Drabble Batch #7
Title: Just for tonight
Pairing: Koyama/Yamapi
Rating: PG-15?
Words: 637
Yamashita always felt so stereotypical every time his heart jumped in his chest at the other man’s touch; when he felt himself go all fuzzy around the edges at his smile; when he couldn’t keep himself from touching him whenever he was close enough or wishing he could when he wasn’t; because Koyama didn’t love him.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Koyama did love him, in a way, looked up to him, cared for him, would do anything for him, and Yamashita took advantage of it, despite himself.
It had started out innocently enough, Koyama offering him a lap for his weary head, bringing him cold drinks on hot days and leaning against him for warmth on cold ones. Yamashita didn’t know when it happened but, suddenly, Koyama’s absence was a palpable presence.
Yamashita was busy; he had so much work and too many friends - or maybe it was the other way around - and Koyama was always flattered when Yamashita would ask him over, take time out of his busy schedule for Koyama, and he never said no.
Koyama was naturally a touchy person, as Yamashita was not, and Yamashita reveled in Koyama’s initial fleeting touches, taking foever to be comfortable enough to return them, until they worked up to cuddling shamelessly on Yamashita’s leather couch as Koyama watched a movie, running slender fingers through Yamashita’s hair, and Yamashita half-slept and let every touch send tremors through him.
The day Yamashita sat up from where he leaned, tired and stressed, against Koyama’s shoulder to press insistent lips against Koyama’s, he told himself he just needed release, an outlet. Koyama had remained still, shocked, and Yamashita should have stopped then, apologized, but he hadn’t. Instead he’d snaked fingers through Koyama’s hair and kissed him harder, licking deliberately across Koyama’s lower lip until he relaxed and gave in, bringing his hand to Yamashita’s shoulder.
Just for tonight turned into just until the end of filming into just until after the tour is over. He tried not to be jealous of Koyama’s casual girlfriends, hating that Koyama didn’t take him seriously and being grateful at the same time.
“Don’t you get tired of taking care of me?” he asked Koyama one day as he walked in on him putting away Yamashita’s trash that he’d left scattered over the table. He felt a little ashamed of himself.
Koyama had just blinked at him and smiled a bit. “It’s a habit by now, isn’t it? I don’t mind,” he said patiently. He’d looked away too soon to see Yamashita’s eyes go blank.
He’d pulled Koyama into his room that night and taken him hard against the wall. He used everything he knew about Koyama - I know you he was trying to tell him, see how good I can make you feel - to make him wail his name as he chanted Koyama’s over and over, face pressed into his neck - the words he wasn’t saying heavy on his tongue.
“Stay with me tonight,” he’d told him quietly after a shower and frowned at Koyama’s nervous face. “You stay with Shige all the time when we have our own rooms.”
Koyama pulled on the room’s extra yukata as he thought.
“Please.” I need you he knew Koyama heard from the serious, weighing look he gave him.
Koyama hesitated, fluttering with indecision at the edge of the bed. But finally, wordlessly, Koyama crawled into bed next to him, turning away and letting Yamashita spoon him, and Yamashita could feel him tense against him. He stroked his hand down Koyama’s side to his hip again and again before sliding his hand across the lean stomach to rest in the hollow of his abdomen as Koyama relaxed against him.
He closed his eyes and lived in the moment. He knew Koyama didn’t love him. But he wanted to believe it. Just for tonight.
#17 “Addicted” Ryo - writing music, guitar G
Ryo sat huddled against the wall, head bowed so low over his guitar one would think he were asleep if it weren’t for the rocking and his fingers flying over the fretboard. He stood, suddenly, and thrust his guitar away from him, lowering it to the floor less than carefully to scrub hands through his already ravaged hair. He stalked around the room before heating up a cup of water and dipping a teabag into it.
He could feel the melody running around in the back of his head and he kept track of it trying not to touch it lest it fade away. He pressed his fingers against the hot ceramic of the teacup, hissing and pulling away his left hand to examine the pads of his fingers. They were red, so red, blood rising to the surface and a single smear of blood across the edge of his sensitive ring finger. He gripped the cup again, searing away the painful sensation that had resurfaced once he’d stopped thinking about the music.
He drank half the cup before setting it down in a rush, and practically running to his guitar, slinging it into his lap and bending over it again, forcing abused fingers to fly, only pausing every now and then to mark hurried notations across the lined paper before him, not even noticing himself sucking a bleeding finger into his mouth even as he registered the tang of blood and metal.
"Don't Rock the Boat" TegoPi - R - Just because I like torturing Cait.
"What'd I say about sitting in my lap like that?" Yamapi asked Tegoshi reprovingly.
"There's no one around. I believe that was the constraint."
He slid his hands into the back pockets of Tegoshi's too-tight jeans and rocked up against him, pulling Tegoshi down hard.
He was just getting to the good part, hard erections rubbing against rough fabric and building into little spikes of pleasure that curled his toes. He was busy sucking a mark into the smooth skin of Tegoshi's neck when the door banged open and his head shot up to see Shige standing in the doorway, mouth open.
"Urgh. Gross. Can't you guys wait ‘til you get home or something?"
