little of your time (4/5) [arashi rps]
Title: Little of Your Time [4/6]
Author: waxrose
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Nino/Jun with Aiba/Jun and one-sided Ohno/Nino
Length: ~2,600 words [Story total = ~9,000]
Author's Notes: I decided that I wanted to explore things from Nino's POV for a bit, and consequently, have added on an additional two chapters. The first two parts of this chapter pick up from the Aiba/Jun backstory from Part 2 - same concert tour, the next night, basically. The next update will be the last, and with luck, it won't be too long in coming. All my love to omnipresentdmat for looking this over! ♥ Also, thanks to everyone who's been so patient and supportive with my snail-like progress on this fic.
Summary: A remix of this drabble, originally done for aoimidori.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
five years ago:
In retrospect, Nino realized all along that it was a bad idea. What frustrates him the most is that even despite that, he was still stupid - or desperate - enough to try it. He acted on the faintest shred of hope that every reasonable thought that had led him to that conclusion was wrong.
And then it blew up in his face, just like he knew it would.
It's Sho's hotel room and Sho's porn film, but Sho had run down to grab some beer from the vending machine in the lobby so here they are, and Nino has nothing to distract him from the fact that Ohno is sitting close enough that their thighs are pressed together and Ohno is obviously hard and fairly fixated on the moaning couple on the screen.
It's very brief, and a bit anti-climatic, which is frustrating in and of itself - Nino's been in - well, no, he doesn't want to say in love with Ohno, that just implied a gooey, hearts and roses and white chocolate sort of idea, pining after him in dressing rooms and crying into his pillow at night. It wasn't really like that - it began with a thought, with a careless, unpinned thought about something insignificant, like the way Ohno's eyes crinkled up when he smiled, or his slow, meandering walk. And just like that, set adrift in his mind, there and acknowledged, the thought began to spiral and it slowly became a feeling, a pattern of noticing and thinking and wanting that felt reckless and good and guilty in a way that filled him up and made him feel emptier than ever all at once.
However, it never occurred to Nino that he might ever actually act on it, and he's probably just as shocked as Ohno when he realizes that he's undone the zipper of Ohno's jeans, his hand stilled on the solid heat of the erection tenting Ohno's underwear.
"Nino?" Ohno asks, and he doesn't sound angry or disgusted, just confused and a little breathless. Nino can't meet his eyes, it's too embarrassing.
The door clicks and Sho appears, clutching three cans of beer and grinning. "Success!" He dumps them on the bed and Nino abruptly moves further away from Ohno, who looks awkward and confused and still hasn't zipped up his fly.
Nino can feel Ohno watching him, and he keeps his own eyes on the screen, barely aware of the images flashing across it. He sips his lukewarm beer and suppresses the urge to run and hide. The air feels heavy, stifling and Nino wants nothing more than to be in his hotel room down the hall.
Aiba is already asleep in his bed when Nino comes in - he's coming down with a cold and is under strict orders to not strain himself before tomorrow's concert. Nino strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed next to him, fitting himself into the curve of Aiba's body. Aiba's radiating heat like a furnace and Nino presses his forehead against the burning hot skin of Aiba's chest, feeling sick and shaky and somehow sad and angry at the same time.
"Nino?" Aiba asks sleepily, his voice scratchy. His arms wrap around Nino automatically. What Nino loves best about Aiba is that he won't ask any questions, won't try to pin down the problem or even acknowledge that Nino is in any way being weird. He just holds Nino even tighter.
They lie like that for long minutes, until Nino's breathing begins to even out and he doesn't feel like he's going to start bawling like a thirteen-year old girl into Aiba's shoulder. Aiba is breathing kind of loudly in his ear, and he might be asleep, but Nino doesn't want to pull back to check. This is nice, it's peaceful. Nino breathes in, out, enjoying the pressing half-darkness of the hotel room, the muted sounds of people in the corridor.
The door opens a crack and Nino instantly stiffens, closing his eyes. They all habitually share key cards to each other's rooms among the members, so there's only a few people it could possibly be. Nino didn't think that Ohno would come looking for him, he wasn't really the type to want to talk about things. And he was pretty sure that Sho had been too absorbed to really notice him leaving, but -
Aiba slides out of bed next to him and pads over to the door, the strip of light leaking into the room narrowing. Nino listens to the hushed voices from in the hallway just outside the room.
"…no, not tonight. Nino is - " Aiba's voice sounds apologetic.
Jun's voice is low, kind of awkwardly cheerful. "I just wanted to, you know - talk about it. If you wanted to."
"Ah, talk?" Aiba says, and Nino lifts his head a little off the pillow so he can hear better. "What did you want to talk about, Jun-kun?"
