EchoEchoEcho
Title: EchoEchoEcho
Characters/Pairing: Koyama/Yamapi, Koyama/Massu/Yamapi
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1,505
Warnings: Creepy, irregular tense changes, insanity (yes, really)
Summary: Sanity is overrated. Koyama's out of the hospital and trying to pick up the pieces.
Notes: Sequel to 'Hope' is the thing with feathers. You will not understand it if you haven't read the first. Fair warning. It's weird.
-=-
Six months, twelve days. Yamashita was the one to pick him up from the base (he'd insisted), pulling up in his sleek black convertible with soft, tan leather interior, all smooth curves and bright angles and Koyama smiled at him because they looked alike. He wondered If Yamashita felt whole in his car, if it completed him, complemented him, because they looked like one, Yamashita's bronzed skin contrasted with the glossy black of his hair, dark lashes lining his eyes. "Hi," he said shyly, ghosting his fingers over the immaculate finish before reaching for the handle.
"Hi," Yamashita replied softly, smiling sheepishly.
Koyama wondered if he still blamed himself. He hoped not. He smiled back, brilliant, as he slipped into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed with a quiet click, and watched Yamashita's smile relax, widen. There we are. Yamashita kept the top down and Koyama didn't mind. He'd had enough of talking for a while. This was more important, feeling the wind rush through his hair, reacquainting himself with the smells of the outside and it made him giddy, that warm, earthy, sort of salty scent, so nostalgic and not at all like the cold, metallic (shuddershudder and his breath sticks in his chest, a warm hand on his shoulder from behind and a brief, strong scent of sunshine, and he's breathing again… Yamashita hadn't noticed) air of the station or chilly, overwhelmingly antiseptic scent of the hospital wing of the base. (He waits for a warm breath in his ear but if it comes, it's blown away before it reaches him.)
Though it was clear Yamashita wanted to stay - he bit his cheek, lips pursing in a way Koyama associated with Yamashita as indecision - he didn't even get out of the car, just put his hand on Koyama's shoulder and squeezed, smiled sadly. "I'll call you sometime later." Translation: I'm worried and I want to talk but I wouldn't know what to say and it's bad enough that I took the privilege of being the one to drive you home … I miss you.
Koyama placed his hand over Yamashita's and smiled back. "Don't wait too long." A good enough good-bye and he stood on the sidewalk, watching the convertible fade into the asphalt. Then he turned, walked up to the door, braced himself, deep breath, and turned the handle. His mother made it into his arms in four seconds flat, crying all over him and he wasn't surprised to find himself doing the same, smiling through his tears and laughing. (The smell of sunshine is strong and warm against his back.)
-=-
"So…" Yamashita said, running his thumb through the condensation on his glass and twisting his lips into a wry smile. "All better."
"Declared sane," Koyama agreed and twirled his straw between his fingers, keeping his eyes on Yamashita's face.
They were silent for a while, Yamashita contemplating his glass and chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, and Koyama watching him, and then Yamashita said, "Thanks," and Koyama already knew what it was for, nodded his head, and knew the subject was done, history. It was freedom and he felt a weight lift from him, warmth spreading through his chest and heart thudding loudly in his ears (a smile out of the corner of his eye, focused on Yamashita, and his own lips curl up in happiness as he recognizes the extra feeling.)
They began by treading softly, filling in gaps in knowledge, coffee out, trips to adventure parks at which point Koyama's abject fear of heights made itself present, and Yamashita guffawed as he tried not to laugh out of amazement.
"And you're an astronaut?" he asked incredulously, then fell silent, a slight blush rushing to his cheeks because he clearly wasn't certain about that terrain just yet. Too soon?
Were Koyama thought (but feels warms hands brushing the trembling from his limbs) and replied, "It's different. I can't see the heights when we take off, and once you're in space… you're not above anything… you're..." he paused, tried to grasp his words and continued, "surrounded. There's no up or down in space, is there? So you can't be high any more than low. So it doesn't apply."
