leaving the door unlocked (for you)
Title: Leaving the door unlocked (for you)
Pairing: Massu x Yamapi
Rating: Apparently this is hard R. o_O.
Word Count: 1500+
Notes: For flipbookfrog. I don’t even know.
Summary: Massu never plans on sleeping with Yamashita Tomohisa (or a series of Massupi moments).
Leaving the door unlocked (for you)
Massu never plans on sleeping with Yamashita Tomohisa. He never walks out of a photo shoot thinking, tonight Yamapi is going to take me to his place and fuck the life out of me, and I am going to enjoy it.
He never does, but somehow it happens anyway. Somehow, Yamapi has no problem clasping Massu’s forearm loosely after practice and leaning close to the shell of Massu’s ear. “The door will be unlocked tonight,” Yamapi’s breath washes cold over Massu’s shoulder and shoots tingles down his spine each time, and Massu should probably be used to it by now, but he isn’t. The thrill has yet to lose its appeal.
Sometimes Massu wants to turn Yamapi down, wants to look him straight in the eye and say no, he has better plans. But then his eyes lock onto Yamapi’s and he knows that that’s a lie.
So he lies to everyone else, tells them with big cheery (fake, oh so fake) smiles that I can’t go to dinner after all and man it’s a long ride back home and we’ll make plans for another night, maybe.
He soon finds himself taking that long train route to the same station that is becoming more familiar with each passing night, walks the same ambling path to the residential apartment complex that is slowly becoming like a second home. He walks up three flights of steps, turns a sharp corner, and arrives at apartment 307. He tests the door; it is unlocked once again. Yamapi is crazy sometimes, and he makes a mental note to tell Yamapi to lock his door; it isn’t safe, especially for Yamapi the wonder idol.
Then again, nothing about what they are doing is safe.
When Yamapi arrives hours later reeking of expensive alcohol and harshly scented colognes, Massu stands up and tries to tell Yamapi to lock his door, as he always does when Yamapi does this.
“But then how would you get inside?” Yamapi breathes into the curve of Massu’s neck, and Massu can’t get another word in as Yamapi angles his mouth sharp over Massu’s.
Massu never has an answer for that, and by that point, his thoughts are always occupied with other things, like baby soft lips and hands fumbling against buttons and teeth scraping skin.
Massu doesn’t remember exactly when they started this…thing between them, doesn’t remember when Yamapi decided that Massu was the only one good enough to warm his sheets late at night.
All he does remember is a little too much booze and some boisterous laughter and a cool hand on his thigh. And then he remembers a bed and awkward fumbling and Yamapi’s voice close to his ear muttering Massu’s name over and over again, like a curse. Or a prayer.
He also remembers waking up to Yamapi’s slumbering face and nearly retching at the sight.
And yet, despite Massu’s complete discomfort with their situation, he keeps coming back whenever Yamapi asks him to. Perhaps it is because Massu has no other sure way of getting his rocks off. Or maybe it is because what they do together is secret, heady, empowering, something Massu didn’t know he needed. Either way, he always finds his way back to apartment number 307 at the end of the day, and he marvels at the way Yamapi’s face lights up when he walks into the apartment and sees Massu waiting for him on his snow white couch.
Yamapi keeps him later and later with each night they spend together; again and again he drives into Massu until they are both completely spent. When they are done, Yamapi almost wilts against the crumpled obsidian sheets, with hair blending into the pillow and eyes fluttering shut, while Massu just sort of lays there, out of breath and completely unsure. Sometimes Massu waits for Yamapi to fall asleep before leaving, and other times Massu tries to leave straight away, but Yamapi always grabs him by the hand and twines their fingers together as he tries to convince him not to leave.
“I wouldn’t mind waking up to you in the morning,” Yamapi tells him in a soft, serious tone. “Don’t make this any dirtier than it has to be.”
Massu doesn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he laughs. I have to get home, Massu whispers feebly in the silent room, before he pulls away and wiggles into his boxer shorts, wondering if he can call a taxi this late at night (he isn’t sure how to interpret the way his heart beats extra fast at Yamapi’s confession).
