38.
Title: Bugged
Pairing/Characters: Koyama/Massu
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, PWP
Prompt: # 38 A knock to the head somehow lands Massu with a case of psychic powers, only problem is that all he can actually hear are everyone's sexual thoughts. [fic]
Summary: Or, Massu finds out that someone’s got a thing for him.
A/N: Much love to T for the last-minute beta. ♥
Massu’s pretty sure that you’re supposed to develop abilities like this overnight, and wake up with them in the morning.
In a few hours, it will occur to him that he’s very, very glad that’s not how it happened.
As it is, he didn’t really notice it starting, though he later decides that it must have been when he’d whacked his head with a door on the way to work. He’s at dance practice with NEWS when he starts to realize he’s having a lot of sexual thoughts he wouldn’t normally have, and about things he doesn’t really fantasize about.
For example, Tegoshi dressed as a cheerleader having sex with a real, female cheerleader. Of the foreign variety. Then a mental image of himself screwing that one guy from Sid, though it doesn’t feel like himself, somehow. And while Massu sort of knows the guy, he only ever crosses Massu’s mind when Shige mentions him, and he’s never thought of having sex with him.
It calms down a little whenever they’re really rehearsing (though once in the middle of a tough move there’s a hardcore bondage one with some woman he’s never even seen before, and Massu nearly trips over Shige), then starts to pick up when they take breaks. It’s on a water break when Massu finds himself fantasizing about sucking himself off, only the penis in question is definitely not his own penis, and Massu doesn’t usually fantasize about his own lips like this.
It’s when the mental image switches to one of come on Massu’s lips and then immediately shifts to a completely unrelated thought of having office sex with Tabe Mikako that he realizes he’s developed the most awkward superpower ever.
He quickly figures that the Tabe one and the one with Tegoshi as a cheerleader are both Tegoshi’s, and the strange woman must be the choreographer’s wife. As they get back into formation and start dancing again, he’s wondering who it is who’s fantasizing about his mouth. Which means he’s not nearly focused enough on dancing, so he’s not really surprised when he actually trips over Shige, resulting in a four-person pig-pile.
“What the fuck, Massu?” Shige says, rubbing his knee. Massu apologizes and tries to get off the floor, but there’s a weight on his back. Watching in the mirror as Koyama clambers off of him, his mind is filled with an image of himself on all fours, someone driving into him from behind. With his eyes resting on Koyama, it’s all too easy for him to imagine the other person in that fantasy is Koyama.
Now he’s not sure it isn’t just his own fantasy. He adjusts his sweatpants and tries to focus on dancing again.
On a brief pause for water, Massu nearly spews his drink everywhere when he tilts his head back for a gulp and hears, Shit, his neck is pretty. This is followed by a mental image of himself arching his back in a bed with green sheets, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth stretched open in a cry. He accidentally inhales the tail end of his mouthful of water, but as he starts to choke he catches Koyama glancing away.
Midway through Massu’s coughing fit, the choreographer sighs and tells them all to go home for the day and come back tomorrow ready to focus, with a pointed glare at Massu.
Tegoshi suggests they go for dinner, and Massu turns him down, because he’s sick of seeing Tegoshi in sexual situations and he’s not sure he can get through dinner erection-free with his mind being filled with images of someone ravaging him. Also, he can hear a little voice in his head wondering about the safety of types of gags Massu didn’t even know existed.
But then he realizes that, if what’s going on is really what he thinks is going on, going home means he’ll get to hear his parents thinking about sex. He scrunches his nose and says, “Wait, no. Let’s go! I say sushi.”
In the end they go for sukiyaki, but he doesn’t really mind.
Halfway through the meal, he’s convinced that Koyama, Shige, and Tegoshi are all bisexual, on top of being perverts. Luckily the restaurant is mostly empty, and the couple in the corner seem to be keeping their minds on each other (though someone briefly fantasizes about the woman making out with the waitress, and he’s not sure it’s the woman’s date). He still has trouble identifying the owners even of the verbal thoughts-he spends a good part of the meal trying to figure out if he normally thinks in his own voice or not.
But by now he thinks he knows which of them wants him. He definitely knows a way to find out that would also spare him the trauma of going home.
“Hey, Koyama,” he starts. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”
It takes a moment for Koyama to stop choking on the beef he’s eating to answer. “Why?”
Shit, reasons. “Umm, my parents are away from home for a couple days, and my sister wants me to go away so she can have her boyfriend over.”
“Oh,” Koyama frowns. “Sure, you can stay over.”
“Ooh, can Shige and me come, too?” Tegoshi asks.
Trust Tegoshi to miss the point. Massu tries not to glower, but Shige rescues him. “Ugh, no. Koyama only has one futon, and none of us should be sleeping on the floor when we’ve got dance rehearsals.”
Get you some, Koyama, comes at the end, but Shige’s mouth isn’t moving. Huh.
They finish eating and part ways, Koyama asking as they leave if Massu needs to get anything. Massu shudders. “No, I’d rather not risk it.”
The car ride back to Koyama’s place is mostly quiet, but at one stoplight Koyama looks at Massu for a long moment. Massu can hear him think, God, I want to get him in the backseat.
