underside of his dick. It’s nowhere near enough, and he whines against his will and better judgement. Yucchi seems to be in an accommodating mood, though, and he wraps his fingers around him, tight, and it almost hurts but it’s exactly what Koki’s been waiting for.
Yucchi’s thumb swipes across his head, and Koki moans; he knows he must be dripping. Any thoughts about being wet are swept from his mind in the next instant because Yucchi starts jerking him, long slow strokes, and it’s not long before his fingers are tangling in the sheets. That doesn’t have any effect on Yucchi; he keeps his pace agonizingly measured.
Koki can’t tell how long it’s been going on, how long Yucchi’s singular touch is the only thing he can focus on. He simply thrashes under it, even when Yucchi holds his hip down with his other hand, sweat beading at his temples under the blindfold as he’s reduced to feeling and broken noises. It takes too long but it’s still too soon when he falls over the edge. The last vestiges of his awareness vaguely register that Yucchi’s hand is still on him.
Something warm and wet presses against his lips, and Koki opens his mouth, unsurprised when Yucchi’s sticky fingers slip inside. He laps at them, tastes himself and feels wrung out, boneless. The bed shifts again, and Koki jerks in surprise when Yucchi returns after hearing the tap run in the next room. Both of them are silent as Yucchi tidies up, gently wiping the sweat from his face but leaving the blindfold in place. Yucchi grabs hold of the sheets and pulls them back up, covering Koki.
He makes a soft sound, too worn out to form words as he blindly reaches for Yucchi. Their hands clasp, but Yucchi pulls away too soon for Koki’s tastes. Koki hears his bedroom door shut, and with it he thinks something cracks inside him. He rolls over, pulling the cover over his head again when he hears it.
His message alert chirps, and Koki fumbles for his phone, belatedly tugging the tie from his eyes.
Don’t fret. There’s plenty of time for more visits.
Koki smiles to himself, the ache in his chest a little less painful.
Pairing/Group: Nakamaru Yuichi/Tanaka Koki
Rating/Warnings: R; blindfolds and handjobs.
Word Count: 1504
Summary: It's all indelible touch.
Notes: Written for rikikomori for the jpnforph fundraiser. Also it kind of goes with the anonymity square of my kb card.
[more notes]Ri, I know you said AU would be cool, and that's what I aimed for. Instead, things got a little out of hand, and oops, canon-fic. It was kind of like ripping the band-aid off all at once, though, and I feel a little bit better. I hope you enjoy this.
As always, je_levy held my hand and encouraged me during this. <3
Every once in a while, he gets a text from an unfamiliar number, a call from "unknown" that leaves a message. The words are familiar, the cadence of the distorted voice just out of grasp.
Koki rolls over, sighs. He listens to yet another voice mail. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s anyone; lately anyone ends up being Yucchi. He tries to tell himself he doesn’t miss that comforting presence, the scratchy wool sweaters, or those soft eyes.
It’s a long shot, but Koki texts the number back. Maybe he’ll get an answer, even though he doesn’t really expect one. He drops his phone on his nightstand and pulls the cover over his head; he’s nearly asleep when it chimes with a response.
If I know you-- and I do-- you desperately want to know who I am.
Koki frowns at the screen; this mystery person is exactly right. Yes, he replies, holding his phone in front of his face under the covers.
The wait for a response is almost agonizing; Koki chews his bottom lip as he slides idly through screens.
Okay then; go and fetch a tie, blindfold yourself. Yes or no?
Koki's fingers nearly fumble as he types his answer. No other response comes , and he flings his blankets off as he moves to obey. The floor is cold as he pads to his dresser, and he tells himself that's the reason he shifts from foot to foot as he chooses a tie; of course it isn't because he's nervous.
Once he's picked it out, a somber black silk, Koki returns to the safety of his covers. He closes his eyes and pulls the tie tight around his head and settles back. In the quiet space behind his blindfold, Koki wonders who it could be; a tiny sliver hopes that it is Yucchi.
He thinks about hands as he waits. The friendly way Kame’s calloused hands would clasp his shoulders, the patterns of bruises along Uepi’s knuckles. Both of them always had roughened fingertips, callouses from baseball and boxing and guitar strings. Koki sighs, his own fingers crushing the sheets.
He can’t help it as he remembers Junno’s hands, bigger than his own and smooth. How easily his strong fingers would brush against his, casually linking together. He kind of misses it. He still wouldn’t admit to it, though.
Koki squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying not to picture Yucchi’s hands, his thin fingers. They were always so soft, thin pale skin and if Koki concentrates hard enough he could feel them. Yucchi always doled out touches with what seemed like careful consideration, rewards for some unspoken edict.
Particularly rewarding was the way Yucchi would press those slim fingers against Koki’s lips in a silent gesture for quiet; in hotel rooms, in the very backs of cars when everyone else dozed. Yucchi always did have that sneaky undercurrent; pure glee as he’d slip fingers along Koki’s waistband while everyone was present but no one was watching.
