arashi fiction 47 - bust a move.
Title: Appeal
Who: Jun/Nino
Rating: R (for being sexay)
Summary: There are things about Nino that drive Jun mad.
Notes: Requested by k_is_for_taty. I hope this is close enough to what you had in mind. <3
At sixteen years old, Matsumoto Jun learned the reason why Ohno Satoshi never wore tight pants. From there it was easy to understand the many traps within the idol industry, the triggers for untimely erections and vivid wet dreams.
He knew that it was his job to appear as if he'd be ready for sex if a woman crooked her finger and whispered "c'mere." When he'd matured and grown cocky, his image redirected, he made sure he was the one with a practiced come hither, the illusion of a man who had women on their knees.
But real sex was something that was never, ever to be mentioned. Real sex was for real people, not a symbol, not a dream.
Ninomiya Kazunari oozed sex in a way that wasn't. Sex appeal that wasn't appealing. A sexy that Jun couldn't possibly comprehend, because it was sexy that didn't make any sense.
It was a sexy that pissed Jun off.
Jun knew to which things he was meant to be immune. He'd memorized the list. Tight pants, boyish smiles, fireworks, suggestive humor, and pelvic thrusts to name a few.
But Nino was forcing a new list upon him. And the Nino list grew everyday.
baby got hunchback
It wasn't unusual, but he couldn't help but notice that for an idol... Nino had terrible posture. He was good about hiding it on television if he could help it. At concerts a little less so. Behind the scenes he might as well have given up on not looking like Quasimodo.
It felt like a pet peeve, the way it nagged at him. There was something not quite right about Nino sitting that way. It made his chest tight, probably part of being a perfectionist. Like a ring of liquid left by tea on a perfectly clean table - Jun wanted to step in and... something.
"They wanted me to tell you they had a new t-shirt selection, but I knew you weren't really into those right now," Aiba conversed calmly with Sho from his spot on the armrest beside Nino. He placed an arm around Nino's shoulders without thought, no awkward motion. Jun couldn't hear him, ipod headphones in firmly and a movie score surrounding him - a good way to clear his thoughts. Normally.
He watched the curve of Aiba's arm as it settled to accommodate equally curved back. Really, Jun thought, they'd not be forced to pull in hard, plastic chairs to dressing rooms if they learned how to conserve space a little. Giving Sho a spot on the sofa for the day was a kind gesture, giving him a spot on the sofa permanently would be nicer. Why sit beside Nino when you could easily fit behind him?
Jun could give up his end cushion for the chair. If seated the right way, Nino could easily fit in between his legs.
Nino would lean forward, maybe playing his DS, maybe just staring at the floor with that contemplative look he wore now and then. If it was a bad morning, as mornings in general tended to be for Jun, he could lean forward too. Nino's spine would be sticking out for certain, but his shoulder blades were flat and soft, just asking to be used as a make-shift pillow.
He'd have to wrap his arms around the man's waist, of course. If he was leaning forward, his arms would likely be squished. Or dangle awkwardly. Or be placed on either armrest as if he was just an extension of the chair itself. Instead, he'd settle his hands carefully, one over Nino's heart, the other above his abdomen.
If it was one of those bad mornings turned good, as they would surely be when in such a comfortable position, maybe he could thank Nino with a kiss to the the temple. But no one really felt a temple-kiss was all that satisfying, so a few more would be necessary as a proper thank you. Feather-light kisses that brushed ear lobes and tickled the jawline.
And if Nino was receptive, he'd stop paying attention to his games or his shoes, and he'd pay attention to Jun. He'd lift his head and stretch his neck, just asking for Jun to nuzzle and nip, morning kisses... kisses that held promise but maybe not immediately.
Unless it was a bad morning for Nino too. Then he might not see reason for mercy. He might make noises, soft ones, noises that came from the back of the throat and traveled to quivering lips.
Fuck.
Aiba gestured to Sho vaguely, fingers twitching against Nino's shoulder, but Nino was looking at Jun now, returning his gaze with one eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"Sit like an idol," Jun spat, heat coloring his cheeks as he glanced down at his ipod, suddenly very interested in making sure the back light wasn't eating up the charge. And really, the song he was listening to would sound much better on the classic setting, not rock.
to see and be seen
He wasn't going to deny the man a basic need, but there were times he really wished Nino would stop wearing glasses to work.