A little thrill runs through him, and he turns to meet Koyama’s gaze. Koyama startles and looks forward again. Massu eyes the backseat.
“That backseat is roomier than I expected,” Massu says. “Er, from the outside of the car. Looks comfortable, too.”
Holy shit. He can’t know what I’m thinking. It’s Massu, Massu doesn’t think about sex. Watching the road, Koyama laughs like he always does when Massu says weird things, but this time it’s a bit squeaky. “Why do you mention it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you could take all four of us on a road trip sometime.”
It’s his first time visiting Koyama’s apartment, so he gets the grand tour. It’s small, but Massu’s surprised to find that it has a tiny Japanese-style second bedroom. Koyama’s bedroom is larger, with a nice view of the city from the balcony. The comforter on the bed looks a little worn, but what catches Massu’s eye the most is the edge of green where Koyama hasn’t pulled it up quite high enough to cover the sheets.
The furnishings in the living room are stylish but comfortable, mostly soft beiges with a dark coffee table, probably cherry. They have a while before bed time, so Koyama makes them tea and puts in a Ghibli movie.
Ordinarily, that would be fine-who doesn’t love Ghibli? But watching Chihiro run around the strange bathhouse doesn’t transition well into sex. Which is all Massu really wants to do, now that he’s got confirmation that Koyama wants it, too.
Still at a loss for how to proceed when the credits start rolling, Massu lets Koyama set up the bath and find him some spare clothes. He’s still distinctly not sexed up when he hops into the shower and starts washing off.
The fantasies start up again while he’s sitting on the little stool in the bathroom, shampooing his hair. There’s a flash of his mouth around Koyama’s cock. Then a flustered mental voice says, Fuck, no. Not now, and the image disappears.
It comes back again as Massu starts to rinse out the shampoo. Koyama must give up, then, because it just intensifies. The view spreads to Koyama’s long fingers threading through Massu’s hair, Massu’s eyes looking up at Koyama. He’s half-hard just from that when it switches to them in Koyama’s car again, only this time they’re in the backseat, and Koyama’s taking Massu’s clothes off. Then fantasy-Koyama turns fantasy-Massu around and presses a finger into him, works it in and out and adds more until Massu’s whining and clinging to the door handle.
Even as he wonders just how much Koyama must like fingering people the imagery gets to Massu, and he desperately soaps up and rinses off so that he can wrap his hand around himself when fantasy-Koyama replaces his fingers with his cock. He’s never seen himself from this point of view before; he feels a little narcissistic jerking himself to images of his own swaying back and ass and thighs, which are the recipients of much of this fantasy’s focus.
Koyama must get bored with that, because it transitions rather abruptly to him coming on Massu’s ass and lingers on the mess for a moment, then shifts to an image of him screwing Massu over an office desk somewhere. This time he can see more of Koyama, and they’re both half-dressed in suits, Massu holding his jacket out of the way.
After that it’s a rapid succession of random thoughts, instead of any coherent fantasy. Massu on his hands and knees in the shower, Massu against the mirrors in the practice room, Massu fingering himself on Koyama’s couch, Massu with come on his cheek. The only common theme is Massu, stocky and muscular and with the messy red hairstyles he’s been wearing lately.
Mostly unaware of what he’s doing, Massu slides from the bath stool to his knees on the floor and hunches over as he pulls frantically. At some point the images fade, so he replaces them with his own, of Koyama’s mouth on his cock, of slinking into Koyama’s lap on the couch and grinding, of Koyama pounding him in the back of the car again.
It’s all he can do to come quietly, and he knows his shower has been unusually long. He washes himself off again as quickly as he can, then shuts off the shower and skips the bath. As he towels off, he can hear Koyama’s mental voice frantically going on about washing his hands and how lucky he is that Massu took a long shower.
Koyama is standing in the living room looking flustered when Massu comes out of the shower, shirtless and wearing Koyama’s loosest pajama bottoms.
“Sorry I took so long,” Massu says.
“I-it’s okay,” Koyama brushes past him into the changing room. Sweet mother of bare chests, you’re gorgeous. “Good night.”
The futon is decently comfortable, and it has crisp, fresh sheets, but Massu can’t help but be irritated that it’s not Koyama’s bed he’s sleeping in. He can hear a similar thought drift in from the bathroom just before he falls asleep. Things will be rectified in the morning, he decides, and preferably before breakfast, because he never liked exercising immediately after a meal.
Being an early riser is helpful, in this case. He gets up, brushes his teeth, and washes his face and still has plenty of time to consider his options before Koyama wakes up. He deliberately stays shirtless and arranges his hair into a more artful mess than the one he woke up with.
This time it’s only his own fantasies running through his mind as he scans the room. The table, the couch, the shiny granite counters all enter his mind as places to nab Koyama, but the bed is his ultimate goal. Or should he sneak into Koyama’s room and snuggle until he wakes up?
No, that would result in morning breath. He needs Koyama to brush his teeth first.
Naturally, Koyama stumbles out of bed a few minutes later (delectably shirtless) and heads straight for the teapot without brushing his teeth. Massu intercepts him. “Ew, don’t you brush your teeth in the morning?”
Koyama gives him a bleary look with his eyes barely open and hair sticking up everywhere. Good morning, sexy. “I do that after breakfast.”
