[One Shot] Journée
My entry for the ohmiya contest. Cross-posted.
Title : Journée
Pairing : Ohmiya
Rating : PG-13
Word Count : 2670
Warning : Very fluffy. Quick ending; sorry about that.
Note : Originally written for dthnhi 's birthday. Happy Birthday again, dear Yuuji <3104 !
Ohno has his rolleiflex tied loosely around his neck, already opening the device with extreme care.
Swiftly, he takes the newly-bought film out of the wrapper, tears away the protective paper and places it in the chamber; extends it slowly, rolls the crank until he hears a faint click sound.
He smiles sleepily.
36 poses, he thinks, are quickly wasted. He promises himself to consider every angle before closing the shutter; he puts on his coat and walks lightly on the cobblestones, soon reaching the train station.
His camera rocks against his chest, square corners pushing against his soft sweater's fabric.
It's 5:43 am when he arrives at Nino's apartment and opens the door soundlessly.
Unsurprisingly, Nino is awake, sitting cross-legged in front of his television screen.
Ohno removes his coat, shoes. He shuffles next to Nino, pokes him in the ribs to announce his presence, and lets himself fall on the floor.
Nino sighs, seeming content.
"Why are you here so early, sloth." He then asks, a hint of malice in his raspy voice.
Ohno shrugs; feels Nino squirms when he does so.
"I'm waiting for the sunrise." He answers, glancing at the window on his right.
Nino nods, then pauses his game.
"And I can safely assume you forgot about breakfast ?" He turns towards Ohno and caresses the camera with the tip of his forefinger, a knowing smile dancing across his lips.
Ohno nods and brings his hand to his neck, slightly blushing, more from simple happiness than embarrassment.
He hears Nino's chuckle from the kitchen, the sound of clattering plates muffling it.
They're both sitting at the small wooden table; Nino's sipping a cup of dark tea, slowly, peacefully; Ohno watches him while finishing his scrambled eggs, carefully swallowing his mouthfuls, for fear to stain himself again. (“and your mother wonders why all your laundry is done here; next time, why don't you tell her my cooking is the best you've ever eaten, if you want to make her cry so much ?”)
As soon as his plate is cleaned, Nino's petite hands pick it up with the emptied cup, waiting for the tap water to become lukewarm.
The sun rises at that moment, and Nino blinks; he squints. Ohno slowly adjusts his camera, aims and decides to close the shutter at the exact moment Nino raises his hand to move his hair out of his eyes.
Ohno grins, thinking of how the picture will look like. He gets up and leans heavily against Nino's frame, circles his waist to support him and asks in a whisper if he needs any help.
Nino smiles, shakes his head, and puts it against Ohno's shoulder, playing with the foam around his fingers. He reaches and covers Ohno's nose with it. He laughs when the latter scrunches his nose, and asks if he can take a picture, drying his hand with a green towel.
Ohno gives him the camera, carefully tying it against the smooth curve of his neck; he points to the crank and the light's scale, and Nino cradles the device with extreme care, looks down into the purple lens and asks Ohno to scrunch up his face again.
Ohno obliges, and Nino snaps two shots : one of his face, and one of his hand resting on the table, fingers folded around the edges, the shades of the skin and wood blending oddly.
Ohno goes to sit on the living room sofa, waiting for Nino to get dressed. He ponders about what he should photograph next. Thirty-three seems like a broad number.
Nino quickly comes back, pale blue t-shirt and faded jeans clinging to him. Ohno makes fun of him for not having the same socks, and why does he even have Doraemon ones, anyway.
Nino sticks his tongue out at him, but still climbs onto his knee, balancing himself with the help of his hand around Ohno's shoulder.
They both bask in the silence, not wanting to disturb anything, not wanting to move.
"Hey," softly, Nino lowers himself against Ohno's right side, feels the warmth of his skin underneath the soft cotton, and he doesn't know why, but he feels slightly nostalgic, "do you ever think we're kind of wasting our time, sitting like this, and doing nothing ?"
Ohno tickles Nino's nape lightly, his fingers grazing back and forth slowly.
