#22 Theme 42: Some Boys Touch - Goto Maki; Tora/Hiroto
Title: Monkey Business
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 042 Some Boys Touch (Goto Maki)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: fluff?, crack, smut, wrestling
Comments: Thank you thank you thanks to tingedwords for typing up my fail♥ :D
Monkey Business
There were quite a number of things Hiroto could have been doing - namely making music or at least making lunch - but his mind and body were in other places. Thumbs twiddling and toes kicking up the lint beneath his seat, he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and turned away from his laptop.
Outside a helicopter zoomed through the sky, propelling up wind with loud, violent claps Hiroto couldn't hear through the thick windows and his clunky headphones.
It was a nice day out.
Probably.
Taking the headphones off, he watched the noisy aircraft float away.
Helicopters look like fun, maybe we should all go for a ride someday.
A quick glance from his spot in the living room revealed Saga still sitting at the dining table, his own laptop out and headphones in as he strummed a few tentative chords. At his feet Chicken scratched at the carpet, purring and waiting for the bassist to take notice of his flicking tail and soft grey fur.
Hiroto puffed his cheeks out absentmindedly, setting his guitar on the floor before his lips broke out with an evil grin.
Tip-toeing down the hall, he gently eased the bedroom door open, knowing full well Tora would be hard at work on their PC. His silence was pointless however, not only did Tora have his headphones strapped on, a thick beanie had been shoved over his mess of hair and plastic.
For a moment Hiroto simply stood watching from the door. Tora seemed deep in thought, rearranging miscellaneous movies and mp3s, checking his emails and barely used blog.
All in all, it was turning out to be a very unproductive session on Team Guitar's part.
With the sudden speed and enthusiasm of a wild schoolboy, Hiroto bound across the bedroom and pounced.
“Yaaaahhhhh!” he cried, latching himself around Tora’s neck and applying pressure in mock headlock. Mostly confused and somewhat surprised, Tora made a confused-surprised grunt, straining to get off his rolly desk chair and away from his precious hoard of electronic media.
He literally picked Hiroto up by the arms wrapped around his neck and plowed him into their bed, a small “oopfh!” leaving the smaller man’s lips before he started squirming, hands still interlocked around Tora’s neck while the elder’s shoulder dug into his chest.
“Glasses! Glasses!” Tora reminded, struggling to pull Hiroto’s scrawny yet ridiculously persistent frame off his back - though he was practically lying on the mischievous man. Both of them refused to be the first to let go, two pairs of glasses sliding precariously low on noses and threatening to fall and crush amongst flailing limbs.
When his attempts to pull Tora’s glasses off with his bare toes failed, Hiroto bent forward and dislodged them with his teeth.
“Aww, ew! Hiroto! You got your spit all over my new glasses!” Tora whined, fingers still trying to peel the other's hands apart.
“Y-You don’t mind my spit on your dick!” Hiroto bit out, holding on for dear life.
“Point. Made,” Tora grimaced, starting to get a bit red in the face.
Elsewhere in the spacious flat, soft guitar twangs could be heard, but the only thing the two guitarists could hear was the blood rushing to their ears.
Digging his heels into the bedside carpet, Tora pushed his calves against the mattress's edge with a heave; briefly gaining enough momentum and leverage to stand up. The quick maneuver was enough to catch Hiroto off guard and give Tora the chance to circle the smaller man bodily around before they only again fell back onto the bed. He was still in a headlock (because damn but the squirrel wouldn’t let go), but now Hiroto was off his back and fully beneath him.
“Glasses! Glasses!” It was Hiroto’s turn to screech as Tora moved in for the kill.
Allowing the younger five seconds to put their glasses somewhere safe, Tora pulled off the headphones and hat he’d still been wearing (ripped straight out of the jack after Hiroto threw himself at the 'busy' guitarist) and tossed them to the ground. Hiroto barely had time to kick and scream before a heavy mass was overlapping and overshadowing him.
“GAH! You’re crushing me!”