He couldn't lay claim to accessories. Somewhere in his mind, where truths liked to hide, he could admit that he attempted it on a regular basis. The guys could wear rings, but he'd wear several. They might dare to be flashy with a custom belt-buckle, but they couldn't possibly pull off the art of hats indoors. Jun was a specialist.
The part of him that liked to organize and collect found it enjoyable. The part of him that considered this just another effect of gracing the covers of fashion magazines thought it essential to his career.
Nino wore scarves flawlessly, and when he did it grabbed attention. Jun was willing to let that slide. He didn't want to be more popular than his band mates, he wanted to be as popular. There had to be a balance.
But when Nino had reason to put on a pair of glasses, that... that was annoying.
Because Nino wore them better, at least in Jun's opinion. Jun couldn't stop staring at a Nino in glasses.
"Have you not invested in contacts yet?" Jun tried to keep his tone even, slowing his walking pace to sync with Nino's steps.
"I don't see a point in it," Nino countered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.
"Why not?"
He'd asked the question, it would only be polite to listen to the answer. And somewhere his brain was registering something about not needing his vision corrected all the time, and cost comparisons, and maybe even something about readers being polled, but he couldn't seem to focus on any of it.
Nino liked to flip his hair, not in a feminine way, just enough to get it away from his face. He was doing it now, clearly wanting it out of his eyes. Every time his head jerked, Jun's eyes snapped to the glasses, stylish frames accenting a deep, dark brown.
He could brush the hair out of Nino's eyes for him, it would only take a second. His hand would reach forward and push back, his fingers would curl around a cute ear, maybe rest there. His free hand could remove what bothered him for being so attractive, pulling Nino's glasses off gently.
He'd look into Nino's eyes and not be able to read them. Confusion, irritation, maybe both... his irises were clear, but still easy to get lost in. Worthy of some kind of metaphoric phrasing, an enigma.
He'd ask Jun what he thought he was doing, but Jun wouldn't be thinking about doing anything - he'd be doing it already, pressing closer, that hand at Nino's ear sliding to grip the back of his head and keep the man steady. And then he'd stop looking and start feeling, letting his own eyes fall out of focus in a lust-filled haze, taking the air from Nino's lungs with mere pulls of his lips.
God damn it.
"Look, if you'd feel better with these, you can have them," Nino laughed, pulling his glasses off and handing them over.
Jun took them, staring dumbly, trying to figure out what exactly he'd just missed. By the time he looked up, Nino was a good distance ahead of him, stretching his arms to tug at Ohno's shirt.
"I better get those back," he called, turning his head slightly to fix Jun with a smirk.
who wears short shorts
It used to bother him. Those days where things were out of whack.
Pants, pants, pants, pants... shorts.
They were trying to present themselves as a team and one person was throwing off the balanced look. Maybe, if another member were to wear shorts, or if they all wore shorts (but then... Jun would never be caught dead in the swishy... static cling in your crotch pairs), then it would be acceptable. But it was usually Nino, and Nino alone, completely disrupting their image with his signature VS Arashi style.
Of course, now that the weather had grown colder, he'd taken to wearing pants like the rest of them. Pants of questionable taste, with patterns that could blind the elderly, but pants that properly covered... and if didn't, were paired with socks that did.
Now he missed them.
Missed them to such an extent that he'd talked to the stylists about letting him wear them, as an expression of self and for the sake of consistency of character, shuffling away in embarrassment when the stylists talked amongst themselves about Jun having 'one of those days'.
Though Jun's form of embarrassment was pulling his hat down over his eyes and scowling for at least ten minutes.
"You shouldn't take everything onto your shoulders, Matsujun," he heard Ohno's voice behind him, raising a hand to signal he appreciated the thought, but wasn't really in the mood to discuss it.
A complicated and meaningful hand signal, that was mostly just him snapping his wrist, but Ohno understood. Years of practice, or maybe the rings, told him when not to interfere.
Nino liked to pretend not to see signs like that.
"Be honest, Jun-kun," he started, leaning against the back of Jun's chair, his breath tickling at Jun's nape, "you want to take over the world. One outfit at a time."