"I don't think we do anything constructive, anyway."
Nino nods, closes his eyes.
"Apart from the sex, of course." He quickly adds, familiar smirk and playful glance thrown at Ohno.
“And the fishing ?” Ohno tries next, naïve look blossoming on his face as he recalls one of his numerous fishing trip.
Nino sighs and mumbles something that Ohno catches as “whatever”. He suddenly grabs Nino’s thumb, and fixes his gaze upon it, fascinated.
Nino’s puzzled, but doesn’t move. Not when Ohno looks so intensely focused.
“Can I take a picture of your thumb ?” Ohno asks brightly, readying his camera again. The younger man pouts, hides his hands behind his back.
“I don’t really like my hands. And my thumbs are really not that great.” He chews on his lower lip, uncomfortable.
Ohno makes a ‘tsk’ sound and reaches for Nino’s right hand, holding the thumb out and indicating to Nino that he shouldn’t move.
“You’re going to pay for this” is the only warning Nino gives, but he stays still.
Ohno takes two poses, then places the camera on the table delicately. He’s humming a familiar melody.
Nino rakes his hand through his hair, an awkward feeling traveling up his spine as he thinks of the pictures.
“Your hands are cute, you know.” Ohno’s smile is reassuring, and somehow seductive, Nino thinks.
Just then, Ohno chooses his moment to approach him slowly, his face only centimeters apart from Nino’s. He looks a little bit cross-eyed, and his eyelashes are tickling Nino’s skin.
Nino is grateful. Grateful because Ohno always knows the right timing. Because Ohno never rushes things; he waits, and he doesn’t mind. He knows that Nino is scared, deep inside, of so many things, and he knows that it’s hard for him to open up when he’s so used to shielding himself constantly.
Their lips meet. Only the sound of their breathing is filling the room, and soon enough, Nino sighs heavily, shuddering. He starts to move, ever so slowly, and Ohno plays with the hair under his ear.
Nino smiles from the sensation, and Ohno grins a bit too much, because he loves it when Nino is so soft and pleased.
They part shortly after, and Nino’s eyes shine; the blush on his cheek is bright, almost vivid, and Ohno’s eyes widen with inspiration. He grabs his camera, doesn’t bother with the settings: he just takes a picture of Nino, still breathless, still devouring him with scorching eyes.
Naturally, Ohno chooses that exact moment to sneeze.
This leaves Nino out of breath from excessive chuckling, and Ohno could not be any more scarlet right now. He tries to push Nino off of him with clumsy movements, only to find himself straddled the next second.
He briefly wonders if he should act clumsier, or if, on the contrary, a bit of dexterity wouldn’t hurt.
Nino pecks his nose and he figures he doesn’t have to do anything, really.
He hums.
“You’re pretty.” He mouths, the distance between him and Nino so reduced that he could think the words and Nino would probably be able to hear him.
And smack him mentally, which wouldn’t hurt as much.
“I’m not a girl. Say I’m ‘handsome’.” Nino retrieves his hand from the top of Ohno’s head, not before dropping a small caress, just in case he really hurt him.
“I can’t help it, you’re cute and pretty. Not really handsome. That’s more Sho, or Masaki.”
Nino pouts, crosses his arms and rests his chin on them, narrowing his eyes. Ohno looks uneasy.
“More making out ?” He tries, tentatively smiling. Nino huffs.
“You can bitch all you want, Kaz’, I will not say that cheesy line”. Ohno declares, uninterested. He removes the boy from his chest, then proceeds to do the same with his sweater.
“Why can’t you say it,” Nino curls his arms around his legs, frowning at his boyfriend. “You don’t lo--”
Ohno quickly presses his hand on his mouth, shaking his head.
“It loses its meaning if it’s said carelessly.” He pokes Nino’s cheek with his finger. “You, of all people, should know that.”
Nino’s questioning look clearly indicates that he’s not following him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve mistaken you with someone else; someone who writes deep, emotional love songs about unrequited feelings.” He nods to himself, and Nino tackles his knees.
Ohno falls on his back, winces. Nino smirks.
“They were all written for you, idiot.” He murmurs.