Cringing from the wave of unpleasant air, Massu says, “Well, do it now. I’m not talking to you when you have morning breath.”
Koyama shrugs and obeys, and Massu hunts through his kitchen for the tea while he waits, conveniently forgetting to put the kettle on. He’s hunting next to the stove when an arm reaches past him to one of the stove knobs.
“It’ll go faster if you get the water going before setting up the teapot, silly,” says Koyama’s slightly gravelly morning voice, right in Massu’s ear. This time he only smells mint, so he grabs the arm by the wrist and twists the knob back to “OFF.” Then he turns and shoves Koyama back against the counter.
It’s a little undignified, kissing Koyama. In his earlier fantasies, he just swooped up for a kiss, but in reality he has to get his arms over Koyama’s shoulders to steady himself on his tiptoes. Coupled with an alarmed Koyama, he’s probably lucky it didn’t end in concussion for either party. He manages to get his lips against Koyama’s, though, hard and needy, and that seems to be enough for Koyama to get the message. Strong arms wrap around his waist, then, and Koyama kisses back.
Wait, am I really awake? Massu hears, relaxing into Koyama’s arms. He wonders if there’s any way to turn off this stupid ability, because he’s not sure he wants to hear or see what’s going to come next. Since he has no idea how to go about that, he slips his tongue into Koyama’s mouth and does his best to keep him focused.
Koyama gives him an appreciative hum, which apparently translates to, Holy fuck, your mouth is awesome. Massu decides the ability can stick around, at least until he’s memorized the noises Koyama makes with his mouth full and what they mean.
Then Koyama breaks off and looks at him. Just when Massu starts to worry that something’s wrong, Koyama turns them around and slides an arm down under Massu’s rear.
“Jump for me,” he says, and Massu wraps his arms around Koyama’s shoulders and jumps, feeling like a little kid being picked up by his mother. The counter feels cool through his flimsy pajamas as Koyama sets him on it. He wraps his legs around Koyama’s sides and goes back to kissing him. Hands smooth over his sides, then his back. They hesitate for a while, slow down as they slide lower, and Massu can hear Koyama wondering if he’s going to stop him. He drags his teeth along Koyama’s bottom lip and moans, “Koyama.”
“Fuck, you should say that more often,” Koyama says. One hand palms the top of Massu’s ass, then slides over his hip and down his thigh. Massu gasps, unwittingly lets his hips twitch toward the hand as it nearly brushes his crotch, then goes away down his leg. Grinning, Koyama stops midway down his thigh and plays with the pajama fabric with his thumb. Massu tries to grind against him but he backs away, leaving just his teasing hand on Massu’s thigh.
Now he can see himself, sitting on the counter with a hint of an erection, bare-chested with shiny lips and halfway between an irritated pout and puppy dog eyes. You’re so damn cute when you’re irritated, comes Koyama’s mental voice, and Massu sees the pout start to take over on his face.
The hand moves an inch higher, thumb still rubbing maddeningly over the fabric, leaving little sparks wherever it goes. “You want this,” Koyama says.
Massu whines. “Koyama.”
The hand inches higher, sending more of those little sparks through him. It’s not nearly enough.
“Koyama, please,” he tries, deciding he’s not hearing everything now.
This time Koyama runs his fingers ever so lightly over the pajama seam that runs over Massu’s cock.
“What do you want, Massu?” Koyama asks. “Tell me.”
Massu hesitates-he’s not as much of a prude as he used to be, but there are a lot of things he’s still not comfortable with. Then his mind fills with a distracting image of himself, sitting on the counter like he is now, only he’s jerking off under Koyama’s watchful eye, because he wouldn’t tell Koyama what he really wanted. It’s not a wholly unpleasant idea, but he has loftier goals for the morning.
“I want you to touch me,” Massu finally says, looking nervously at Koyama. “I want to suck your cock, and I want you to fuck me. In that order. Please.”
He wants to blow me? Whatever happened to innocent Massu, says an incredulous voice in his head. He tries mentally grumbling back, I didn’t until I was forced to see all your stupid fantasies, but Koyama doesn’t react.
Instead the teasing hand finally exerts some pressure, and Massu bucks up against it. He pulls Koyama back against him and kisses him demandingly as Koyama slips the hand under his pajamas and rubs.
He’s slow and gentle in his ministrations, so that despite his knowledge of the inner workings of Koyama’s filthy, filthy brain, it’s Massu who feels like the desperate whore, rocking into Koyama’s smooth hand and wishing he’d go faster. He refuses to beg again, so he whimpers Koyama’s name while Koyama’s mouth travels over his neck and shoulders. He’s glad that Koyama is at least too close to treat him to a view of himself losing control, but the little mental accusations of slut only make him harder.
Then the hand goes away. He stares at Koyama, dazed and achingly hard.
“I believe there was something about sucking my cock?”
Massu groans. Maybe he should have thought harder before he spoke, earlier. He has half a mind to demand that Koyama finish the job first, but at the same time he doesn't want it to be over. So he slides off the counter, feet hitting the floor with a jarring thunk, shucks his pants because they’re just uncomfortable now, and drops to his knees.