Nino wouldn't be laughing if he knew that Jun had spent the last five minutes envisioning his legs. They were unexpectedly cute when you saw them in pants, the shapes of his thighs and the way they perfectly suited the rest of his body. In pants they were adorable, but in shorts... some odd shift took place. Where thighs were hidden, but calves were exposed, smooth and muscle and a kind of athletic build that only Nino could be.
If Nino wore shorts, then Jun could point out how different he was being, different from the rest of the group. He could literally point, his finger would touch skin and he could trace the lines that formed when Nino tensed.
He'd be low to the ground, no fear of seeing Nino's expression as he moved from leg to the back of the knee. Had anyone ever tried to kiss there? Lick just out of curiosity? To see if the taste was different from anywhere else, maybe saltier, maybe surprisingly sweet? He could do that and Nino's legs would tremble. He'd have to move them to a sofa, no a bed... to keep exploring, keep tracing, until there was no choice but for the shorts to come off.
And then he'd be a winner. The shorts would be rid off, and Nino would be obliging to his whims when his hands caressed inner thigh and then a bit higher. Or he wouldn't. He'd writhe underneath Jun's fingertips, the hint of a struggle for play. Jun could grin and pull back, finally meet his eyes. Nino would look at him expectantly, waiting for Jun to speak.
"I love your legs."
Shit.
if you want it
"You love my legs?" Nino echoed, chuckling and moving around the chair, plopping himself into Jun's lap as if he'd just made a fantastic joke.
Jun had the decency to be mortified when Nino froze.
"You love my legs," Nino spoke again, slowly shifting as Jun failed to stop a groan.
"I love your legs," Jun admitted once more, softly and with eyes shut tight.
"I see."
It was silent for a moment, a moment where neither of them moved, squished together in a chair and oblivious to the bandmates watching with (intrigue, horror, delight) clear on their faces.
Jun's eyes flashed open suddenly when Nino's thumb pressed strangely at his lips. Without warning, firmly. He felt his heart pound hard in his chest.
His tongue seemed to act against his better judgment, poking through to wet the digit, slowly retreating to his mouth again. His breath hitched as Nino smiled, dragging his thumb down the length of his neck.
"What else do you like about me?" Nino asked, eyes fixed on the collar of Jun's shirt.
It would probably take awhile to explain it.
But at least Jun was ready with a list.
Who: Jun/Nino
Rating: R (for being sexay)
Summary: There are things about Nino that drive Jun mad.
Notes: Requested by k_is_for_taty. I hope this is close enough to what you had in mind. <3
At sixteen years old, Matsumoto Jun learned the reason why Ohno Satoshi never wore tight pants. From there it was easy to understand the many traps within the idol industry, the triggers for untimely erections and vivid wet dreams.
He knew that it was his job to appear as if he'd be ready for sex if a woman crooked her finger and whispered "c'mere." When he'd matured and grown cocky, his image redirected, he made sure he was the one with a practiced come hither, the illusion of a man who had women on their knees.
But real sex was something that was never, ever to be mentioned. Real sex was for real people, not a symbol, not a dream.
Ninomiya Kazunari oozed sex in a way that wasn't. Sex appeal that wasn't appealing. A sexy that Jun couldn't possibly comprehend, because it was sexy that didn't make any sense.
It was a sexy that pissed Jun off.
Jun knew to which things he was meant to be immune. He'd memorized the list. Tight pants, boyish smiles, fireworks, suggestive humor, and pelvic thrusts to name a few.
But Nino was forcing a new list upon him. And the Nino list grew everyday.
baby got hunchback
It wasn't unusual, but he couldn't help but notice that for an idol... Nino had terrible posture. He was good about hiding it on television if he could help it. At concerts a little less so. Behind the scenes he might as well have given up on not looking like Quasimodo.
It felt like a pet peeve, the way it nagged at him. There was something not quite right about Nino sitting that way. It made his chest tight, probably part of being a perfectionist. Like a ring of liquid left by tea on a perfectly clean table - Jun wanted to step in and... something.
"They wanted me to tell you they had a new t-shirt selection, but I knew you weren't really into those right now," Aiba conversed calmly with Sho from his spot on the armrest beside Nino. He placed an arm around Nino's shoulders without thought, no awkward motion. Jun couldn't hear him, ipod headphones in firmly and a movie score surrounding him - a good way to clear his thoughts. Normally.