He looks oddly serious, so instead of a snarky remark, Ohno strokes his forehead with the back of his hand. He leaves his hand there, palm warm against Nino’s head.
And then, Nino wants to ruin everything, Ohno decides, and gets up. The slight boy retrieves his guitar case from under the sofa, and Ohno kicks an eyebrow.
“I like it here,” Nino says, defensive. “You put your lures in your bedside table.” He adds, wincing as a painful evening comes back to his mind.
While Nino accords the tensed cords of his guitar, Ohno carefully kneels near him, frames the boy’s profile with a hand and three cords; a strand of hair and the queue; a swift, slow movement of his thumb brushing against a raspy cord.
Ohno can’t seem to stop, and before he knows it, he’s taken nine clichés. He stops when the silence becomes heavy, when he notices Nino’s thoughtful stare upon his face. Puzzled, he blinks. Nino seems lost, away.
Ohno lets it go, because he knows one of Nino’s quirks is to look at him for some sort of inspiration. He doesn’t know how it comes to him, how he interprets it. He just knows that his usual quiet self seems to bring something to the boy, a rush of emotions.
He should feel embarrassed, uncomfortable; he strangely isn’t. He knows he has his own kind of focus as well, he knows that he likes to touch, to feel, and if he can do it with Nino’s hands, or with an experimental touch on Nino’s jaw, a feather’s path on his pale wrist- then that’s how they communicate, find their senses, their marks.
“Satoshi, could you come here and make sure my feet don’t turn into ice cubes, please ?” Nino bats his eyelashes at Ohno, who crawls next to him with a sigh.
“This” Ohno declares, poiting at Nino’s foot in his lap, “is what happens when one is too cheap to afford slippers.”
“Aw, but then where’s the fun in having you as a feet slave ?”
Ohno squeezes his foot.
“I wish you’d be my slave, for once” he says, hope present in his voice. “and I could make you my personal puppy. I’d call you Ni-chan, and you’d walk with me in the park. You’ll look happily at other dogs’ butts, and I’ll give you a treat for not humping the neighbour’s Chihuahua.”
Nino looks disturbed, and kicks Ohno to make him stop talking.
“First of all, you’re weird. And second, I’m only interested in your butt. If you’d stop feeding rabid fangirls with shots of it in every tv show we host, I’d be quite happy, too.”
Ohno’s smiling knowingly, “ah, they like it all so much. My mum told me once I could make a fortune if I’d sell myself.”
Nino’s hand stops strumming his guitar.
“Your mother has issues.” He concludes, “what shall we do today ?” he then asks, looking up at Ohno, who’s counting on his fingers the salary he’d earn if he sold his body instead of being an idol.
“Hm ? Well, I was thinking of doing nothing and molesting you later. Possibly take pictures during said act so I can prove to Masaki that I am in fact a real man who knows ‘how to take care of the lady’. Why, what did you want to do ?”
“Same, except for the molesting part. I was thinking very gay evening where I’d trick you into making gentle love to me.”
“Gentle ?” Ohno raises an eyebrow. “Are you ill or something ?”
“Nah, just trying to fulfill my dream of becoming like Jun.”
Ohno chuckles openly, shaking his head.
They spend their afternoon quite in the same way, lounging on each other and talking about their lives.
Ohno occasionally leans on Nino to steal a kiss, while the latter tries his best at invading Ohno’s space to the point where he has trouble breathing (but that may just be caused by the very intense kiss he decides to give him after Ohno compliments the mole on his chin for the tenth time).
They forget about the time and it’s night already. Ohno has taken some more shots, and he doesn’t know if they’re any good anymore because he doesn’t remember taking that many; Nino, however, has a mischievous smile and Ohno’s pretty sure he’ll get a surprise once in his black room.
Nino fixes them dinner, and they eat silently. Ohno’s too focused on the food to talk, and Nino watches the sun set with a deep sigh.
“The day’s already over.” He murmurs, and Ohno stops his fork halfway to his mouth.
“It just means the night’s about to begin, Kaz’.” He grins sheepishly.
Nino can’t help but return the smile.