He can see it all happening in his head, his own naked body kneeling in front of Koyama and looking up at him. It makes him feel doubly naked somehow. He tries to focus on his own thoughts. The skin above Koyama’s pajama pants is too smooth to not put his lips on, and he can’t resist wanting to even out their positions a little. So he kisses along Koyama’s hipbone to the top of his pajama bottoms, where he lingers to taste the skin.
“Fuck, Massu,” Koyama says.
Massu runs his teeth along skin as he starts to pull the pants out of the way. The worst part is that his dawdling is only half out of spite. He wonders if Koyama will grab him by the hair and force him if he takes long enough. His own cock twitches at the thought.
“Massu,” Koyama says. “Just suck it already.”
That sounds wonderfully close to begging. Massu grins up at him and licks slowly up the length of his cock, too focused on the way Koyama’s mouth opens and eyes narrow to notice the view of his own face. He wraps his hand around the base as he eases his mouth slowly over the head and sucks.
God, his mouth is perfect, Koyama thinks. Such a compliment can’t go unrewarded, even if Koyama doesn’t know he’s given it, so Massu slides all the way down, pausing to revel in the expletives that fill his mind before backing off and doing it again. Now Koyama’s the desperate one.
Realizing that he hasn’t felt a hand on his head the whole time, Massu looks up to see Koyama clinging to the counter. As he starts to wonder why, he hears, Don’t touch his hair, don’t touch his hair.
Oh, right. Of course Koyama wouldn’t know why Massu doesn’t like people touching his hair.
Reaching up, he takes hold of a hand and guides it down to his head. He avoids Koyama’s eyes the whole time, but he can still detect the surprise when he moans in response to the fingers that slide through his hair.
He goes back to sucking, making a conscious effort not to touch himself when Koyama experimentally tightens his fingers. Revenge is too sweet to lose control again too soon. He drinks up Koyama’s whimpers of “Massu” and “yes” and little wordless moans.
When Koyama eventually starts to lose control of his hips and thrust, Massu pulls away.
“I believe there was something about you fucking me?” he says. His voice is gruff, and he doesn’t need to see through Koyama’s eyes to know his lips are wet, a little swollen. Licking them, he grins up at Koyama.
Little snot, he hears, and then he’s being dragged to his feet and into Koyama’s bedroom, where he’s promptly tumbled into those green sheets. They’re soft, clearly not fresh, but Massu doesn’t really care. Locating a pillow, he squirms around until his head is on it while Koyama digs in the drawer in the nightstand and comes out with lube. Massu watches him slather it onto his fingers, thinking of all the times he’s dreamed of those hands. He wonders how long it would have taken for him to catch on to Koyama’s interest, if he hadn’t suddenly developed mind-reading abilities.
He leaves his legs closed just so Koyama will have to pull them apart, which somehow earns him a brief view of himself with his wrists handcuffed to his ankles when Koyama does. Koyama stares at him when he gasps and groans.
“I haven’t even done anything yet,” he says, smirking.
Yes you have, Massu thinks. Instead he says, “So get going already.”
He’d wanted to keep his cool, to make up for earlier, but he’s panting almost the second Koyama eases a finger in. Koyama watches him the whole time, and he wishes the sun was a light he could turn off, because he feels far too exposed. He can see himself squirm when Koyama finds his prostate, then reach up and grab the headboard with one hand when it happens again.
“Don’t tease,” he pleads.
Laughing, Koyama pushes a second finger in and brushes that spot again. As Massu squirms he says, “But you’re so responsive.”
But they both know Koyama isn’t much better off than Massu, and he doesn’t waste a whole lot of time with the prep, giving up the next time Massu whines at him. One leg is guided up over Koyama’s shoulder, the other held by the ankle and pushed, folded, toward Massu’s chest.
Massu clings to the headboard while Koyama pushes in, tipping his head back and wrapping a hand around his own cock. He jerks with abandon, all care about appearances gone with Koyama filling him over and over. The headboard is tapping against the wall, and he should be embarrassed that the neighbors can hear. He probably will be, later. For now he’s too close.
He starts to think that Koyama’s got mind-reading powers, too, when his hand is suddenly guided away from his cock to hold his leg back just as he’s ready to give in. The one on the headboard meets the same fate, so that he can’t do anything about his erection. Glaring up at Koyama, he tries to listen in on his thoughts but gets nowhere.
Koyama repositions himself, taking a grip on Massu’s hips and driving in, angle shifted enough that he’s brushing Massu’s prostate with every thrust. Massu wails Koyama’s name and arches his back against the pillows, begging until Koyama gives him a hand.
He falls silent as he comes, letting go of his legs in favor of clinging to the sheets. It rips through him like he hasn’t gotten off in a week, let alone last night, leaving him shuddering and a bit giggly.
He lets Koyama turn him over while he finishes off, almost too sensitive but too pleased to care, even when Koyama doesn’t pull out before he comes.
They lie in bed for a few minutes, kissing happily, until Massu’s stomach growls. After a shower, he sits in the kitchen while Koyama makes breakfast. He can’t hear Koyama’s thoughts anymore, but it’s a bit of a relief-he’s exhausted.
When they walk into rehearsals later looking entirely too happy, Shige grins and Tegoshi waggles his eyebrows.
“Shut up,” Massu says. Koyama just wraps an arm around his shoulders and grins harder.