"That's really…" Yamashita said.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Trips out changed into nights in, watching movies, cooking, laughing, touching, talking, and Koyama wondered if he was the only one feeling the pull. Yamashita had always been hard to read but he'd had practice and he thought he wasn't. The only one, that was.
When Yamashita paused mid-sentence one night to lean forward and press soft lips against his own, Koyama sighed and smiled, laying a hand against Yamashita's chest and tilting his head (tingling warmth spreads through him and a giddy sort of mirth, warm, happy laughter in his ear and Yamashita's tongue swiping across his lower lip.)
Careful, they were so careful, nurturing their newfound love with shy hope, quickened heartbeats and the gentle press of lips against sensitive skin (fingertips dragging down Yamashita's skin while he has both hands gripped in Yamashita's hair and it's strange, unreal, amazing as he chokes on his exhale and hears Yamashita's name ring out), murmured declarations in the night, doting smiles and lingering touches in the day.
They lay twined together, Yamashita's leg tossed over Koyama's bony hip and he listened with sleepy adoration to his deep breathing. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned up and ran his free hand down Yamashita's side and looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes, a soft, adoring smile he knew matched his own.
"You love him," the smooth, honey voice says.
"And you," Koyama replies, nodding. Then he felt a little selfish. "Do you…" he trails off.
But Massu knows, of course. He places his hand over Koyama's, squeezes, and Koyama slipped out of bed to go to kneel at the edge, feeling his hands running over Yamashita's body and Yamashita's sleepy groan vibrating against his chest. Massu coaxes Yamashita onto his back before leaning over him, pressing their lips together in what looks like an almost-chaste kiss except that Koyama wasn't fooled because he felt it, the pent-up hunger behind it, felt Yamashita melt into it, and the guilt increased because Massu must have wanted this for so long.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from them, peeks of tongue in a sloppy-sleepy makeout that had him hardening, his breath speeding up, and the smooth feel of Yamashita's skin under his fingers as he watched making him moan. Massu's fingers are soft, loving, as he explores, maps Yamashita's skin even though he's felt it so many times before. The drag of Massu's lips down Yamashita's chest, the feeling of a tightened nipple on his tongue and Koyama didn't know what to do with himself, even as Yamashita's hands came up to rub over Massu's body and made him shiver at the touch.
He felt a coldness on his fingertips and then quick, deft fingers slip down Yamashita's balls, down, to push against the resistance and Massu takes him into his mouth, the hot, heavy weight against Koyama's tongue and he moaned. Already a mess and Koyama was so overwhelmed, unsure of the sensations, writhing against them all, hard as a rock and the friction of the sheets against him as Massu spread his legs just enough to make contact. Yamashita's hands were in his hair, tugging, "More more more," he mumbled hoarsely, and Massu grins as he pulls off, positioning himself and pushing in carefully, staying still until Yamashita was forced to rock against him, impaling himself a little further with each thrust and Koyama was moaning with abandon, Massu's smooth voice gone hoarse and they sound so good together, the three of them. Then there are hands everywhere and warm heat around him and it felt so good, so good, tears threatened. "Please," Koyama whimpered, and watched Yamashita watching Massu and chanting, "Kei Kei Kei," and Massu watches Koyama, finally giving in, gripping the curve of Yamashita's hips in his hands and thrusting hard against him. They can't last long, Koyama knew because it felt too good, and Massu's face is flushed. Yamashita's eyes were screwed shut as he whimpered, groaned, tightened, and Massu is watching Koyama and Koyama wasn't watching anything because he was climaxing with a shout, shuddering.
Koyama cleaned them both up, tottering on jelly legs, and then snuggled up against Yamashita, Massu a warm feeling at his back and Yamashita was smiling sleepily at him and laughing a little. "You're insatiable, you know?" Koyama just smiled and nuzzled his cheek over Yamashita's heart, his own gloriously overfull. He wondered if Yamashita had any idea, but it didn't matter, and it was best not to tell him (a squeeze to his thigh because they both know they never want to have to go back to the hospital)… lovers come and go - though they really love Yamashita (Massu's arm slinking across his own to rub fingers gently through Yamashita's hair)- but you have yourself forever.