Ohno steals a t-shirt and strips his jeans off, not before calling his mother to reassure her that he’s not dead, and that she does not need in any way to alert the police nor Johnny’s Entertainment that he disappeared.
The boss wasn’t very happy about the last three incidents.
Nino settles with him on the bed, and Ohno plays with his hair while the younger man reads, his glasses slipping off his nose.
So of course, Ohno decides to make him pose with them.
He’s soon out of film, and pouts sadly.
Nino smiles, a fond look on his face, and puts his book aside.
“You’ll take more another day.” He says, pinching Ohno’s cheeks. “Plus, I need some more cuddling from you. Remember the gentle love making I was promised ?”
Ohno rolls his eyes, but pushes the slight boy onto the cushions anyway.
“I never promised anything.” He whispers, hovering above Nino, whose breathing is becoming shallower.
Little hands grab at his neck, and they both drown in their kisses.
The night seems blurry and fast as they move alongside each other, craving for more touch, more fire.
They fall asleep entwined, so close it’s hard to feel which limbs belongs to whom, and which arm is stuck right in that spot.
Morning arrives, and Nino wakes up alone.
He sighs in frustration, and kicks his boxers out of the way. The apartment is empty.
Ohno feels something crawling on his stomach, and he suddenly remembers his mother saying something about flesh-eating insects in the area.
He instantly relaxes when he feels a slight puff of air next to his ear.
Then moans in pain as his ear is being bitten off by a very angry Ninomiya.
“How dare you leave me alone after such a night ?”
He bites harder.
“Playing hard to get ?” Nino adds, his arms restraining Ohno’s movements.
“I’m sorry. I just really wanted to develop those,” he points towards the recipient filled with water, a red glow surrounding them.
Nino licks his ear while looking at one picture already drying above them. His breath catches in his throat.
“I took this one.” He whispers, and Ohno puts his hand over his, squeezing gently.
“Yeah. It’s us, Kaz’.” Ohno states, rather uselessly.
Nino just nods, his chin digging in Ohno’s shoulder.
“Can I have it ?”
Ohno answers with a kiss.
Title : Journée
Pairing : Ohmiya
Rating : PG-13
Word Count : 2670
Warning : Very fluffy. Quick ending; sorry about that.
Note : Originally written for dthnhi 's birthday. Happy Birthday again, dear Yuuji <3104 !
Ohno has his rolleiflex tied loosely around his neck, already opening the device with extreme care.
Swiftly, he takes the newly-bought film out of the wrapper, tears away the protective paper and places it in the chamber; extends it slowly, rolls the crank until he hears a faint click sound.
He smiles sleepily.
36 poses, he thinks, are quickly wasted. He promises himself to consider every angle before closing the shutter; he puts on his coat and walks lightly on the cobblestones, soon reaching the train station.
His camera rocks against his chest, square corners pushing against his soft sweater's fabric.
It's 5:43 am when he arrives at Nino's apartment and opens the door soundlessly.
Unsurprisingly, Nino is awake, sitting cross-legged in front of his television screen.
Ohno removes his coat, shoes. He shuffles next to Nino, pokes him in the ribs to announce his presence, and lets himself fall on the floor.
Nino sighs, seeming content.
"Why are you here so early, sloth." He then asks, a hint of malice in his raspy voice.
Ohno shrugs; feels Nino squirms when he does so.
"I'm waiting for the sunrise." He answers, glancing at the window on his right.
Nino nods, then pauses his game.
"And I can safely assume you forgot about breakfast ?" He turns towards Ohno and caresses the camera with the tip of his forefinger, a knowing smile dancing across his lips.
Ohno nods and brings his hand to his neck, slightly blushing, more from simple happiness than embarrassment.
He hears Nino's chuckle from the kitchen, the sound of clattering plates muffling it.
They're both sitting at the small wooden table; Nino's sipping a cup of dark tea, slowly, peacefully; Ohno watches him while finishing his scrambled eggs, carefully swallowing his mouthfuls, for fear to stain himself again. (“and your mother wonders why all your laundry is done here; next time, why don't you tell her my cooking is the best you've ever eaten, if you want to make her cry so much ?”)