He watched the curve of Aiba's arm as it settled to accommodate equally curved back. Really, Jun thought, they'd not be forced to pull in hard, plastic chairs to dressing rooms if they learned how to conserve space a little. Giving Sho a spot on the sofa for the day was a kind gesture, giving him a spot on the sofa permanently would be nicer. Why sit beside Nino when you could easily fit behind him?
Jun could give up his end cushion for the chair. If seated the right way, Nino could easily fit in between his legs.
Nino would lean forward, maybe playing his DS, maybe just staring at the floor with that contemplative look he wore now and then. If it was a bad morning, as mornings in general tended to be for Jun, he could lean forward too. Nino's spine would be sticking out for certain, but his shoulder blades were flat and soft, just asking to be used as a make-shift pillow.
He'd have to wrap his arms around the man's waist, of course. If he was leaning forward, his arms would likely be squished. Or dangle awkwardly. Or be placed on either armrest as if he was just an extension of the chair itself. Instead, he'd settle his hands carefully, one over Nino's heart, the other above his abdomen.
If it was one of those bad mornings turned good, as they would surely be when in such a comfortable position, maybe he could thank Nino with a kiss to the the temple. But no one really felt a temple-kiss was all that satisfying, so a few more would be necessary as a proper thank you. Feather-light kisses that brushed ear lobes and tickled the jawline.
And if Nino was receptive, he'd stop paying attention to his games or his shoes, and he'd pay attention to Jun. He'd lift his head and stretch his neck, just asking for Jun to nuzzle and nip, morning kisses... kisses that held promise but maybe not immediately.
Unless it was a bad morning for Nino too. Then he might not see reason for mercy. He might make noises, soft ones, noises that came from the back of the throat and traveled to quivering lips.
Fuck.
Aiba gestured to Sho vaguely, fingers twitching against Nino's shoulder, but Nino was looking at Jun now, returning his gaze with one eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"Sit like an idol," Jun spat, heat coloring his cheeks as he glanced down at his ipod, suddenly very interested in making sure the back light wasn't eating up the charge. And really, the song he was listening to would sound much better on the classic setting, not rock.
to see and be seen
He wasn't going to deny the man a basic need, but there were times he really wished Nino would stop wearing glasses to work.
He couldn't lay claim to accessories. Somewhere in his mind, where truths liked to hide, he could admit that he attempted it on a regular basis. The guys could wear rings, but he'd wear several. They might dare to be flashy with a custom belt-buckle, but they couldn't possibly pull off the art of hats indoors. Jun was a specialist.
The part of him that liked to organize and collect found it enjoyable. The part of him that considered this just another effect of gracing the covers of fashion magazines thought it essential to his career.
Nino wore scarves flawlessly, and when he did it grabbed attention. Jun was willing to let that slide. He didn't want to be more popular than his band mates, he wanted to be as popular. There had to be a balance.
But when Nino had reason to put on a pair of glasses, that... that was annoying.
Because Nino wore them better, at least in Jun's opinion. Jun couldn't stop staring at a Nino in glasses.
"Have you not invested in contacts yet?" Jun tried to keep his tone even, slowing his walking pace to sync with Nino's steps.
"I don't see a point in it," Nino countered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.
"Why not?"
He'd asked the question, it would only be polite to listen to the answer. And somewhere his brain was registering something about not needing his vision corrected all the time, and cost comparisons, and maybe even something about readers being polled, but he couldn't seem to focus on any of it.
Nino liked to flip his hair, not in a feminine way, just enough to get it away from his face. He was doing it now, clearly wanting it out of his eyes. Every time his head jerked, Jun's eyes snapped to the glasses, stylish frames accenting a deep, dark brown.
He could brush the hair out of Nino's eyes for him, it would only take a second. His hand would reach forward and push back, his fingers would curl around a cute ear, maybe rest there. His free hand could remove what bothered him for being so attractive, pulling Nino's glasses off gently.
He'd look into Nino's eyes and not be able to read them. Confusion, irritation, maybe both... his irises were clear, but still easy to get lost in. Worthy of some kind of metaphoric phrasing, an enigma.
He'd ask Jun what he thought he was doing, but Jun wouldn't be thinking about doing anything - he'd be doing it already, pressing closer, that hand at Nino's ear sliding to grip the back of his head and keep the man steady. And then he'd stop looking and start feeling, letting his own eyes fall out of focus in a lust-filled haze, taking the air from Nino's lungs with mere pulls of his lips.
