Sakuraiba Smut: 3:21
Sho was led down the hallway of his apartment, fingers of his left hand loosely tangled with those of Aiba's right. The curtains in the living room were open; a hazy glow from the street lights below threw soft shadows across the parquet floor. A soft hiss filtered through the glass as a hard rain started to fall. Aside from the hush of the pelting raindrops, the only sounds in the one bedroom apartment were the tackiness of their bare feet on the floor and the gentle sigh of their breaths.
Aiba led Sho through the dark to the bedroom, stopping at the foot of the double bed and tugged the older man forward to sit on the down comforter. Aiba reached for the buckle of Sho's belt and smiled as Sho rolled from side to side, lifting one hip then the other, so that Aiba could divest him of his stonewashed Calvin Klein’s. Standing between naked knees, he skated his palms up the broad plains of Sho's chest and lost his fingers in the fine, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Sho leaned his head back into the touch, eyes falling closed as long fingers soothed away the day's tension. Aiba rested his forearms on Sho's shoulders as he reached behind and untied the knot of the sling they had all signed with well-wishes and jibes at Sho's athletic ability. Balancing one knee on the mattress, straddling Sho's thigh, he reached down for the hem of the baby pink t-shirt and pulled it up over Sho's head, pausing to carefully extract his right hand from the sleeve.
"I'm not going to break if you touch me," whispered Sho as he leaned forward to hook his index finger through Aiba's belt loop.
Aiba took a sharp breath as the warm hand skirted under his white Oxford shirt, resting on his belly. "I am just trying to be careful," he said, words tripping as soft fingers dipped into his belly button and played with his waist. "I’m just here to get you into bed. You really need your rest; you'll heal faster."
"I'm not tired." He wrapped his arm around Aiba's hips, pulling the taller man closer. Delicate fingers returned to thread through Sho's hair, brushing thumbs across cheeks and earlobes.
"You know I shouldn't stay," said Aiba, tone gentle like a parent to a child.
"I know I want you to."
Aiba looked down at the dark head leaning against his stomach. He felt Sho's arm tense around him as his hand clutched tighter at his jeans; he could feel Sho clenching his jaw.
"Is it bad?"
"It's fine."
"Liar. I can feel you grinding your teeth against my stomach. You're not that great of an actor." Sho pressed closer into Aiba, burying his face in the fine cotton of his shirt. Aiba's hands stilled, cradling the back of his head. Sho let out an exasperated growl and gripped Aiba's slim frame tighter.
"It just hurts so fucking much. I could handle being handicapped for a while if the pain would just go away."
"Believe me, I know. But that's the way it is. You just have to suffer through. You just have to keep busy and distract yourself from the pain."
Sho lifted his face from Aiba's stomach and looked straight into his eyes. "Then distract me."
Even in the pitch of the bedroom, he could see Sho's pupils were dilated and hazy, pleading with pain. And lust? His hold on Sho's face firmed; he had never been able to resist that look. Sho's brow furrowed delicately as he released his lower lip from its confinement between his teeth, pink, plump and shining. "...please?"
Never one to neglect a boyfriend in need, Aiba tipped Sho’s head back and leaned down to press their lips together. The kiss was slow and controlled; Aiba swept his tongue along that inviting lip and inside, leaning his partner further back. The tension that had built up in the jaw under his fingertips drained away as Aiba directed the kiss. He was strong and supportive while being caressing and gentle. When he pulled away only far enough to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Sho’s, he heard a soft but very distinct whine.
“Don’t stop. I’m still thinking,” Sho mumbled against Aiba’s lips. He brought his good hand around and fisted it in the front of Aiba’s shirt.
“Insatiable kitty,” Aiba responded with a grin. Sho deigned not to dignify that with a verbal response, tugging his band mate to close the miniscule distance and resumed the kissing. Sho’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of Aiba’s shirt. It was hard enough trying to undo them with his left hand, but his mind clouded with want made the task nearly impossible.
“Help me,” whispered Sho, between kisses. Aiba brushed the pads of his thumbs over Sho’s pink cheeks one last time before nudging the hand away from his shirt. While he slipped the small white buttons through their holes, from the bottom up, Sho fumbled with Aiba’s belt. His jeans were well worn and soft under his hand, making it easy enough to pop the button and pull down the zipper. Sho went about pushing Aiba’s jeans down his narrow hips until he let out a frustrated grunt. “You. Pants off. Now.”