As soon as his plate is cleaned, Nino's petite hands pick it up with the emptied cup, waiting for the tap water to become lukewarm.
The sun rises at that moment, and Nino blinks; he squints. Ohno slowly adjusts his camera, aims and decides to close the shutter at the exact moment Nino raises his hand to move his hair out of his eyes.
Ohno grins, thinking of how the picture will look like. He gets up and leans heavily against Nino's frame, circles his waist to support him and asks in a whisper if he needs any help.
Nino smiles, shakes his head, and puts it against Ohno's shoulder, playing with the foam around his fingers. He reaches and covers Ohno's nose with it. He laughs when the latter scrunches his nose, and asks if he can take a picture, drying his hand with a green towel.
Ohno gives him the camera, carefully tying it against the smooth curve of his neck; he points to the crank and the light's scale, and Nino cradles the device with extreme care, looks down into the purple lens and asks Ohno to scrunch up his face again.
Ohno obliges, and Nino snaps two shots : one of his face, and one of his hand resting on the table, fingers folded around the edges, the shades of the skin and wood blending oddly.
Ohno goes to sit on the living room sofa, waiting for Nino to get dressed. He ponders about what he should photograph next. Thirty-three seems like a broad number.
Nino quickly comes back, pale blue t-shirt and faded jeans clinging to him. Ohno makes fun of him for not having the same socks, and why does he even have Doraemon ones, anyway.
Nino sticks his tongue out at him, but still climbs onto his knee, balancing himself with the help of his hand around Ohno's shoulder.
They both bask in the silence, not wanting to disturb anything, not wanting to move.
"Hey," softly, Nino lowers himself against Ohno's right side, feels the warmth of his skin underneath the soft cotton, and he doesn't know why, but he feels slightly nostalgic, "do you ever think we're kind of wasting our time, sitting like this, and doing nothing ?"
Ohno tickles Nino's nape lightly, his fingers grazing back and forth slowly.
"I don't think we do anything constructive, anyway."
Nino nods, closes his eyes.
"Apart from the sex, of course." He quickly adds, familiar smirk and playful glance thrown at Ohno.
“And the fishing ?” Ohno tries next, naïve look blossoming on his face as he recalls one of his numerous fishing trip.
Nino sighs and mumbles something that Ohno catches as “whatever”. He suddenly grabs Nino’s thumb, and fixes his gaze upon it, fascinated.
Nino’s puzzled, but doesn’t move. Not when Ohno looks so intensely focused.
“Can I take a picture of your thumb ?” Ohno asks brightly, readying his camera again. The younger man pouts, hides his hands behind his back.
“I don’t really like my hands. And my thumbs are really not that great.” He chews on his lower lip, uncomfortable.
Ohno makes a ‘tsk’ sound and reaches for Nino’s right hand, holding the thumb out and indicating to Nino that he shouldn’t move.
“You’re going to pay for this” is the only warning Nino gives, but he stays still.
Ohno takes two poses, then places the camera on the table delicately. He’s humming a familiar melody.
Nino rakes his hand through his hair, an awkward feeling traveling up his spine as he thinks of the pictures.
“Your hands are cute, you know.” Ohno’s smile is reassuring, and somehow seductive, Nino thinks.
Just then, Ohno chooses his moment to approach him slowly, his face only centimeters apart from Nino’s. He looks a little bit cross-eyed, and his eyelashes are tickling Nino’s skin.
Nino is grateful. Grateful because Ohno always knows the right timing. Because Ohno never rushes things; he waits, and he doesn’t mind. He knows that Nino is scared, deep inside, of so many things, and he knows that it’s hard for him to open up when he’s so used to shielding himself constantly.
Their lips meet. Only the sound of their breathing is filling the room, and soon enough, Nino sighs heavily, shuddering. He starts to move, ever so slowly, and Ohno plays with the hair under his ear.
Nino smiles from the sensation, and Ohno grins a bit too much, because he loves it when Nino is so soft and pleased.