It was pure luck Hiroto’s knee bent between them in time, but he was able to push Tora off all the same, although it took all his strength to do it. Seeing he had embarked on a failing venture, in a moment of sheer lucid genius, Hiroto made a run for it. He grabbed the edge of their queen-sized and flew.
“Oh it’s not over yet!!!” Tora bellowed, grabbing the other from behind before he could escape.
With a yelp Hiroto found himself the unwilling victim of a poorly planned plan gone mostly and completely wrong. Tora’s arms were relentless in their hold, now around his neck and head and hauling him back onto the bed. More vigorous wriggling only got Tora’s legs twisted in his and a mouthful of sheets.
Sun shone warmly in through the slats of their blinds, something Hiroto couldn't appreciate with his face smushed to the side. Incoherent grumbles and gibberish escaped their open bedroom, faint mewls and inarticulate testimony to Hiroto's sad attempts at scrambling out of Tora’s reach.
Hands wrapped knuckle tight around the older guitarist’s wrists, with the momentum of a considerable amount of flail and leg kicking Hiroto was only just able to tip them both off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
“Grrr,” he growled in a mildly nonthreatening huff. It really was a lost battle and he was just another hopeless cause. Although he was now lying on top of Tora, the other was curled tightly around him; arms still wrapped around his neck, knees at Hiroto’s waist and the rest of his legs stopping any other alleged footwork in a full-body hold.
“You give?” Tora asked from somewhere near his ear, chest vibrating against his back.
“No!” Hiroto scoffed belligerently, as if Tora should have known better. Sighing the other was 'forced' to hold on as the slow minutes past, Hiroto twisting and tugging in vain.
Off to the side, a short electronic bleep-blooped melody alerted the two tangled men of their computer's presence.
“You give now?”
“NO!”
“Aww come on Pon, I've got mail!”
Hiroto went surprisingly limp at that, "You giv-" before abruptly continuing his struggle with renewed pizazz.
“Mail Pon, MAIL!” Tora groaned long-sufferingly in between rapidly rearranging limbs, managing to once again pin the other down. “I’ve got new mail!”
Tora was somehow on top again, Hiroto curled beneath him still trying to prise the elder from around his throat, or rather the forearm pressed to his cheek. “Tap out Pon, I don’t wanna make you pass out,” Tora chortled as he pressed Hiroto into the carpet.
“Nuuuuh,” his voice came out muffled and strained, still fighting back with the odd small noise escaping his lips every now and then. Finally though, with a high-pitched whimper against the floor, Hiroto caved.
Whooping victoriously, Tora jumped up and ambled over to check his emails. When he turned around five minutes later Hiroto was still kneeling on the ground, lower lip jutting in a profuse pout. The growing predicament in his pants didn't escape Tora's notice either.
“Oh, you like it rough do you?” Tora leered, slinking closer.
“Oh fuck off, you know very well how I like it,” Hiroto retorted with a sullen frown. He crossed his arms and grouched, doing his best to keep up the hurt pout and not blush at how hard he was from just a little roughhousing.
“Why yes, I do believe I know exactly how you like it,” Tora chuckled lowly, grabbing Hiroto by the hips and pressing him back onto their disheveled bed. Laughter slipped through the crease of their lips as his tongue explored the other’s mouth, Hiroto unable to hide his sheepish grin any longer.
By the time shirts and shorts were strewn across the floor, playful smirks were plastered across both their faces and Hiroto's embarrassment had long since evaporated up and out the door.
“Like this?” Tora breathed into his ear. He reached beneath them, grabbing the backs of Hiroto’s thighs and hauling him forward.
Breath hitching, Hiroto watched and felt Tora’s hands slide a teasing path up his ankles. “Yes,” he shuddered against the teasing light grind of the other’s hips against his. Their eyes met and the next second Tora was infinitely sorry they did.
“But you’ll have to fight me for it!”
“What?!” Suddenly Hiroto was squirming out of his grasp and sprinting naked across the room. "Wait Hiroto wha-?" Speech escaped Tora's mind as the other propped himself up, legs spread, on the desk.