In the solitude of his room, Koki slips one hand under the covers, fingers trailing down his bare chest, stopping to worry the barbell in his navel before venturing beneath the waistband of his sweats. He pauses, wondering if he’s allowed to touch while his guest isn’t there. The curl of arousal is swirling with anticipation in the pit of his belly, and he withdraws.
As he sighs, Koki can swear he hears a pleased noise, that deep sound of satisfaction that he misses so much. Koki stills, straining to hear more, but it’s useless. His pulse is thundering in his ears.
The faintest of touches drags across his collarbones. “Who--?” Koki starts, silenced by a single finger pressed against his lips.
He knows this touch.
Everything that’s been building in his chest crumbles; he squeezes his eyes shut even though no one can see, and try as he might, he can’t keep a half-sob from spilling out. The single finger is joined by its mates as they cup his cheek in silent comfort, thumb rubbing soothingly across his lower lip.
“Hush now.” Koki can feel Yucchi’s warmth, wonders if there’s still that tinge of disappointment in the back of his eyes. He nods, breathing deeply as he wills his heart to stop beating so furiously. “Is this okay?”
Koki kisses the pad of Yucchi’s thumb as he nods. He bites his lip when the touch withdraws, and shivers when the bedclothes are pulled away from him. Soft fingers stroke down the sides of his neck and along his collarbones, down his arms and tangle with his own for a moment before leaving him again. He keeps himself from grabbing at them in an effort to keep the contact; a tiny voice tries whispering in the back of his mind that he doesn’t even deserve that much.
The bed shifts and Koki is startled from his thoughts. A light touch on his hip urges him to lift up, and Yucchi pulls Koki’s sweats down his legs. It’s cold, and Koki can feel a blush coloring his cheeks. There’s a low chuckle in response, and Koki squirms. He wonders if the lights are on.
For what feels like several long minutes, Koki waits. His pulse still races, and he’s hard. He wonders if Yucchi has left the room, or if he’s the only visitor, or if he’s got his camera phone muted as he snaps shots. None of those thoughts calm him, and he rocks his hips, a little impatient.
Finally, there’s a rustling at his side, and a whole hand settles on his chest, right above his thundering heart. Yucchi squeezes, startling a gasp from Koki before sliding lower. His palm is dry, the friction delicious, and Koki tries to remember how to breathe. If this is how he’s reacting now, he’s doomed.
Yucchi stops at Koki’s bellybutton, tugs gently on the metal until Koki’s mouth falls open in a silent gasp. It must satisfy him, because he lets go after that and continues downward, skimming Koki’s hipbone and moving to massage his thigh. It isn’t enough, and Koki can’t help but fist the sheets in frustration as he arches up again.
He’s almost ready to reach for Yucchi and put his hand where he wants it. Yucchi must be able to sense it, because he laughs, low and barely there, and rakes his fingernails up the inside of Koki’s thigh, abruptly turning gentle when they meet the thin skin in the crease of his hip. Koki sucks in a breath and bites his lip, spreading his legs in blatant invitation.
The faintest of touches ghosts between his legs, along Koki’s balls and up the underside of his dick. It’s nowhere near enough, and he whines against his will and better judgement. Yucchi seems to be in an accommodating mood, though, and he wraps his fingers around him, tight, and it almost hurts but it’s exactly what Koki’s been waiting for.
Yucchi’s thumb swipes across his head, and Koki moans; he knows he must be dripping. Any thoughts about being wet are swept from his mind in the next instant because Yucchi starts jerking him, long slow strokes, and it’s not long before his fingers are tangling in the sheets. That doesn’t have any effect on Yucchi; he keeps his pace agonizingly measured.
Koki can’t tell how long it’s been going on, how long Yucchi’s singular touch is the only thing he can focus on. He simply thrashes under it, even when Yucchi holds his hip down with his other hand, sweat beading at his temples under the blindfold as he’s reduced to feeling and broken noises. It takes too long but it’s still too soon when he falls over the edge. The last vestiges of his awareness vaguely register that Yucchi’s hand is still on him.
Something warm and wet presses against his lips, and Koki opens his mouth, unsurprised when Yucchi’s sticky fingers slip inside. He laps at them, tastes himself and feels wrung out, boneless. The bed shifts again, and Koki jerks in surprise when Yucchi returns after hearing the tap run in the next room. Both of them are silent as Yucchi tidies up, gently wiping the sweat from his face but leaving the blindfold in place. Yucchi grabs hold of the sheets and pulls them back up, covering Koki.
He makes a soft sound, too worn out to form words as he blindly reaches for Yucchi. Their hands clasp, but Yucchi pulls away too soon for Koki’s tastes. Koki hears his bedroom door shut, and with it he thinks something cracks inside him. He rolls over, pulling the cover over his head again when he hears it.
His message alert chirps, and Koki fumbles for his phone, belatedly tugging the tie from his eyes.
Don’t fret. There’s plenty of time for more visits.
Koki smiles to himself, the ache in his chest a little less painful.