They part shortly after, and Nino’s eyes shine; the blush on his cheek is bright, almost vivid, and Ohno’s eyes widen with inspiration. He grabs his camera, doesn’t bother with the settings: he just takes a picture of Nino, still breathless, still devouring him with scorching eyes.
Naturally, Ohno chooses that exact moment to sneeze.
This leaves Nino out of breath from excessive chuckling, and Ohno could not be any more scarlet right now. He tries to push Nino off of him with clumsy movements, only to find himself straddled the next second.
He briefly wonders if he should act clumsier, or if, on the contrary, a bit of dexterity wouldn’t hurt.
Nino pecks his nose and he figures he doesn’t have to do anything, really.
He hums.
“You’re pretty.” He mouths, the distance between him and Nino so reduced that he could think the words and Nino would probably be able to hear him.
And smack him mentally, which wouldn’t hurt as much.
“I’m not a girl. Say I’m ‘handsome’.” Nino retrieves his hand from the top of Ohno’s head, not before dropping a small caress, just in case he really hurt him.
“I can’t help it, you’re cute and pretty. Not really handsome. That’s more Sho, or Masaki.”
Nino pouts, crosses his arms and rests his chin on them, narrowing his eyes. Ohno looks uneasy.
“More making out ?” He tries, tentatively smiling. Nino huffs.
“You can bitch all you want, Kaz’, I will not say that cheesy line”. Ohno declares, uninterested. He removes the boy from his chest, then proceeds to do the same with his sweater.
“Why can’t you say it,” Nino curls his arms around his legs, frowning at his boyfriend. “You don’t lo--”
Ohno quickly presses his hand on his mouth, shaking his head.
“It loses its meaning if it’s said carelessly.” He pokes Nino’s cheek with his finger. “You, of all people, should know that.”
Nino’s questioning look clearly indicates that he’s not following him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve mistaken you with someone else; someone who writes deep, emotional love songs about unrequited feelings.” He nods to himself, and Nino tackles his knees.
Ohno falls on his back, winces. Nino smirks.
“They were all written for you, idiot.” He murmurs.
He looks oddly serious, so instead of a snarky remark, Ohno strokes his forehead with the back of his hand. He leaves his hand there, palm warm against Nino’s head.
And then, Nino wants to ruin everything, Ohno decides, and gets up. The slight boy retrieves his guitar case from under the sofa, and Ohno kicks an eyebrow.
“I like it here,” Nino says, defensive. “You put your lures in your bedside table.” He adds, wincing as a painful evening comes back to his mind.
While Nino accords the tensed cords of his guitar, Ohno carefully kneels near him, frames the boy’s profile with a hand and three cords; a strand of hair and the queue; a swift, slow movement of his thumb brushing against a raspy cord.
Ohno can’t seem to stop, and before he knows it, he’s taken nine clichés. He stops when the silence becomes heavy, when he notices Nino’s thoughtful stare upon his face. Puzzled, he blinks. Nino seems lost, away.
Ohno lets it go, because he knows one of Nino’s quirks is to look at him for some sort of inspiration. He doesn’t know how it comes to him, how he interprets it. He just knows that his usual quiet self seems to bring something to the boy, a rush of emotions.
He should feel embarrassed, uncomfortable; he strangely isn’t. He knows he has his own kind of focus as well, he knows that he likes to touch, to feel, and if he can do it with Nino’s hands, or with an experimental touch on Nino’s jaw, a feather’s path on his pale wrist- then that’s how they communicate, find their senses, their marks.
“Satoshi, could you come here and make sure my feet don’t turn into ice cubes, please ?” Nino bats his eyelashes at Ohno, who crawls next to him with a sigh.
“This” Ohno declares, poiting at Nino’s foot in his lap, “is what happens when one is too cheap to afford slippers.”
“Aw, but then where’s the fun in having you as a feet slave ?”
Ohno squeezes his foot.
“I wish you’d be my slave, for once” he says, hope present in his voice. “and I could make you my personal puppy. I’d call you Ni-chan, and you’d walk with me in the park. You’ll look happily at other dogs’ butts, and I’ll give you a treat for not humping the neighbour’s Chihuahua.”
