Ohmiya One-shot: In-Flight Service
Title: In-Flight Service
Originally published here - 2008.03.04
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,023
Summary: In-flight handjob. Oh yeah.
Notes: I wrote this on Sunday as I nursed a hangover. I may still have been drunk, coming up with an idea like this.
2008 started off with a bang. The last two months had been jam packed with nothing but work, work and more work. PV shoot, CM shoots, TV appearances, radio shows, filming movies, an art show, the regular slew of magazine shoots and interviews, and of course taping Arashi no Shukudai-kun, Tensai! Shimura Dobutsuen, and News Zero. The boys barely had time to take a shit, let alone eat or sleep. And now, they had just announced plans for a summer concert tour. Promotions for that were starting before they even had time to internalize it.
Arashi now found themselves sandwiched into business class seats on JAL flight 3047 bound for Sapporo. They were off to do a photo spread for some magazine (they had long stopped caring which publication they were shooting for) involving snow, or what remained, somehow. Jun was not thrilled: snow was cold, it got into your clothes and hair and made everything wet. Unless he was in a pool or in the ocean, Jun did not enjoy being wet. Aiba's effervescent child-like wonder piqued at the mention of snow, infecting Sho in the process. Perhaps they'd be able to do some snowboarding (or sliding down the mountain on your ass, in Sho’s case) before spring hit. Nino went along with the same bland enthusiasm he approached everything with: work was work. It got in the way of his game; he would get it done so he could finish saving the princess. Ohno was bubbling with the success of Freestyle and had a refreshed drive for work. He had always liked drawing but knowing that other people had loved his work so much gave him even more inspiration to create.
They were on the first flight out of Narita Airport, something which no one was happy about. At times like these, their manager was a hard ass. Being in the Japanese entertainment business, especially working for Johnny's Entertainment, you had to be. Arashi weren't trouble makers - they all took their work seriously. But boys will be boys and they could get rowdy and misbehave sometimes. They were human, after all. This morning had been especially trying, getting five comatose men into the company van before sunrise.
Jun sat next to the window on the right side of the plane, head resting on the fibreglass paneling of the Boeing 767, glasses sliding down his nose as he tried to resume sleep. Aiba occupied the aisle seat, lean legs obstructing part of the aisle causing the stewardess to step over him. He was hugging one of the airplane pillows tightly, in lieu of pet or person, chin resting on his chest with a trucker hat pulled down low over his eyes. Sho sat in the row in front beside their manager, who was busily consulting the day's schedule on his Blackberry. Sho read the morning edition of the paper while sipping on the airline’s signature brew, imagining jet fuel must taste the same. Across the aisle from Aiba, a bespectacled Nino sat with headphones on, playing his DS. He was awake anyway, so he thought he might as well work on his game. He only had to collect a few more items before he could face the big boss. Ohno rounded out the group, taking the window seat beside Nino. He leaned back into the head rest, resting his eyes. It was too early to even think; it was unnatural for people to be up so early. There was only an hour before they landed in Sapporo and the day really had to begin, so he tried to get as much precious sleep as possible.
Ohno shifted in his seat. Despite being in business, he felt confined by his chair. Did these things get smaller since the last time he flew? He tried putting his pillow behind his head, between his shoulder blades, on his lumbar, under his butt. He crossed his legs, crossed his ankles, shucked off his shoes. No matter what he tried, he could not get comfortable.
The speed with which Nino’s hand made contact with Ohno’s thigh made an audible slap that caused Aiba to toss in his sleep, murmuring something about his dog.
“Stop.”
“But, I can’t -”
Nino’s hand squeezed the thigh harder. “Just stop.”
Ohno pouted. Was it his fault that he couldn’t get comfortable? No matter how far back the chair reclined, he just couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t curled up in the foetal position, lying on his left side nestled against a wall or warm body. Ohno felt, rather than saw, how dangerously close Nino’s hand was to the fly of his jeans. Well, there was one thing that always helped him sleep.