Characters/Pairing: Koyama/Yamapi, Koyama/Massu/Yamapi
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1,505
Warnings: Creepy, irregular tense changes, insanity (yes, really)
Summary: Sanity is overrated. Koyama's out of the hospital and trying to pick up the pieces.
Notes: Sequel to 'Hope' is the thing with feathers. You will not understand it if you haven't read the first. Fair warning. It's weird.
-=-
Six months, twelve days. Yamashita was the one to pick him up from the base (he'd insisted), pulling up in his sleek black convertible with soft, tan leather interior, all smooth curves and bright angles and Koyama smiled at him because they looked alike. He wondered If Yamashita felt whole in his car, if it completed him, complemented him, because they looked like one, Yamashita's bronzed skin contrasted with the glossy black of his hair, dark lashes lining his eyes. "Hi," he said shyly, ghosting his fingers over the immaculate finish before reaching for the handle.
"Hi," Yamashita replied softly, smiling sheepishly.
Koyama wondered if he still blamed himself. He hoped not. He smiled back, brilliant, as he slipped into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed with a quiet click, and watched Yamashita's smile relax, widen. There we are. Yamashita kept the top down and Koyama didn't mind. He'd had enough of talking for a while. This was more important, feeling the wind rush through his hair, reacquainting himself with the smells of the outside and it made him giddy, that warm, earthy, sort of salty scent, so nostalgic and not at all like the cold, metallic (shuddershudder and his breath sticks in his chest, a warm hand on his shoulder from behind and a brief, strong scent of sunshine, and he's breathing again… Yamashita hadn't noticed) air of the station or chilly, overwhelmingly antiseptic scent of the hospital wing of the base. (He waits for a warm breath in his ear but if it comes, it's blown away before it reaches him.)
Though it was clear Yamashita wanted to stay - he bit his cheek, lips pursing in a way Koyama associated with Yamashita as indecision - he didn't even get out of the car, just put his hand on Koyama's shoulder and squeezed, smiled sadly. "I'll call you sometime later." Translation: I'm worried and I want to talk but I wouldn't know what to say and it's bad enough that I took the privilege of being the one to drive you home … I miss you.
Koyama placed his hand over Yamashita's and smiled back. "Don't wait too long." A good enough good-bye and he stood on the sidewalk, watching the convertible fade into the asphalt. Then he turned, walked up to the door, braced himself, deep breath, and turned the handle. His mother made it into his arms in four seconds flat, crying all over him and he wasn't surprised to find himself doing the same, smiling through his tears and laughing. (The smell of sunshine is strong and warm against his back.)
-=-
"So…" Yamashita said, running his thumb through the condensation on his glass and twisting his lips into a wry smile. "All better."
"Declared sane," Koyama agreed and twirled his straw between his fingers, keeping his eyes on Yamashita's face.
They were silent for a while, Yamashita contemplating his glass and chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, and Koyama watching him, and then Yamashita said, "Thanks," and Koyama already knew what it was for, nodded his head, and knew the subject was done, history. It was freedom and he felt a weight lift from him, warmth spreading through his chest and heart thudding loudly in his ears (a smile out of the corner of his eye, focused on Yamashita, and his own lips curl up in happiness as he recognizes the extra feeling.)
They began by treading softly, filling in gaps in knowledge, coffee out, trips to adventure parks at which point Koyama's abject fear of heights made itself present, and Yamashita guffawed as he tried not to laugh out of amazement.
"And you're an astronaut?" he asked incredulously, then fell silent, a slight blush rushing to his cheeks because he clearly wasn't certain about that terrain just yet. Too soon?
Were Koyama thought (but feels warms hands brushing the trembling from his limbs) and replied, "It's different. I can't see the heights when we take off, and once you're in space… you're not above anything… you're..." he paused, tried to grasp his words and continued, "surrounded. There's no up or down in space, is there? So you can't be high any more than low. So it doesn't apply."