Nino looks disturbed, and kicks Ohno to make him stop talking.
“First of all, you’re weird. And second, I’m only interested in your butt. If you’d stop feeding rabid fangirls with shots of it in every tv show we host, I’d be quite happy, too.”
Ohno’s smiling knowingly, “ah, they like it all so much. My mum told me once I could make a fortune if I’d sell myself.”
Nino’s hand stops strumming his guitar.
“Your mother has issues.” He concludes, “what shall we do today ?” he then asks, looking up at Ohno, who’s counting on his fingers the salary he’d earn if he sold his body instead of being an idol.
“Hm ? Well, I was thinking of doing nothing and molesting you later. Possibly take pictures during said act so I can prove to Masaki that I am in fact a real man who knows ‘how to take care of the lady’. Why, what did you want to do ?”
“Same, except for the molesting part. I was thinking very gay evening where I’d trick you into making gentle love to me.”
“Gentle ?” Ohno raises an eyebrow. “Are you ill or something ?”
“Nah, just trying to fulfill my dream of becoming like Jun.”
Ohno chuckles openly, shaking his head.
They spend their afternoon quite in the same way, lounging on each other and talking about their lives.
Ohno occasionally leans on Nino to steal a kiss, while the latter tries his best at invading Ohno’s space to the point where he has trouble breathing (but that may just be caused by the very intense kiss he decides to give him after Ohno compliments the mole on his chin for the tenth time).
They forget about the time and it’s night already. Ohno has taken some more shots, and he doesn’t know if they’re any good anymore because he doesn’t remember taking that many; Nino, however, has a mischievous smile and Ohno’s pretty sure he’ll get a surprise once in his black room.
Nino fixes them dinner, and they eat silently. Ohno’s too focused on the food to talk, and Nino watches the sun set with a deep sigh.
“The day’s already over.” He murmurs, and Ohno stops his fork halfway to his mouth.
“It just means the night’s about to begin, Kaz’.” He grins sheepishly.
Nino can’t help but return the smile.
Ohno steals a t-shirt and strips his jeans off, not before calling his mother to reassure her that he’s not dead, and that she does not need in any way to alert the police nor Johnny’s Entertainment that he disappeared.
The boss wasn’t very happy about the last three incidents.
Nino settles with him on the bed, and Ohno plays with his hair while the younger man reads, his glasses slipping off his nose.
So of course, Ohno decides to make him pose with them.
He’s soon out of film, and pouts sadly.
Nino smiles, a fond look on his face, and puts his book aside.
“You’ll take more another day.” He says, pinching Ohno’s cheeks. “Plus, I need some more cuddling from you. Remember the gentle love making I was promised ?”
Ohno rolls his eyes, but pushes the slight boy onto the cushions anyway.
“I never promised anything.” He whispers, hovering above Nino, whose breathing is becoming shallower.
Little hands grab at his neck, and they both drown in their kisses.
The night seems blurry and fast as they move alongside each other, craving for more touch, more fire.
They fall asleep entwined, so close it’s hard to feel which limbs belongs to whom, and which arm is stuck right in that spot.
Morning arrives, and Nino wakes up alone.
He sighs in frustration, and kicks his boxers out of the way. The apartment is empty.
Ohno feels something crawling on his stomach, and he suddenly remembers his mother saying something about flesh-eating insects in the area.
He instantly relaxes when he feels a slight puff of air next to his ear.
Then moans in pain as his ear is being bitten off by a very angry Ninomiya.
“How dare you leave me alone after such a night ?”
He bites harder.
“Playing hard to get ?” Nino adds, his arms restraining Ohno’s movements.
“I’m sorry. I just really wanted to develop those,” he points towards the recipient filled with water, a red glow surrounding them.
Nino licks his ear while looking at one picture already drying above them. His breath catches in his throat.
“I took this one.” He whispers, and Ohno puts his hand over his, squeezing gently.
“Yeah. It’s us, Kaz’.” Ohno states, rather uselessly.
Nino just nods, his chin digging in Ohno’s shoulder.
“Can I have it ?”
Ohno answers with a kiss.