When Massu tiptoes his way through the house at four in the morning one day and finds his mother sitting in the living room waiting for him, he’s momentarily startled. Maybe even slightly ashamed at being caught. But she merely laughs and makes a quip about her son being a real man. She then smiles and admits to him that she can hear whenever he tries to sneak in, and then advises him to use a condom.
Massu wonders why people think it’s weird that he loves his mother so much. To him, it’s pretty obvious.
But then he worries, because now he has really no excuses to feed Yamapi late at night.
A couple of nights later, Massu lays languid next to Yamapi and breathes to the rhythm of Yamapi’s snores. For a long while he contemplates leaving and going home as usual, to walk out on Yamapi as he has been doing for the past few long months. He almost lifts the covers away from his body, but if he’s honest with himself, Massu knows that he really doesn’t want to leave, as much as he probably should. So, with a sigh, he falls asleep rather uneasily, head nudged tight against Yamapi’s taut chest.
Massu has always been a light sleeper, so he stirs when Yamapi wakes up and yelps at the sight of Massu still in bed next to him. A little offended, Massu pretends to be asleep, but Yamapi does nothing. Instead he is silent for a long moment, and just when Massu is about to fall back asleep for real, Yamapi’s fingers ghost over Massu’s cheekbone before pulling him closer and drifting back off to sleep once again (with a little grin, Massu follows soon after).
After Yamapi comes with a loaded groan and falls half-splayed on Massu’s chest, Massu grunts but doesn’t push him aside. Instead, he watches the way Yamapi’s curls rise and fall with each breath Massu takes. Then Massu giggles and the curls jiggle and Yamapi swats a blind arm at Massu’s face in retaliation. Massu catches it and lets go with a laugh, but then Yamapi grabs it again and holds on tight.
Yamapi’s head bounces when Massu’s breath catches. After a minute pause, Massu fleetingly wonders where his words come from, but when Massu asks Yamapi what he thinks about their relationship, half jokingly and half deadly serious, Yamapi is quiet for a very long time.
Finally Yamapi exhales cool air over Massu’s soft rosebud nipple. “We’re having mind-blowing sex…” Yamapi says, but his words aren’t very firm and he won’t look Massu in the eye.
Massu doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved at the answer. He settles for disappointed and shoves Yamapi’s head off his chest before he falls asleep still feeling the rough edges of Yamapi’s hair etched into his chest.
The next morning is the first time Massu wakes up to an empty bed, and when he pulls away the covers, he notices something sitting on Yamapi’s pillow.
A key, Massu notes. It doesn’t take him very long to realize what it’s for; Yamapi has never been one for subtlety but it’s a nice thought anyway. Massu takes it into his hands, feels the weight of metal rest cold against his palm, and he realizes at that moment the significance of this object.
It worries him a little bit, the way he falls even more for Yamapi with this one action alone.
When he walks into the kitchen area, Yamapi sort of squawks as he attempts to flip an omelet and when Massu sniffs the air he thinks he smells burnt coffee. He doesn’t know how anyone could actually burn coffee, but Yamapi has always been sort of special that way. Yamapi keeps staring at Massu, and Massu reckons that it is probably due to the fact that he’s still naked, but really, it isn’t anything Yamapi hasn’t seen before.
He walks over to Yamapi with the new key jangling on his pinky. Yamapi turns off the stove with trembling hands and stares at the key for a long time before he raises his eyes to Massu’s. The nervousness that is clear in Yamapi’s expression makes Massu feel a little better.
There’s a pause before Massu finally speaks. “Thanks,” Massu croaks, with a lump in his throat and a smile searing his lips. “Now you can finally lock the door, you insane idiot.”
Yamapi only laughs in response, before flicking egg at Massu’s face (later he licks it off and Massu groans deep sounds that reverberate against Yamapi’s sweat slicked skin).
AN: So…this is what came up when I was asked to write Massupi. I…yeah…
Thoughts?
(and yes, I know I owe people fic from ages ago. I'll get to them...soon...ish. If inspiration cooperates with me.)