"That's really…" Yamashita said.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Trips out changed into nights in, watching movies, cooking, laughing, touching, talking, and Koyama wondered if he was the only one feeling the pull. Yamashita had always been hard to read but he'd had practice and he thought he wasn't. The only one, that was.
When Yamashita paused mid-sentence one night to lean forward and press soft lips against his own, Koyama sighed and smiled, laying a hand against Yamashita's chest and tilting his head (tingling warmth spreads through him and a giddy sort of mirth, warm, happy laughter in his ear and Yamashita's tongue swiping across his lower lip.)
Careful, they were so careful, nurturing their newfound love with shy hope, quickened heartbeats and the gentle press of lips against sensitive skin (fingertips dragging down Yamashita's skin while he has both hands gripped in Yamashita's hair and it's strange, unreal, amazing as he chokes on his exhale and hears Yamashita's name ring out), murmured declarations in the night, doting smiles and lingering touches in the day.
They lay twined together, Yamashita's leg tossed over Koyama's bony hip and he listened with sleepy adoration to his deep breathing. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned up and ran his free hand down Yamashita's side and looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes, a soft, adoring smile he knew matched his own.
"You love him," the smooth, honey voice says.
"And you," Koyama replies, nodding. Then he felt a little selfish. "Do you…" he trails off.
But Massu knows, of course. He places his hand over Koyama's, squeezes, and Koyama slipped out of bed to go to kneel at the edge, feeling his hands running over Yamashita's body and Yamashita's sleepy groan vibrating against his chest. Massu coaxes Yamashita onto his back before leaning over him, pressing their lips together in what looks like an almost-chaste kiss except that Koyama wasn't fooled because he felt it, the pent-up hunger behind it, felt Yamashita melt into it, and the guilt increased because Massu must have wanted this for so long.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from them, peeks of tongue in a sloppy-sleepy makeout that had him hardening, his breath speeding up, and the smooth feel of Yamashita's skin under his fingers as he watched making him moan. Massu's fingers are soft, loving, as he explores, maps Yamashita's skin even though he's felt it so many times before. The drag of Massu's lips down Yamashita's chest, the feeling of a tightened nipple on his tongue and Koyama didn't know what to do with himself, even as Yamashita's hands came up to rub over Massu's body and made him shiver at the touch.
He felt a coldness on his fingertips and then quick, deft fingers slip down Yamashita's balls, down, to push against the resistance and Massu takes him into his mouth, the hot, heavy weight against Koyama's tongue and he moaned. Already a mess and Koyama was so overwhelmed, unsure of the sensations, writhing against them all, hard as a rock and the friction of the sheets against him as Massu spread his legs just enough to make contact. Yamashita's hands were in his hair, tugging, "More more more," he mumbled hoarsely, and Massu grins as he pulls off, positioning himself and pushing in carefully, staying still until Yamashita was forced to rock against him, impaling himself a little further with each thrust and Koyama was moaning with abandon, Massu's smooth voice gone hoarse and they sound so good together, the three of them. Then there are hands everywhere and warm heat around him and it felt so good, so good, tears threatened. "Please," Koyama whimpered, and watched Yamashita watching Massu and chanting, "Kei Kei Kei," and Massu watches Koyama, finally giving in, gripping the curve of Yamashita's hips in his hands and thrusting hard against him. They can't last long, Koyama knew because it felt too good, and Massu's face is flushed. Yamashita's eyes were screwed shut as he whimpered, groaned, tightened, and Massu is watching Koyama and Koyama wasn't watching anything because he was climaxing with a shout, shuddering.
Koyama cleaned them both up, tottering on jelly legs, and then snuggled up against Yamashita, Massu a warm feeling at his back and Yamashita was smiling sleepily at him and laughing a little. "You're insatiable, you know?" Koyama just smiled and nuzzled his cheek over Yamashita's heart, his own gloriously overfull. He wondered if Yamashita had any idea, but it didn't matter, and it was best not to tell him (a squeeze to his thigh because they both know they never want to have to go back to the hospital)… lovers come and go - though they really love Yamashita (Massu's arm slinking across his own to rub fingers gently through Yamashita's hair)- but you have yourself forever.