“Mmmmmm, I think, “ Hiroto’s breath caught between swollen lips as his own slick fingers slid into himself, “I think you need to try harder before I do it myself.”
Ragged breaths punctuated Hiroto’s threat-challenge, lighting up the heated air of their bedroom as Tora watched, mouth agape and hard.
“Game on,” he growled, flying off the bed to take up chase.
---
Saga hummed a vague tune to himself. He was the bassist and yet somehow he was writing Tora a solo? Oh well. Making a face at the ungainly vibrations of his guitar, he swiveled in his seat to ask Hiroto for help - some added inspiration, something.
Eyes meeting an empty room, he placed his instrument on the ground and wandered down the hall in search of musical direction. Tora’s PC was in the bedroom right? Hiroto was apt to run off on a whim so he might as well ask the solo's guitarist himself. Although... Saga was beginning to wonder if either guitarist would be of any help today.
His suspicions were confirmed the closer he got to their bedroom.
“Oh come on you two! Were supposed to be working! Oh for the love of-,” Saga smacked a hand to his face as Hiroto released a long, unrestrained moan. Behind him Tora peeked innocently over a moist shoulder at their new arrival. His hands pinning Hiroto’s arms behind him however, were anything but innocent.
“You gave him bruises!” Saga wailed, pointing helplessly at Hiroto’s elbows, knees, hips, shoulders, neck.
Smirking devilishly, Tora released his hold on Hiroto's arms only to slam forward and pull back, drawing more pleased sounds from pursed lips.
“We're working,” he replied. “I’m making music,” Hiroto yelped this time, eyes seeing white and body clenching as Tora slid against just the right spot. “And,” the older guitarist continued with a soft moan, “Hiroto is translating and rearranging our compositions.” Skin met in another wet pop much to Saga’s chagrin and Hiroto’s fingers scrambled for purchase on the keyboard in front of him.
"You guys suck!" the bassist pouted, turning on his heels to pack and leave.
"Oh honey, do we ever."
"Wha- I AM GOING HOME!!"
A/N:
Boys and their wrestling lol.
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 042 Some Boys Touch (Goto Maki)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: fluff?, crack, smut, wrestling
Comments: Thank you thank you thanks to tingedwords for typing up my fail♥ :D
Monkey Business
There were quite a number of things Hiroto could have been doing - namely making music or at least making lunch - but his mind and body were in other places. Thumbs twiddling and toes kicking up the lint beneath his seat, he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and turned away from his laptop.
Outside a helicopter zoomed through the sky, propelling up wind with loud, violent claps Hiroto couldn't hear through the thick windows and his clunky headphones.
It was a nice day out.
Probably.
Taking the headphones off, he watched the noisy aircraft float away.
Helicopters look like fun, maybe we should all go for a ride someday.
A quick glance from his spot in the living room revealed Saga still sitting at the dining table, his own laptop out and headphones in as he strummed a few tentative chords. At his feet Chicken scratched at the carpet, purring and waiting for the bassist to take notice of his flicking tail and soft grey fur.
Hiroto puffed his cheeks out absentmindedly, setting his guitar on the floor before his lips broke out with an evil grin.
Tip-toeing down the hall, he gently eased the bedroom door open, knowing full well Tora would be hard at work on their PC. His silence was pointless however, not only did Tora have his headphones strapped on, a thick beanie had been shoved over his mess of hair and plastic.
For a moment Hiroto simply stood watching from the door. Tora seemed deep in thought, rearranging miscellaneous movies and mp3s, checking his emails and barely used blog.
All in all, it was turning out to be a very unproductive session on Team Guitar's part.
With the sudden speed and enthusiasm of a wild schoolboy, Hiroto bound across the bedroom and pounced.
“Yaaaahhhhh!” he cried, latching himself around Tora’s neck and applying pressure in mock headlock. Mostly confused and somewhat surprised, Tora made a confused-surprised grunt, straining to get off his rolly desk chair and away from his precious hoard of electronic media.