THE END
Pairing/Characters: Koyama/Massu
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, PWP
Prompt: # 38 A knock to the head somehow lands Massu with a case of psychic powers, only problem is that all he can actually hear are everyone's sexual thoughts. [fic]
Summary: Or, Massu finds out that someone’s got a thing for him.
A/N: Much love to T for the last-minute beta. ♥
Massu’s pretty sure that you’re supposed to develop abilities like this overnight, and wake up with them in the morning.
In a few hours, it will occur to him that he’s very, very glad that’s not how it happened.
As it is, he didn’t really notice it starting, though he later decides that it must have been when he’d whacked his head with a door on the way to work. He’s at dance practice with NEWS when he starts to realize he’s having a lot of sexual thoughts he wouldn’t normally have, and about things he doesn’t really fantasize about.
For example, Tegoshi dressed as a cheerleader having sex with a real, female cheerleader. Of the foreign variety. Then a mental image of himself screwing that one guy from Sid, though it doesn’t feel like himself, somehow. And while Massu sort of knows the guy, he only ever crosses Massu’s mind when Shige mentions him, and he’s never thought of having sex with him.
It calms down a little whenever they’re really rehearsing (though once in the middle of a tough move there’s a hardcore bondage one with some woman he’s never even seen before, and Massu nearly trips over Shige), then starts to pick up when they take breaks. It’s on a water break when Massu finds himself fantasizing about sucking himself off, only the penis in question is definitely not his own penis, and Massu doesn’t usually fantasize about his own lips like this.
It’s when the mental image switches to one of come on Massu’s lips and then immediately shifts to a completely unrelated thought of having office sex with Tabe Mikako that he realizes he’s developed the most awkward superpower ever.
He quickly figures that the Tabe one and the one with Tegoshi as a cheerleader are both Tegoshi’s, and the strange woman must be the choreographer’s wife. As they get back into formation and start dancing again, he’s wondering who it is who’s fantasizing about his mouth. Which means he’s not nearly focused enough on dancing, so he’s not really surprised when he actually trips over Shige, resulting in a four-person pig-pile.
“What the fuck, Massu?” Shige says, rubbing his knee. Massu apologizes and tries to get off the floor, but there’s a weight on his back. Watching in the mirror as Koyama clambers off of him, his mind is filled with an image of himself on all fours, someone driving into him from behind. With his eyes resting on Koyama, it’s all too easy for him to imagine the other person in that fantasy is Koyama.
Now he’s not sure it isn’t just his own fantasy. He adjusts his sweatpants and tries to focus on dancing again.
On a brief pause for water, Massu nearly spews his drink everywhere when he tilts his head back for a gulp and hears, Shit, his neck is pretty. This is followed by a mental image of himself arching his back in a bed with green sheets, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth stretched open in a cry. He accidentally inhales the tail end of his mouthful of water, but as he starts to choke he catches Koyama glancing away.
Midway through Massu’s coughing fit, the choreographer sighs and tells them all to go home for the day and come back tomorrow ready to focus, with a pointed glare at Massu.
Tegoshi suggests they go for dinner, and Massu turns him down, because he’s sick of seeing Tegoshi in sexual situations and he’s not sure he can get through dinner erection-free with his mind being filled with images of someone ravaging him. Also, he can hear a little voice in his head wondering about the safety of types of gags Massu didn’t even know existed.
But then he realizes that, if what’s going on is really what he thinks is going on, going home means he’ll get to hear his parents thinking about sex. He scrunches his nose and says, “Wait, no. Let’s go! I say sushi.”
In the end they go for sukiyaki, but he doesn’t really mind.
Halfway through the meal, he’s convinced that Koyama, Shige, and Tegoshi are all bisexual, on top of being perverts. Luckily the restaurant is mostly empty, and the couple in the corner seem to be keeping their minds on each other (though someone briefly fantasizes about the woman making out with the waitress, and he’s not sure it’s the woman’s date). He still has trouble identifying the owners even of the verbal thoughts-he spends a good part of the meal trying to figure out if he normally thinks in his own voice or not.
But by now he thinks he knows which of them wants him. He definitely knows a way to find out that would also spare him the trauma of going home.
“Hey, Koyama,” he starts. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”
It takes a moment for Koyama to stop choking on the beef he’s eating to answer. “Why?”
Shit, reasons. “Umm, my parents are away from home for a couple days, and my sister wants me to go away so she can have her boyfriend over.”
“Oh,” Koyama frowns. “Sure, you can stay over.”
“Ooh, can Shige and me come, too?” Tegoshi asks.
Trust Tegoshi to miss the point. Massu tries not to glower, but Shige rescues him. “Ugh, no. Koyama only has one futon, and none of us should be sleeping on the floor when we’ve got dance rehearsals.”
Get you some, Koyama, comes at the end, but Shige’s mouth isn’t moving. Huh.
They finish eating and part ways, Koyama asking as they leave if Massu needs to get anything. Massu shudders. “No, I’d rather not risk it.”
The car ride back to Koyama’s place is mostly quiet, but at one stoplight Koyama looks at Massu for a long moment. Massu can hear him think, God, I want to get him in the backseat.
A little thrill runs through him, and he turns to meet Koyama’s gaze. Koyama startles and looks forward again. Massu eyes the backseat.