Pairing: Massu x Yamapi
Rating: Apparently this is hard R. o_O.
Word Count: 1500+
Notes: For flipbookfrog. I don’t even know.
Summary: Massu never plans on sleeping with Yamashita Tomohisa (or a series of Massupi moments).
Leaving the door unlocked (for you)
Massu never plans on sleeping with Yamashita Tomohisa. He never walks out of a photo shoot thinking, tonight Yamapi is going to take me to his place and fuck the life out of me, and I am going to enjoy it.
He never does, but somehow it happens anyway. Somehow, Yamapi has no problem clasping Massu’s forearm loosely after practice and leaning close to the shell of Massu’s ear. “The door will be unlocked tonight,” Yamapi’s breath washes cold over Massu’s shoulder and shoots tingles down his spine each time, and Massu should probably be used to it by now, but he isn’t. The thrill has yet to lose its appeal.
Sometimes Massu wants to turn Yamapi down, wants to look him straight in the eye and say no, he has better plans. But then his eyes lock onto Yamapi’s and he knows that that’s a lie.
So he lies to everyone else, tells them with big cheery (fake, oh so fake) smiles that I can’t go to dinner after all and man it’s a long ride back home and we’ll make plans for another night, maybe.
He soon finds himself taking that long train route to the same station that is becoming more familiar with each passing night, walks the same ambling path to the residential apartment complex that is slowly becoming like a second home. He walks up three flights of steps, turns a sharp corner, and arrives at apartment 307. He tests the door; it is unlocked once again. Yamapi is crazy sometimes, and he makes a mental note to tell Yamapi to lock his door; it isn’t safe, especially for Yamapi the wonder idol.
Then again, nothing about what they are doing is safe.
When Yamapi arrives hours later reeking of expensive alcohol and harshly scented colognes, Massu stands up and tries to tell Yamapi to lock his door, as he always does when Yamapi does this.
“But then how would you get inside?” Yamapi breathes into the curve of Massu’s neck, and Massu can’t get another word in as Yamapi angles his mouth sharp over Massu’s.
Massu never has an answer for that, and by that point, his thoughts are always occupied with other things, like baby soft lips and hands fumbling against buttons and teeth scraping skin.
Massu doesn’t remember exactly when they started this…thing between them, doesn’t remember when Yamapi decided that Massu was the only one good enough to warm his sheets late at night.
All he does remember is a little too much booze and some boisterous laughter and a cool hand on his thigh. And then he remembers a bed and awkward fumbling and Yamapi’s voice close to his ear muttering Massu’s name over and over again, like a curse. Or a prayer.
He also remembers waking up to Yamapi’s slumbering face and nearly retching at the sight.
And yet, despite Massu’s complete discomfort with their situation, he keeps coming back whenever Yamapi asks him to. Perhaps it is because Massu has no other sure way of getting his rocks off. Or maybe it is because what they do together is secret, heady, empowering, something Massu didn’t know he needed. Either way, he always finds his way back to apartment number 307 at the end of the day, and he marvels at the way Yamapi’s face lights up when he walks into the apartment and sees Massu waiting for him on his snow white couch.
Yamapi keeps him later and later with each night they spend together; again and again he drives into Massu until they are both completely spent. When they are done, Yamapi almost wilts against the crumpled obsidian sheets, with hair blending into the pillow and eyes fluttering shut, while Massu just sort of lays there, out of breath and completely unsure. Sometimes Massu waits for Yamapi to fall asleep before leaving, and other times Massu tries to leave straight away, but Yamapi always grabs him by the hand and twines their fingers together as he tries to convince him not to leave.
“I wouldn’t mind waking up to you in the morning,” Yamapi tells him in a soft, serious tone. “Don’t make this any dirtier than it has to be.”
Massu doesn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he laughs. I have to get home, Massu whispers feebly in the silent room, before he pulls away and wiggles into his boxer shorts, wondering if he can call a taxi this late at night (he isn’t sure how to interpret the way his heart beats extra fast at Yamapi’s confession).