Aiba shed his jeans and kicked them across the floor in the general direction of the rest of their clothing. Sho shimmied backwards awkwardly to lie in the middle of the mattress, breathing hard with the combined effort of moving and the kissing. Aiba crawled across slowly, afraid that any sharp and sudden movements might cause them to capsize. He crawled up and over Sho’s hard body, leaving the rapper with no doubt that he was hard too. He gently pushed Sho’s cast-covered arm above his head to rest on the pillows, gripping his elbow firmly as if to say, “This stays here.” Aiba toyed with Sho’s bottom lip before moving along his jaw, under his ear, across his shoulder, down his chest, over his stomach.
As Aiba lamented the loss of Sho’s navel ring, fingers combed through his hair, posing a silent entreaty. He palmed Sho through the threadbare cotton boxers he wore and the fingers curled happily at the nape of his neck. He heard a quiet moan and a sigh come from Sho as he peeled the last stitch of clothing from his body. Settling between Sho’s thighs, he looked up at his face as he wrapped his long fingers around Sho’s hard flesh: the older man’s eyes closed, dark lashes fanned across his peachy cheeks, his tongue darting out to wet his already moist lips, as Aiba slid his hand up and down his cock. Sho’s brow creased as he concentrated on the hand pumping his cock, a breathy moan falling off his tongue as Aiba ran his thumb over the tip and spread the bead of pre-cum down the shaft. The sight before him made Aiba’s own cock ache.
Once Sho began to squirm, Aiba knew he was close. His left hand was wrapped up in the duvet cover, his right still obediently resting on the pillows. His abdomen was flexing with the strain of trying not to thrust up into Aiba’s hand. Aiba bent down to lick the length, casting hot breathes across the flushed skin. Sho was already so close, too close, the suction of Aiba’s mouth on his cock pushed him right over the edge, making the most unintelligent and sexy noises from the back of his throat.
Aiba continued to run his tongue languidly up and down Sho’s length until the spasms and aftershocks subsided and then continued his decent. He dotted kisses across the plains of Sho’s inner thighs as he slid his hands under Sho’s knees and lifted them to his chest. Sho twitched as Aiba tongued his perineum, his lower half still tingling and sensitive from orgasm. He gasped as Aiba licked a long stripe between his cheeks.
“Sho, can you reach the drawer?” Sho stretched his hand out and his fingers grazed the knob of the bedside table a few times before managing to yank it open, retrieving the bottle inside. Aiba popped the cap and coated his fingers, sliding them back into Sho, in and out, in and out, in a slow and steady rhythm. He hooked his two fingers and found that secret spot, causing Sho to cry out something incoherent. Having hardly had the chance to come down, he was already hard again with the attention Aiba paid to his prostate.
“Masaki… please, I want-” Sho’s voice hitched on the last syllable of his name has he removed his fingers. He leaned up and silenced the older man with a kiss, checking to make sure the injured hand was still safely tucked above Sho’s head.
Reaching down to his own throbbing organ, he lubed himself with a few quick, firm strokes before nudging Sho’s entrance. He leaned forward, tenderly easing his way in, resisting the urge to bury himself completely with one quick hard thrust, as he might normally. He did not want to be held responsible for any further injuries to Sho’s body.
“God, please go faster. I’m not made of glass,” Sho whimpered into Aiba’s ear as he wrapped his legs around his waist.
Not needing to be told twice, Aiba established a firm driving rhythm, hands planted on either side of Sho’s shoulders. The repeated pressure on his spot had Sho coming again, harder than the first time, splashing both their stomachs. The hiss of the rain on the windows, the heat of Sho’s skin and stickiness between them, the way he was clenched tight around him, the moist breath in his ear as Sho tried not to cry out as he came, had Aiba seeing stars and shooting deep into the body beneath him.
Aiba propped himself on his forearms and looked at Sho’s flushed face, glowing in the grey light of the bedroom with a sheen of sweat as he paused to catch his breath for the second time that night. He went to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth to clean up as much as was absolutely necessary; he didn’t have the energy to assist Sho in the shower just yet. He watched as the features in Sho’s round face softened and relaxed, his breathing evening out, as the mess was wiped from his creamy skin. He nudged Sho and helped him wriggle under the duvet before he fell unconscious.
“Does it still hurt?” Aiba murmured against the back of Sho’s neck as he embraced the slack figure from behind, ever careful of the cast. A non-verbal noise of contentment came from Sho followed be the regulated breathing of his first REM cycle. Aiba grinned. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”