God damn it.
"Look, if you'd feel better with these, you can have them," Nino laughed, pulling his glasses off and handing them over.
Jun took them, staring dumbly, trying to figure out what exactly he'd just missed. By the time he looked up, Nino was a good distance ahead of him, stretching his arms to tug at Ohno's shirt.
"I better get those back," he called, turning his head slightly to fix Jun with a smirk.
who wears short shorts
It used to bother him. Those days where things were out of whack.
Pants, pants, pants, pants... shorts.
They were trying to present themselves as a team and one person was throwing off the balanced look. Maybe, if another member were to wear shorts, or if they all wore shorts (but then... Jun would never be caught dead in the swishy... static cling in your crotch pairs), then it would be acceptable. But it was usually Nino, and Nino alone, completely disrupting their image with his signature VS Arashi style.
Of course, now that the weather had grown colder, he'd taken to wearing pants like the rest of them. Pants of questionable taste, with patterns that could blind the elderly, but pants that properly covered... and if didn't, were paired with socks that did.
Now he missed them.
Missed them to such an extent that he'd talked to the stylists about letting him wear them, as an expression of self and for the sake of consistency of character, shuffling away in embarrassment when the stylists talked amongst themselves about Jun having 'one of those days'.
Though Jun's form of embarrassment was pulling his hat down over his eyes and scowling for at least ten minutes.
"You shouldn't take everything onto your shoulders, Matsujun," he heard Ohno's voice behind him, raising a hand to signal he appreciated the thought, but wasn't really in the mood to discuss it.
A complicated and meaningful hand signal, that was mostly just him snapping his wrist, but Ohno understood. Years of practice, or maybe the rings, told him when not to interfere.
Nino liked to pretend not to see signs like that.
"Be honest, Jun-kun," he started, leaning against the back of Jun's chair, his breath tickling at Jun's nape, "you want to take over the world. One outfit at a time."
Nino wouldn't be laughing if he knew that Jun had spent the last five minutes envisioning his legs. They were unexpectedly cute when you saw them in pants, the shapes of his thighs and the way they perfectly suited the rest of his body. In pants they were adorable, but in shorts... some odd shift took place. Where thighs were hidden, but calves were exposed, smooth and muscle and a kind of athletic build that only Nino could be.
If Nino wore shorts, then Jun could point out how different he was being, different from the rest of the group. He could literally point, his finger would touch skin and he could trace the lines that formed when Nino tensed.
He'd be low to the ground, no fear of seeing Nino's expression as he moved from leg to the back of the knee. Had anyone ever tried to kiss there? Lick just out of curiosity? To see if the taste was different from anywhere else, maybe saltier, maybe surprisingly sweet? He could do that and Nino's legs would tremble. He'd have to move them to a sofa, no a bed... to keep exploring, keep tracing, until there was no choice but for the shorts to come off.
And then he'd be a winner. The shorts would be rid off, and Nino would be obliging to his whims when his hands caressed inner thigh and then a bit higher. Or he wouldn't. He'd writhe underneath Jun's fingertips, the hint of a struggle for play. Jun could grin and pull back, finally meet his eyes. Nino would look at him expectantly, waiting for Jun to speak.
"I love your legs."
Shit.
if you want it
"You love my legs?" Nino echoed, chuckling and moving around the chair, plopping himself into Jun's lap as if he'd just made a fantastic joke.
Jun had the decency to be mortified when Nino froze.
"You love my legs," Nino spoke again, slowly shifting as Jun failed to stop a groan.
"I love your legs," Jun admitted once more, softly and with eyes shut tight.
"I see."
It was silent for a moment, a moment where neither of them moved, squished together in a chair and oblivious to the bandmates watching with (intrigue, horror, delight) clear on their faces.
Jun's eyes flashed open suddenly when Nino's thumb pressed strangely at his lips. Without warning, firmly. He felt his heart pound hard in his chest.
His tongue seemed to act against his better judgment, poking through to wet the digit, slowly retreating to his mouth again. His breath hitched as Nino smiled, dragging his thumb down the length of his neck.
"What else do you like about me?" Nino asked, eyes fixed on the collar of Jun's shirt.
It would probably take awhile to explain it.
But at least Jun was ready with a list.