Nino’s DS reclaimed the hand, much to Ohno’s displeasure. This wouldn’t do. He had to re-establish contact. Ohno lifted the armrest separating the two seats and swung his legs across Nino’s lap. Nino rested his elbows on Ohno’s shins, a habit picked up after many years of being in close proximity to one another. Ohno picked up the airline blanket of the cabin floor that was discarded in his attempt to get comfortable and draped it over both sets of limbs.
Nino’s fingers stilled on their buttons has he suddenly felt something like toes crawling up his right inner thigh. Ohno’s toes were rubbing his crotch through his sweat pants. Ohno’s toes were giving him a hard on in business class of Japan Airlines with the rest of Arashi sitting across the aisle.
Nino glared at his assailant. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
“I can’t sleep.” Ohno replied as if the answer was plainly obvious.
“And how is wriggling your toes in my pants supposed to help that?”
Ohno replied with an evil grin. Nino could count the number of times he’d seen that grin on one hand. It usually surfaced when Ohno drank too much, or when he was particularly horny. Since it wasn’t even six a.m. yet, and they hadn’t gone drinking the night before, Nino guessed it was the latter.
Ohno shimmied his butt closer to Nino, drawing the knee of one leg up while the toes of the other continued to draw lazy circles on the inside of Nino’s thigh. He slipped a hand under the blanket and slid it hand up the other thigh at a glacial pace, while resting his chin on the slighter man’s shoulder.
“Is it bad?” Ohno punctuated his question with a gentle, but firm, squeeze of Nino’s stirring cock through his sweats. Nino’s breath got stuck in his throat.
“It’s not… bad. But the others are sitting right there! They might hear us.”
“They won’t, not over the roar of the engines.”
“But what if they wake up?”
“Sho’s reading the paper, that will keep him occupied for the duration of the flight and he’s got his iPod on. You know he can’t hear anything above that din. Jun will refuse to wake up from his beauty sleep until we’re good and landed, and Aiba could sleep through Armageddon.”
“But -”
“Shh. Just let me.” Ohno’s hot breath tickled Nino’s face has he whispered into his ear. Nino shivered. Ohno made sure Nino’s game was paused - he’d never survive if he caused Nino to lose his saved game - and tucked the DS safely into the seat pocket. Nino closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing; there was no escaping the inevitable.
Ohno traced the muscles of Nino’s abdomen, just above the hem of his boxers. They felt like his Traveling pair: emerald green, t-shirt jersey material, long enough to still be called boxers, but short enough not to irritate when they bunched up from hours of sitting. Long, delicate fingers slipped into top of the shorts, following the lines of Nino's abdominals, playing with the peach fuzz that made up Nino’s happy trail. Ohno’s toes and their ministrations had created a surprisingly hard organ when his hand finally wrapped around Nino.
“Why, you’re happy to see me.”
“Shut up.” Nino choked out, cracking a smile.
Ohno stroked. Nino groaned low in this throat. Nino maintained his deep, even breathing but developed a crease of extreme concentration between his delicate eyebrows that only came from two things: trying to take down the Final Boss and Ohno touching him. He hated to lose. He hated to have his character die in the final moments of battle. He hated how Ohno could make him lose control with the lightest of touches.
Ohno gripped Nino firmly at the base, fingers calloused from holding a pencil or paintbrush added delicious friction in a way Nino’s hands never could. Ohno stroked up slowly, grasping a little bit harder when he reached the head and finished with a gentle twist. On the down stroke, Ohno loosened his grip, fingers skating over Nino’s porcelain skin, causing taller man grasp blindly at Ohno for leverage in an effort to prevent his hips from thrusting up to increase contact. After the third stroke, Nino let a small whimper escape his lips; partly because of how close Ohno was bringing him to the edge, partly because it wasn’t enough.
Ohno smiled into the skin where Nino’s neck and shoulder met. He loved how he could make such unintelligent noises come from Nino, who was normally so well-spoken. No one had the same ridiculous vocabulary as Sho, but Nino was poetic. He abandoned the feathery touches but maintained the plodding rhythm. If nothing else, Ohno was disciplined at maintaining a good rhythm. He could tell Nino was close: the way he was clutching Ohno’s tented knee, the way his breathing was becoming ragged. Nino turned into the smile and opened his eyes, those expressive eyes that could do all his acting for him if Nino ever lost his voice. Nino was pleading for release.