“That backseat is roomier than I expected,” Massu says. “Er, from the outside of the car. Looks comfortable, too.”
Holy shit. He can’t know what I’m thinking. It’s Massu, Massu doesn’t think about sex. Watching the road, Koyama laughs like he always does when Massu says weird things, but this time it’s a bit squeaky. “Why do you mention it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you could take all four of us on a road trip sometime.”
It’s his first time visiting Koyama’s apartment, so he gets the grand tour. It’s small, but Massu’s surprised to find that it has a tiny Japanese-style second bedroom. Koyama’s bedroom is larger, with a nice view of the city from the balcony. The comforter on the bed looks a little worn, but what catches Massu’s eye the most is the edge of green where Koyama hasn’t pulled it up quite high enough to cover the sheets.
The furnishings in the living room are stylish but comfortable, mostly soft beiges with a dark coffee table, probably cherry. They have a while before bed time, so Koyama makes them tea and puts in a Ghibli movie.
Ordinarily, that would be fine-who doesn’t love Ghibli? But watching Chihiro run around the strange bathhouse doesn’t transition well into sex. Which is all Massu really wants to do, now that he’s got confirmation that Koyama wants it, too.
Still at a loss for how to proceed when the credits start rolling, Massu lets Koyama set up the bath and find him some spare clothes. He’s still distinctly not sexed up when he hops into the shower and starts washing off.
The fantasies start up again while he’s sitting on the little stool in the bathroom, shampooing his hair. There’s a flash of his mouth around Koyama’s cock. Then a flustered mental voice says, Fuck, no. Not now, and the image disappears.
It comes back again as Massu starts to rinse out the shampoo. Koyama must give up, then, because it just intensifies. The view spreads to Koyama’s long fingers threading through Massu’s hair, Massu’s eyes looking up at Koyama. He’s half-hard just from that when it switches to them in Koyama’s car again, only this time they’re in the backseat, and Koyama’s taking Massu’s clothes off. Then fantasy-Koyama turns fantasy-Massu around and presses a finger into him, works it in and out and adds more until Massu’s whining and clinging to the door handle.
Even as he wonders just how much Koyama must like fingering people the imagery gets to Massu, and he desperately soaps up and rinses off so that he can wrap his hand around himself when fantasy-Koyama replaces his fingers with his cock. He’s never seen himself from this point of view before; he feels a little narcissistic jerking himself to images of his own swaying back and ass and thighs, which are the recipients of much of this fantasy’s focus.
Koyama must get bored with that, because it transitions rather abruptly to him coming on Massu’s ass and lingers on the mess for a moment, then shifts to an image of him screwing Massu over an office desk somewhere. This time he can see more of Koyama, and they’re both half-dressed in suits, Massu holding his jacket out of the way.
After that it’s a rapid succession of random thoughts, instead of any coherent fantasy. Massu on his hands and knees in the shower, Massu against the mirrors in the practice room, Massu fingering himself on Koyama’s couch, Massu with come on his cheek. The only common theme is Massu, stocky and muscular and with the messy red hairstyles he’s been wearing lately.
Mostly unaware of what he’s doing, Massu slides from the bath stool to his knees on the floor and hunches over as he pulls frantically. At some point the images fade, so he replaces them with his own, of Koyama’s mouth on his cock, of slinking into Koyama’s lap on the couch and grinding, of Koyama pounding him in the back of the car again.
It’s all he can do to come quietly, and he knows his shower has been unusually long. He washes himself off again as quickly as he can, then shuts off the shower and skips the bath. As he towels off, he can hear Koyama’s mental voice frantically going on about washing his hands and how lucky he is that Massu took a long shower.
Koyama is standing in the living room looking flustered when Massu comes out of the shower, shirtless and wearing Koyama’s loosest pajama bottoms.
“Sorry I took so long,” Massu says.
“I-it’s okay,” Koyama brushes past him into the changing room. Sweet mother of bare chests, you’re gorgeous. “Good night.”
The futon is decently comfortable, and it has crisp, fresh sheets, but Massu can’t help but be irritated that it’s not Koyama’s bed he’s sleeping in. He can hear a similar thought drift in from the bathroom just before he falls asleep. Things will be rectified in the morning, he decides, and preferably before breakfast, because he never liked exercising immediately after a meal.
Being an early riser is helpful, in this case. He gets up, brushes his teeth, and washes his face and still has plenty of time to consider his options before Koyama wakes up. He deliberately stays shirtless and arranges his hair into a more artful mess than the one he woke up with.
This time it’s only his own fantasies running through his mind as he scans the room. The table, the couch, the shiny granite counters all enter his mind as places to nab Koyama, but the bed is his ultimate goal. Or should he sneak into Koyama’s room and snuggle until he wakes up?
No, that would result in morning breath. He needs Koyama to brush his teeth first.
Naturally, Koyama stumbles out of bed a few minutes later (delectably shirtless) and heads straight for the teapot without brushing his teeth. Massu intercepts him. “Ew, don’t you brush your teeth in the morning?”
Koyama gives him a bleary look with his eyes barely open and hair sticking up everywhere. Good morning, sexy. “I do that after breakfast.”