When Massu tiptoes his way through the house at four in the morning one day and finds his mother sitting in the living room waiting for him, he’s momentarily startled. Maybe even slightly ashamed at being caught. But she merely laughs and makes a quip about her son being a real man. She then smiles and admits to him that she can hear whenever he tries to sneak in, and then advises him to use a condom.
Massu wonders why people think it’s weird that he loves his mother so much. To him, it’s pretty obvious.
But then he worries, because now he has really no excuses to feed Yamapi late at night.
A couple of nights later, Massu lays languid next to Yamapi and breathes to the rhythm of Yamapi’s snores. For a long while he contemplates leaving and going home as usual, to walk out on Yamapi as he has been doing for the past few long months. He almost lifts the covers away from his body, but if he’s honest with himself, Massu knows that he really doesn’t want to leave, as much as he probably should. So, with a sigh, he falls asleep rather uneasily, head nudged tight against Yamapi’s taut chest.
Massu has always been a light sleeper, so he stirs when Yamapi wakes up and yelps at the sight of Massu still in bed next to him. A little offended, Massu pretends to be asleep, but Yamapi does nothing. Instead he is silent for a long moment, and just when Massu is about to fall back asleep for real, Yamapi’s fingers ghost over Massu’s cheekbone before pulling him closer and drifting back off to sleep once again (with a little grin, Massu follows soon after).
After Yamapi comes with a loaded groan and falls half-splayed on Massu’s chest, Massu grunts but doesn’t push him aside. Instead, he watches the way Yamapi’s curls rise and fall with each breath Massu takes. Then Massu giggles and the curls jiggle and Yamapi swats a blind arm at Massu’s face in retaliation. Massu catches it and lets go with a laugh, but then Yamapi grabs it again and holds on tight.
Yamapi’s head bounces when Massu’s breath catches. After a minute pause, Massu fleetingly wonders where his words come from, but when Massu asks Yamapi what he thinks about their relationship, half jokingly and half deadly serious, Yamapi is quiet for a very long time.
Finally Yamapi exhales cool air over Massu’s soft rosebud nipple. “We’re having mind-blowing sex…” Yamapi says, but his words aren’t very firm and he won’t look Massu in the eye.
Massu doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved at the answer. He settles for disappointed and shoves Yamapi’s head off his chest before he falls asleep still feeling the rough edges of Yamapi’s hair etched into his chest.
The next morning is the first time Massu wakes up to an empty bed, and when he pulls away the covers, he notices something sitting on Yamapi’s pillow.
A key, Massu notes. It doesn’t take him very long to realize what it’s for; Yamapi has never been one for subtlety but it’s a nice thought anyway. Massu takes it into his hands, feels the weight of metal rest cold against his palm, and he realizes at that moment the significance of this object.
It worries him a little bit, the way he falls even more for Yamapi with this one action alone.
When he walks into the kitchen area, Yamapi sort of squawks as he attempts to flip an omelet and when Massu sniffs the air he thinks he smells burnt coffee. He doesn’t know how anyone could actually burn coffee, but Yamapi has always been sort of special that way. Yamapi keeps staring at Massu, and Massu reckons that it is probably due to the fact that he’s still naked, but really, it isn’t anything Yamapi hasn’t seen before.
He walks over to Yamapi with the new key jangling on his pinky. Yamapi turns off the stove with trembling hands and stares at the key for a long time before he raises his eyes to Massu’s. The nervousness that is clear in Yamapi’s expression makes Massu feel a little better.
There’s a pause before Massu finally speaks. “Thanks,” Massu croaks, with a lump in his throat and a smile searing his lips. “Now you can finally lock the door, you insane idiot.”
Yamapi only laughs in response, before flicking egg at Massu’s face (later he licks it off and Massu groans deep sounds that reverberate against Yamapi’s sweat slicked skin).
AN: So…this is what came up when I was asked to write Massupi. I…yeah…
Thoughts?
(and yes, I know I owe people fic from ages ago. I'll get to them...soon...ish. If inspiration cooperates with me.)