Ohno held Nino in the palm of his hand. He could grant the younger man’s wish with a few quick pulls. Or he could stop. His evil side, which surely rubbed off from Nino, considered stopping for all of three seconds. But that would be mean. And Nino’s wrath knew no bounds. Nothing good could come from just stopping.
“Are you sure you want me to? You’ll stain your sweats.” Ohno asked, briefly taking Nino’s earlobe between his teeth, while running his thumb over the slit at the tip of his penis.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” was Nino’s strained reply.
“As you wish.” Ohno grazed the sensitive spot underneath Nino’s ear with his teeth and stepped up the tempo. Nino abandoned all efforts to keep his own hips within his control and four quick, tight strokes later, Nino spilled himself into Ohno’s hand. Ohno watched Nino’s face as he came: normally he would make a cute, gaspy cry but didn’t dare make a sound while the other four members sat barely four feet away. Instead he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, biting through the force of his orgasm, while digging his fingers into the flesh of Ohno’s leg, nearly cutting off circulation.
When his body relaxed and loosened its grip, Nino opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. Ohno withdrew, straightening Nino’s clothes, and wiped the cum off his hand with the airline blanket, tossing it back onto the floor. It had probably seen worse, anyway. Nino tried to steady his breathing and restore his heart rate to normal. Ohno took the DS out of the seat pocket, replacing it into Nino’s slack hands. Nino had yet to regain control of his motor functions.
Ohno swivelled in his seat, curled into a ball and laid his head in Nino’s lap. He snuggled into the slight man sitting beside him and sighed happily.
“Please explain how giving me a hand job - a great one, don’t get me wrong - will help you fall asleep?”
“It made you relax enough to let me do this.” That was the stupidest thing Nino had ever heard.
"You could have just asked, you know."
"I know. But that was more fun." Nino pursed his lips, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile.
"You're evil."
"I learned from the best."
Originally published here - 2008.03.04
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,023
Summary: In-flight handjob. Oh yeah.
Notes: I wrote this on Sunday as I nursed a hangover. I may still have been drunk, coming up with an idea like this.
2008 started off with a bang. The last two months had been jam packed with nothing but work, work and more work. PV shoot, CM shoots, TV appearances, radio shows, filming movies, an art show, the regular slew of magazine shoots and interviews, and of course taping Arashi no Shukudai-kun, Tensai! Shimura Dobutsuen, and News Zero. The boys barely had time to take a shit, let alone eat or sleep. And now, they had just announced plans for a summer concert tour. Promotions for that were starting before they even had time to internalize it.
Arashi now found themselves sandwiched into business class seats on JAL flight 3047 bound for Sapporo. They were off to do a photo spread for some magazine (they had long stopped caring which publication they were shooting for) involving snow, or what remained, somehow. Jun was not thrilled: snow was cold, it got into your clothes and hair and made everything wet. Unless he was in a pool or in the ocean, Jun did not enjoy being wet. Aiba's effervescent child-like wonder piqued at the mention of snow, infecting Sho in the process. Perhaps they'd be able to do some snowboarding (or sliding down the mountain on your ass, in Sho’s case) before spring hit. Nino went along with the same bland enthusiasm he approached everything with: work was work. It got in the way of his game; he would get it done so he could finish saving the princess. Ohno was bubbling with the success of Freestyle and had a refreshed drive for work. He had always liked drawing but knowing that other people had loved his work so much gave him even more inspiration to create.
They were on the first flight out of Narita Airport, something which no one was happy about. At times like these, their manager was a hard ass. Being in the Japanese entertainment business, especially working for Johnny's Entertainment, you had to be. Arashi weren't trouble makers - they all took their work seriously. But boys will be boys and they could get rowdy and misbehave sometimes. They were human, after all. This morning had been especially trying, getting five comatose men into the company van before sunrise.