Cringing from the wave of unpleasant air, Massu says, “Well, do it now. I’m not talking to you when you have morning breath.”
Koyama shrugs and obeys, and Massu hunts through his kitchen for the tea while he waits, conveniently forgetting to put the kettle on. He’s hunting next to the stove when an arm reaches past him to one of the stove knobs.
“It’ll go faster if you get the water going before setting up the teapot, silly,” says Koyama’s slightly gravelly morning voice, right in Massu’s ear. This time he only smells mint, so he grabs the arm by the wrist and twists the knob back to “OFF.” Then he turns and shoves Koyama back against the counter.
It’s a little undignified, kissing Koyama. In his earlier fantasies, he just swooped up for a kiss, but in reality he has to get his arms over Koyama’s shoulders to steady himself on his tiptoes. Coupled with an alarmed Koyama, he’s probably lucky it didn’t end in concussion for either party. He manages to get his lips against Koyama’s, though, hard and needy, and that seems to be enough for Koyama to get the message. Strong arms wrap around his waist, then, and Koyama kisses back.
Wait, am I really awake? Massu hears, relaxing into Koyama’s arms. He wonders if there’s any way to turn off this stupid ability, because he’s not sure he wants to hear or see what’s going to come next. Since he has no idea how to go about that, he slips his tongue into Koyama’s mouth and does his best to keep him focused.
Koyama gives him an appreciative hum, which apparently translates to, Holy fuck, your mouth is awesome. Massu decides the ability can stick around, at least until he’s memorized the noises Koyama makes with his mouth full and what they mean.
Then Koyama breaks off and looks at him. Just when Massu starts to worry that something’s wrong, Koyama turns them around and slides an arm down under Massu’s rear.
“Jump for me,” he says, and Massu wraps his arms around Koyama’s shoulders and jumps, feeling like a little kid being picked up by his mother. The counter feels cool through his flimsy pajamas as Koyama sets him on it. He wraps his legs around Koyama’s sides and goes back to kissing him. Hands smooth over his sides, then his back. They hesitate for a while, slow down as they slide lower, and Massu can hear Koyama wondering if he’s going to stop him. He drags his teeth along Koyama’s bottom lip and moans, “Koyama.”
“Fuck, you should say that more often,” Koyama says. One hand palms the top of Massu’s ass, then slides over his hip and down his thigh. Massu gasps, unwittingly lets his hips twitch toward the hand as it nearly brushes his crotch, then goes away down his leg. Grinning, Koyama stops midway down his thigh and plays with the pajama fabric with his thumb. Massu tries to grind against him but he backs away, leaving just his teasing hand on Massu’s thigh.
Now he can see himself, sitting on the counter with a hint of an erection, bare-chested with shiny lips and halfway between an irritated pout and puppy dog eyes. You’re so damn cute when you’re irritated, comes Koyama’s mental voice, and Massu sees the pout start to take over on his face.
The hand moves an inch higher, thumb still rubbing maddeningly over the fabric, leaving little sparks wherever it goes. “You want this,” Koyama says.
Massu whines. “Koyama.”
The hand inches higher, sending more of those little sparks through him. It’s not nearly enough.
“Koyama, please,” he tries, deciding he’s not hearing everything now.
This time Koyama runs his fingers ever so lightly over the pajama seam that runs over Massu’s cock.
“What do you want, Massu?” Koyama asks. “Tell me.”
Massu hesitates-he’s not as much of a prude as he used to be, but there are a lot of things he’s still not comfortable with. Then his mind fills with a distracting image of himself, sitting on the counter like he is now, only he’s jerking off under Koyama’s watchful eye, because he wouldn’t tell Koyama what he really wanted. It’s not a wholly unpleasant idea, but he has loftier goals for the morning.
“I want you to touch me,” Massu finally says, looking nervously at Koyama. “I want to suck your cock, and I want you to fuck me. In that order. Please.”
He wants to blow me? Whatever happened to innocent Massu, says an incredulous voice in his head. He tries mentally grumbling back, I didn’t until I was forced to see all your stupid fantasies, but Koyama doesn’t react.
Instead the teasing hand finally exerts some pressure, and Massu bucks up against it. He pulls Koyama back against him and kisses him demandingly as Koyama slips the hand under his pajamas and rubs.
He’s slow and gentle in his ministrations, so that despite his knowledge of the inner workings of Koyama’s filthy, filthy brain, it’s Massu who feels like the desperate whore, rocking into Koyama’s smooth hand and wishing he’d go faster. He refuses to beg again, so he whimpers Koyama’s name while Koyama’s mouth travels over his neck and shoulders. He’s glad that Koyama is at least too close to treat him to a view of himself losing control, but the little mental accusations of slut only make him harder.
Then the hand goes away. He stares at Koyama, dazed and achingly hard.
“I believe there was something about sucking my cock?”
Massu groans. Maybe he should have thought harder before he spoke, earlier. He has half a mind to demand that Koyama finish the job first, but at the same time he doesn't want it to be over. So he slides off the counter, feet hitting the floor with a jarring thunk, shucks his pants because they’re just uncomfortable now, and drops to his knees.