And Tegoshi never stopped rocking. Damnit.
Pairing: Koyama/Yamapi
Rating: PG-15?
Words: 637
Yamashita always felt so stereotypical every time his heart jumped in his chest at the other man’s touch; when he felt himself go all fuzzy around the edges at his smile; when he couldn’t keep himself from touching him whenever he was close enough or wishing he could when he wasn’t; because Koyama didn’t love him.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Koyama did love him, in a way, looked up to him, cared for him, would do anything for him, and Yamashita took advantage of it, despite himself.
It had started out innocently enough, Koyama offering him a lap for his weary head, bringing him cold drinks on hot days and leaning against him for warmth on cold ones. Yamashita didn’t know when it happened but, suddenly, Koyama’s absence was a palpable presence.
Yamashita was busy; he had so much work and too many friends - or maybe it was the other way around - and Koyama was always flattered when Yamashita would ask him over, take time out of his busy schedule for Koyama, and he never said no.
Koyama was naturally a touchy person, as Yamashita was not, and Yamashita reveled in Koyama’s initial fleeting touches, taking foever to be comfortable enough to return them, until they worked up to cuddling shamelessly on Yamashita’s leather couch as Koyama watched a movie, running slender fingers through Yamashita’s hair, and Yamashita half-slept and let every touch send tremors through him.
The day Yamashita sat up from where he leaned, tired and stressed, against Koyama’s shoulder to press insistent lips against Koyama’s, he told himself he just needed release, an outlet. Koyama had remained still, shocked, and Yamashita should have stopped then, apologized, but he hadn’t. Instead he’d snaked fingers through Koyama’s hair and kissed him harder, licking deliberately across Koyama’s lower lip until he relaxed and gave in, bringing his hand to Yamashita’s shoulder.
Just for tonight turned into just until the end of filming into just until after the tour is over. He tried not to be jealous of Koyama’s casual girlfriends, hating that Koyama didn’t take him seriously and being grateful at the same time.
“Don’t you get tired of taking care of me?” he asked Koyama one day as he walked in on him putting away Yamashita’s trash that he’d left scattered over the table. He felt a little ashamed of himself.
Koyama had just blinked at him and smiled a bit. “It’s a habit by now, isn’t it? I don’t mind,” he said patiently. He’d looked away too soon to see Yamashita’s eyes go blank.
He’d pulled Koyama into his room that night and taken him hard against the wall. He used everything he knew about Koyama - I know you he was trying to tell him, see how good I can make you feel - to make him wail his name as he chanted Koyama’s over and over, face pressed into his neck - the words he wasn’t saying heavy on his tongue.
“Stay with me tonight,” he’d told him quietly after a shower and frowned at Koyama’s nervous face. “You stay with Shige all the time when we have our own rooms.”
Koyama pulled on the room’s extra yukata as he thought.
“Please.” I need you he knew Koyama heard from the serious, weighing look he gave him.
Koyama hesitated, fluttering with indecision at the edge of the bed. But finally, wordlessly, Koyama crawled into bed next to him, turning away and letting Yamashita spoon him, and Yamashita could feel him tense against him. He stroked his hand down Koyama’s side to his hip again and again before sliding his hand across the lean stomach to rest in the hollow of his abdomen as Koyama relaxed against him.
He closed his eyes and lived in the moment. He knew Koyama didn’t love him. But he wanted to believe it. Just for tonight.
#17 “Addicted” Ryo - writing music, guitar G
Ryo sat huddled against the wall, head bowed so low over his guitar one would think he were asleep if it weren’t for the rocking and his fingers flying over the fretboard. He stood, suddenly, and thrust his guitar away from him, lowering it to the floor less than carefully to scrub hands through his already ravaged hair. He stalked around the room before heating up a cup of water and dipping a teabag into it.
He could feel the melody running around in the back of his head and he kept track of it trying not to touch it lest it fade away. He pressed his fingers against the hot ceramic of the teacup, hissing and pulling away his left hand to examine the pads of his fingers. They were red, so red, blood rising to the surface and a single smear of blood across the edge of his sensitive ring finger. He gripped the cup again, searing away the painful sensation that had resurfaced once he’d stopped thinking about the music.
He drank half the cup before setting it down in a rush, and practically running to his guitar, slinging it into his lap and bending over it again, forcing abused fingers to fly, only pausing every now and then to mark hurried notations across the lined paper before him, not even noticing himself sucking a bleeding finger into his mouth even as he registered the tang of blood and metal.
"Don't Rock the Boat" TegoPi - R - Just because I like torturing Cait.
"What'd I say about sitting in my lap like that?" Yamapi asked Tegoshi reprovingly.
"There's no one around. I believe that was the constraint."
He slid his hands into the back pockets of Tegoshi's too-tight jeans and rocked up against him, pulling Tegoshi down hard.
He was just getting to the good part, hard erections rubbing against rough fabric and building into little spikes of pleasure that curled his toes. He was busy sucking a mark into the smooth skin of Tegoshi's neck when the door banged open and his head shot up to see Shige standing in the doorway, mouth open.
"Urgh. Gross. Can't you guys wait ‘til you get home or something?"
And Tegoshi never stopped rocking. Damnit.