Jun sat next to the window on the right side of the plane, head resting on the fibreglass paneling of the Boeing 767, glasses sliding down his nose as he tried to resume sleep. Aiba occupied the aisle seat, lean legs obstructing part of the aisle causing the stewardess to step over him. He was hugging one of the airplane pillows tightly, in lieu of pet or person, chin resting on his chest with a trucker hat pulled down low over his eyes. Sho sat in the row in front beside their manager, who was busily consulting the day's schedule on his Blackberry. Sho read the morning edition of the paper while sipping on the airline’s signature brew, imagining jet fuel must taste the same. Across the aisle from Aiba, a bespectacled Nino sat with headphones on, playing his DS. He was awake anyway, so he thought he might as well work on his game. He only had to collect a few more items before he could face the big boss. Ohno rounded out the group, taking the window seat beside Nino. He leaned back into the head rest, resting his eyes. It was too early to even think; it was unnatural for people to be up so early. There was only an hour before they landed in Sapporo and the day really had to begin, so he tried to get as much precious sleep as possible.
Ohno shifted in his seat. Despite being in business, he felt confined by his chair. Did these things get smaller since the last time he flew? He tried putting his pillow behind his head, between his shoulder blades, on his lumbar, under his butt. He crossed his legs, crossed his ankles, shucked off his shoes. No matter what he tried, he could not get comfortable.
The speed with which Nino’s hand made contact with Ohno’s thigh made an audible slap that caused Aiba to toss in his sleep, murmuring something about his dog.
“Stop.”
“But, I can’t -”
Nino’s hand squeezed the thigh harder. “Just stop.”
Ohno pouted. Was it his fault that he couldn’t get comfortable? No matter how far back the chair reclined, he just couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t curled up in the foetal position, lying on his left side nestled against a wall or warm body. Ohno felt, rather than saw, how dangerously close Nino’s hand was to the fly of his jeans. Well, there was one thing that always helped him sleep.
Nino’s DS reclaimed the hand, much to Ohno’s displeasure. This wouldn’t do. He had to re-establish contact. Ohno lifted the armrest separating the two seats and swung his legs across Nino’s lap. Nino rested his elbows on Ohno’s shins, a habit picked up after many years of being in close proximity to one another. Ohno picked up the airline blanket of the cabin floor that was discarded in his attempt to get comfortable and draped it over both sets of limbs.
Nino’s fingers stilled on their buttons has he suddenly felt something like toes crawling up his right inner thigh. Ohno’s toes were rubbing his crotch through his sweat pants. Ohno’s toes were giving him a hard on in business class of Japan Airlines with the rest of Arashi sitting across the aisle.
Nino glared at his assailant. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
“I can’t sleep.” Ohno replied as if the answer was plainly obvious.
“And how is wriggling your toes in my pants supposed to help that?”
Ohno replied with an evil grin. Nino could count the number of times he’d seen that grin on one hand. It usually surfaced when Ohno drank too much, or when he was particularly horny. Since it wasn’t even six a.m. yet, and they hadn’t gone drinking the night before, Nino guessed it was the latter.
Ohno shimmied his butt closer to Nino, drawing the knee of one leg up while the toes of the other continued to draw lazy circles on the inside of Nino’s thigh. He slipped a hand under the blanket and slid it hand up the other thigh at a glacial pace, while resting his chin on the slighter man’s shoulder.
“Is it bad?” Ohno punctuated his question with a gentle, but firm, squeeze of Nino’s stirring cock through his sweats. Nino’s breath got stuck in his throat.
“It’s not… bad. But the others are sitting right there! They might hear us.”
“They won’t, not over the roar of the engines.”
“But what if they wake up?”
“Sho’s reading the paper, that will keep him occupied for the duration of the flight and he’s got his iPod on. You know he can’t hear anything above that din. Jun will refuse to wake up from his beauty sleep until we’re good and landed, and Aiba could sleep through Armageddon.”
“But -”
“Shh. Just let me.” Ohno’s hot breath tickled Nino’s face has he whispered into his ear. Nino shivered. Ohno made sure Nino’s game was paused - he’d never survive if he caused Nino to lose his saved game - and tucked the DS safely into the seat pocket. Nino closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing; there was no escaping the inevitable.