He can see it all happening in his head, his own naked body kneeling in front of Koyama and looking up at him. It makes him feel doubly naked somehow. He tries to focus on his own thoughts. The skin above Koyama’s pajama pants is too smooth to not put his lips on, and he can’t resist wanting to even out their positions a little. So he kisses along Koyama’s hipbone to the top of his pajama bottoms, where he lingers to taste the skin.
“Fuck, Massu,” Koyama says.
Massu runs his teeth along skin as he starts to pull the pants out of the way. The worst part is that his dawdling is only half out of spite. He wonders if Koyama will grab him by the hair and force him if he takes long enough. His own cock twitches at the thought.
“Massu,” Koyama says. “Just suck it already.”
That sounds wonderfully close to begging. Massu grins up at him and licks slowly up the length of his cock, too focused on the way Koyama’s mouth opens and eyes narrow to notice the view of his own face. He wraps his hand around the base as he eases his mouth slowly over the head and sucks.
God, his mouth is perfect, Koyama thinks. Such a compliment can’t go unrewarded, even if Koyama doesn’t know he’s given it, so Massu slides all the way down, pausing to revel in the expletives that fill his mind before backing off and doing it again. Now Koyama’s the desperate one.
Realizing that he hasn’t felt a hand on his head the whole time, Massu looks up to see Koyama clinging to the counter. As he starts to wonder why, he hears, Don’t touch his hair, don’t touch his hair.
Oh, right. Of course Koyama wouldn’t know why Massu doesn’t like people touching his hair.
Reaching up, he takes hold of a hand and guides it down to his head. He avoids Koyama’s eyes the whole time, but he can still detect the surprise when he moans in response to the fingers that slide through his hair.
He goes back to sucking, making a conscious effort not to touch himself when Koyama experimentally tightens his fingers. Revenge is too sweet to lose control again too soon. He drinks up Koyama’s whimpers of “Massu” and “yes” and little wordless moans.
When Koyama eventually starts to lose control of his hips and thrust, Massu pulls away.
“I believe there was something about you fucking me?” he says. His voice is gruff, and he doesn’t need to see through Koyama’s eyes to know his lips are wet, a little swollen. Licking them, he grins up at Koyama.
Little snot, he hears, and then he’s being dragged to his feet and into Koyama’s bedroom, where he’s promptly tumbled into those green sheets. They’re soft, clearly not fresh, but Massu doesn’t really care. Locating a pillow, he squirms around until his head is on it while Koyama digs in the drawer in the nightstand and comes out with lube. Massu watches him slather it onto his fingers, thinking of all the times he’s dreamed of those hands. He wonders how long it would have taken for him to catch on to Koyama’s interest, if he hadn’t suddenly developed mind-reading abilities.
He leaves his legs closed just so Koyama will have to pull them apart, which somehow earns him a brief view of himself with his wrists handcuffed to his ankles when Koyama does. Koyama stares at him when he gasps and groans.
“I haven’t even done anything yet,” he says, smirking.
Yes you have, Massu thinks. Instead he says, “So get going already.”
He’d wanted to keep his cool, to make up for earlier, but he’s panting almost the second Koyama eases a finger in. Koyama watches him the whole time, and he wishes the sun was a light he could turn off, because he feels far too exposed. He can see himself squirm when Koyama finds his prostate, then reach up and grab the headboard with one hand when it happens again.
“Don’t tease,” he pleads.
Laughing, Koyama pushes a second finger in and brushes that spot again. As Massu squirms he says, “But you’re so responsive.”
But they both know Koyama isn’t much better off than Massu, and he doesn’t waste a whole lot of time with the prep, giving up the next time Massu whines at him. One leg is guided up over Koyama’s shoulder, the other held by the ankle and pushed, folded, toward Massu’s chest.
Massu clings to the headboard while Koyama pushes in, tipping his head back and wrapping a hand around his own cock. He jerks with abandon, all care about appearances gone with Koyama filling him over and over. The headboard is tapping against the wall, and he should be embarrassed that the neighbors can hear. He probably will be, later. For now he’s too close.
He starts to think that Koyama’s got mind-reading powers, too, when his hand is suddenly guided away from his cock to hold his leg back just as he’s ready to give in. The one on the headboard meets the same fate, so that he can’t do anything about his erection. Glaring up at Koyama, he tries to listen in on his thoughts but gets nowhere.
Koyama repositions himself, taking a grip on Massu’s hips and driving in, angle shifted enough that he’s brushing Massu’s prostate with every thrust. Massu wails Koyama’s name and arches his back against the pillows, begging until Koyama gives him a hand.
He falls silent as he comes, letting go of his legs in favor of clinging to the sheets. It rips through him like he hasn’t gotten off in a week, let alone last night, leaving him shuddering and a bit giggly.
He lets Koyama turn him over while he finishes off, almost too sensitive but too pleased to care, even when Koyama doesn’t pull out before he comes.
They lie in bed for a few minutes, kissing happily, until Massu’s stomach growls. After a shower, he sits in the kitchen while Koyama makes breakfast. He can’t hear Koyama’s thoughts anymore, but it’s a bit of a relief-he’s exhausted.
When they walk into rehearsals later looking entirely too happy, Shige grins and Tegoshi waggles his eyebrows.
“Shut up,” Massu says. Koyama just wraps an arm around his shoulders and grins harder.
THE END