He literally picked Hiroto up by the arms wrapped around his neck and plowed him into their bed, a small “oopfh!” leaving the smaller man’s lips before he started squirming, hands still interlocked around Tora’s neck while the elder’s shoulder dug into his chest.
“Glasses! Glasses!” Tora reminded, struggling to pull Hiroto’s scrawny yet ridiculously persistent frame off his back - though he was practically lying on the mischievous man. Both of them refused to be the first to let go, two pairs of glasses sliding precariously low on noses and threatening to fall and crush amongst flailing limbs.
When his attempts to pull Tora’s glasses off with his bare toes failed, Hiroto bent forward and dislodged them with his teeth.
“Aww, ew! Hiroto! You got your spit all over my new glasses!” Tora whined, fingers still trying to peel the other's hands apart.
“Y-You don’t mind my spit on your dick!” Hiroto bit out, holding on for dear life.
“Point. Made,” Tora grimaced, starting to get a bit red in the face.
Elsewhere in the spacious flat, soft guitar twangs could be heard, but the only thing the two guitarists could hear was the blood rushing to their ears.
Digging his heels into the bedside carpet, Tora pushed his calves against the mattress's edge with a heave; briefly gaining enough momentum and leverage to stand up. The quick maneuver was enough to catch Hiroto off guard and give Tora the chance to circle the smaller man bodily around before they only again fell back onto the bed. He was still in a headlock (because damn but the squirrel wouldn’t let go), but now Hiroto was off his back and fully beneath him.
“Glasses! Glasses!” It was Hiroto’s turn to screech as Tora moved in for the kill.
Allowing the younger five seconds to put their glasses somewhere safe, Tora pulled off the headphones and hat he’d still been wearing (ripped straight out of the jack after Hiroto threw himself at the 'busy' guitarist) and tossed them to the ground. Hiroto barely had time to kick and scream before a heavy mass was overlapping and overshadowing him.
“GAH! You’re crushing me!”
It was pure luck Hiroto’s knee bent between them in time, but he was able to push Tora off all the same, although it took all his strength to do it. Seeing he had embarked on a failing venture, in a moment of sheer lucid genius, Hiroto made a run for it. He grabbed the edge of their queen-sized and flew.
“Oh it’s not over yet!!!” Tora bellowed, grabbing the other from behind before he could escape.
With a yelp Hiroto found himself the unwilling victim of a poorly planned plan gone mostly and completely wrong. Tora’s arms were relentless in their hold, now around his neck and head and hauling him back onto the bed. More vigorous wriggling only got Tora’s legs twisted in his and a mouthful of sheets.
Sun shone warmly in through the slats of their blinds, something Hiroto couldn't appreciate with his face smushed to the side. Incoherent grumbles and gibberish escaped their open bedroom, faint mewls and inarticulate testimony to Hiroto's sad attempts at scrambling out of Tora’s reach.
Hands wrapped knuckle tight around the older guitarist’s wrists, with the momentum of a considerable amount of flail and leg kicking Hiroto was only just able to tip them both off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
“Grrr,” he growled in a mildly nonthreatening huff. It really was a lost battle and he was just another hopeless cause. Although he was now lying on top of Tora, the other was curled tightly around him; arms still wrapped around his neck, knees at Hiroto’s waist and the rest of his legs stopping any other alleged footwork in a full-body hold.
“You give?” Tora asked from somewhere near his ear, chest vibrating against his back.
“No!” Hiroto scoffed belligerently, as if Tora should have known better. Sighing the other was 'forced' to hold on as the slow minutes past, Hiroto twisting and tugging in vain.
Off to the side, a short electronic bleep-blooped melody alerted the two tangled men of their computer's presence.
“You give now?”
“NO!”
“Aww come on Pon, I've got mail!”
Hiroto went surprisingly limp at that, "You giv-" before abruptly continuing his struggle with renewed pizazz.
“Mail Pon, MAIL!” Tora groaned long-sufferingly in between rapidly rearranging limbs, managing to once again pin the other down. “I’ve got new mail!”