Ohno traced the muscles of Nino’s abdomen, just above the hem of his boxers. They felt like his Traveling pair: emerald green, t-shirt jersey material, long enough to still be called boxers, but short enough not to irritate when they bunched up from hours of sitting. Long, delicate fingers slipped into top of the shorts, following the lines of Nino's abdominals, playing with the peach fuzz that made up Nino’s happy trail. Ohno’s toes and their ministrations had created a surprisingly hard organ when his hand finally wrapped around Nino.
“Why, you’re happy to see me.”
“Shut up.” Nino choked out, cracking a smile.
Ohno stroked. Nino groaned low in this throat. Nino maintained his deep, even breathing but developed a crease of extreme concentration between his delicate eyebrows that only came from two things: trying to take down the Final Boss and Ohno touching him. He hated to lose. He hated to have his character die in the final moments of battle. He hated how Ohno could make him lose control with the lightest of touches.
Ohno gripped Nino firmly at the base, fingers calloused from holding a pencil or paintbrush added delicious friction in a way Nino’s hands never could. Ohno stroked up slowly, grasping a little bit harder when he reached the head and finished with a gentle twist. On the down stroke, Ohno loosened his grip, fingers skating over Nino’s porcelain skin, causing taller man grasp blindly at Ohno for leverage in an effort to prevent his hips from thrusting up to increase contact. After the third stroke, Nino let a small whimper escape his lips; partly because of how close Ohno was bringing him to the edge, partly because it wasn’t enough.
Ohno smiled into the skin where Nino’s neck and shoulder met. He loved how he could make such unintelligent noises come from Nino, who was normally so well-spoken. No one had the same ridiculous vocabulary as Sho, but Nino was poetic. He abandoned the feathery touches but maintained the plodding rhythm. If nothing else, Ohno was disciplined at maintaining a good rhythm. He could tell Nino was close: the way he was clutching Ohno’s tented knee, the way his breathing was becoming ragged. Nino turned into the smile and opened his eyes, those expressive eyes that could do all his acting for him if Nino ever lost his voice. Nino was pleading for release.
Ohno held Nino in the palm of his hand. He could grant the younger man’s wish with a few quick pulls. Or he could stop. His evil side, which surely rubbed off from Nino, considered stopping for all of three seconds. But that would be mean. And Nino’s wrath knew no bounds. Nothing good could come from just stopping.
“Are you sure you want me to? You’ll stain your sweats.” Ohno asked, briefly taking Nino’s earlobe between his teeth, while running his thumb over the slit at the tip of his penis.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” was Nino’s strained reply.
“As you wish.” Ohno grazed the sensitive spot underneath Nino’s ear with his teeth and stepped up the tempo. Nino abandoned all efforts to keep his own hips within his control and four quick, tight strokes later, Nino spilled himself into Ohno’s hand. Ohno watched Nino’s face as he came: normally he would make a cute, gaspy cry but didn’t dare make a sound while the other four members sat barely four feet away. Instead he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, biting through the force of his orgasm, while digging his fingers into the flesh of Ohno’s leg, nearly cutting off circulation.
When his body relaxed and loosened its grip, Nino opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. Ohno withdrew, straightening Nino’s clothes, and wiped the cum off his hand with the airline blanket, tossing it back onto the floor. It had probably seen worse, anyway. Nino tried to steady his breathing and restore his heart rate to normal. Ohno took the DS out of the seat pocket, replacing it into Nino’s slack hands. Nino had yet to regain control of his motor functions.
Ohno swivelled in his seat, curled into a ball and laid his head in Nino’s lap. He snuggled into the slight man sitting beside him and sighed happily.
“Please explain how giving me a hand job - a great one, don’t get me wrong - will help you fall asleep?”
“It made you relax enough to let me do this.” That was the stupidest thing Nino had ever heard.
"You could have just asked, you know."
"I know. But that was more fun." Nino pursed his lips, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile.
"You're evil."
"I learned from the best."