Tora was somehow on top again, Hiroto curled beneath him still trying to prise the elder from around his throat, or rather the forearm pressed to his cheek. “Tap out Pon, I don’t wanna make you pass out,” Tora chortled as he pressed Hiroto into the carpet.
“Nuuuuh,” his voice came out muffled and strained, still fighting back with the odd small noise escaping his lips every now and then. Finally though, with a high-pitched whimper against the floor, Hiroto caved.
Whooping victoriously, Tora jumped up and ambled over to check his emails. When he turned around five minutes later Hiroto was still kneeling on the ground, lower lip jutting in a profuse pout. The growing predicament in his pants didn't escape Tora's notice either.
“Oh, you like it rough do you?” Tora leered, slinking closer.
“Oh fuck off, you know very well how I like it,” Hiroto retorted with a sullen frown. He crossed his arms and grouched, doing his best to keep up the hurt pout and not blush at how hard he was from just a little roughhousing.
“Why yes, I do believe I know exactly how you like it,” Tora chuckled lowly, grabbing Hiroto by the hips and pressing him back onto their disheveled bed. Laughter slipped through the crease of their lips as his tongue explored the other’s mouth, Hiroto unable to hide his sheepish grin any longer.
By the time shirts and shorts were strewn across the floor, playful smirks were plastered across both their faces and Hiroto's embarrassment had long since evaporated up and out the door.
“Like this?” Tora breathed into his ear. He reached beneath them, grabbing the backs of Hiroto’s thighs and hauling him forward.
Breath hitching, Hiroto watched and felt Tora’s hands slide a teasing path up his ankles. “Yes,” he shuddered against the teasing light grind of the other’s hips against his. Their eyes met and the next second Tora was infinitely sorry they did.
“But you’ll have to fight me for it!”
“What?!” Suddenly Hiroto was squirming out of his grasp and sprinting naked across the room. "Wait Hiroto wha-?" Speech escaped Tora's mind as the other propped himself up, legs spread, on the desk.
“Mmmmmm, I think, “ Hiroto’s breath caught between swollen lips as his own slick fingers slid into himself, “I think you need to try harder before I do it myself.”
Ragged breaths punctuated Hiroto’s threat-challenge, lighting up the heated air of their bedroom as Tora watched, mouth agape and hard.
“Game on,” he growled, flying off the bed to take up chase.
---
Saga hummed a vague tune to himself. He was the bassist and yet somehow he was writing Tora a solo? Oh well. Making a face at the ungainly vibrations of his guitar, he swiveled in his seat to ask Hiroto for help - some added inspiration, something.
Eyes meeting an empty room, he placed his instrument on the ground and wandered down the hall in search of musical direction. Tora’s PC was in the bedroom right? Hiroto was apt to run off on a whim so he might as well ask the solo's guitarist himself. Although... Saga was beginning to wonder if either guitarist would be of any help today.
His suspicions were confirmed the closer he got to their bedroom.
“Oh come on you two! Were supposed to be working! Oh for the love of-,” Saga smacked a hand to his face as Hiroto released a long, unrestrained moan. Behind him Tora peeked innocently over a moist shoulder at their new arrival. His hands pinning Hiroto’s arms behind him however, were anything but innocent.
“You gave him bruises!” Saga wailed, pointing helplessly at Hiroto’s elbows, knees, hips, shoulders, neck.
Smirking devilishly, Tora released his hold on Hiroto's arms only to slam forward and pull back, drawing more pleased sounds from pursed lips.
“We're working,” he replied. “I’m making music,” Hiroto yelped this time, eyes seeing white and body clenching as Tora slid against just the right spot. “And,” the older guitarist continued with a soft moan, “Hiroto is translating and rearranging our compositions.” Skin met in another wet pop much to Saga’s chagrin and Hiroto’s fingers scrambled for purchase on the keyboard in front of him.
"You guys suck!" the bassist pouted, turning on his heels to pack and leave.
"Oh honey, do we ever."
"Wha- I AM GOING HOME!!"
A/N:
Boys and their wrestling lol.
Archive