"It's just," Nino frowns, it wasn't like Jun to mumble his way through a conversation. "It was - fun, right?"
"Sure," Aiba agrees carefully. "Listen, Matsujun, we don't really have to talk about it. If you're - you know, worried or anything? Don't be."
"I'm not," Jun says, almost defiantly. "It's fine."
"Okay, then?" Aiba says, and the door opens up a little more again and Nino misses Jun's reply as he quickly flops back down onto the bed, pretending to be asleep again.
"I know you're awake," Aiba informs him as he slides down next to Nino again, stealing the covers back from him.
Nino rolls over so that he's not completely invading Aiba's side of the bed anymore. "Your feet are cold," he whines, kicking when Aiba grins and presses his feet against Nino's legs. "Did you and Jun?-" he asks, too curious to pretend that he hadn't been listening.
"Oh. We did, yeah. Last night, you know, after you all left his room?" Nino is amazed how Aiba can be so unselfconscious about something like this. "I think he's probably feeling pretty bad about it, maybe. He'll come around after awhile, I guess. Just need to act normal." Aiba fluffs up his pillow, settling back down. "I hope I didn't give him my cold," he adds, sounding concerned.
Nino can't help but feel just a little jealous, but he clears his throat. "Guess so." Normal, he thinks, an unpleasant nervous flutter and heave in his chest at the idea of facing Ohno in the morning. Could he possibly bluff his way out of this one? Could he laugh it off?
He could, he supposes, just tell the truth. But he is tired, so tired. He can't face Ohno's anger, his disgust, his sympathy, whatever he might give Nino. Nino has exhausted all of his courage and stupidity in those two seconds he had stuck his hand in Ohno Satoshi's pants and he isn't even sure how much he cares anymore.
*
"Nino," Ohno says a few weeks later, out of the blue, when they're sitting alone in a green room and curled up into each other, both exhausted, tossing back and forth ideas for a possible Ohmiya SK skit. "You know that it wouldn't work, right?"
Nino stiffens, his head still in Ohno's lap, letting his long fingers card through his hair. Ohno's been quiet all evening, and he's been touching Nino more often lately, with a questioning, almost sad look in his eyes. They haven't really talked about it - Nino is, understandably, still embarrassed and angry with himself and just grateful that Ohno seems determined to act like everything is fine.
Nino can read Ohno too well to not know what he means, but he pretends not to understand anyways. "Of course we could pull off a mid-air pose for the skit. We might need wires, but -"
"Nino." Ohno's voice is patient, but unusually firm. "You know I'm not talking about that anymore."
Nino closes his eyes, only marginally aware of Ohno's fingers skritching comfortingly behind his ears. "I know," he says, quietly and he's proud to discover that his voice doesn't crack at all. "Look - it was stupid, and. I know, I really do."
Honestly, he almost wishes that Ohno would get mad, would try to put some distance between them, because this is even more painful with Ohno's soft, sad voice and Ohno's warm fingers softly stroking against the nape of his neck. He's been telling himself for six weeks now that he has more than enough reason to just let go, but that's never been an easy thing for him to do.
"I know that you don't love me," he says bluntly, proud of himself for making it sound casual and almost amused, but also for finally saying what he means, what he feels.
Ohno's fingers tighten in his hair. "That's not true. I do love you."
Nino knows that, too, knows that Ohno really does love him, just like he loves Jun and Aiba and Sho. It's an easy kind of love, the kind that asks for little, that's been carefully built through so many years of familiarity and routine and expectations that it's almost a given. It's a lot, it's almost overwhelming in itself, and Nino feels selfish for wanting just that much more.
"Don't be such a girl." Nino flops over so that his head is fully in Ohno's lap and he can look up at Ohno without hurting his neck. "What makes you think I'm still mooning over you, anyways? You aren't so special."
"I've seen you staring at my ass in the showers, don't lie," Ohno says cheerfully. "The glazed eyes and drool on your chin really showed your lack of interest, by the way."
Nino laughs, feeling relief crack through the lump in his throat. They're still them. It may not be what he wanted, it may be less than he asked for, but it's more than he could have expected, all things considered. "It is a very nice ass," he agrees politely.
*
six months ago:
Once again, it's probably a bad idea. This has been firmly established in Nino's mind. And not just for his own sake this time - he's watched closely over the past few years, seeing small little things he might have otherwise missed illuminated. Jun's grown up, self-assured and confident, but Nino doesn't miss the way he goes all soft-eyed around Aiba. He wonders if Jun tried to talk about it again. He somehow thinks that Aiba's flippancy towards the whole ordeal might have been kind of a stupid idea.
He wants to tell Aiba this, but something holds him back. Aiba would probably laugh, amazed that Nino even remembered, even still thought about something that happened so long ago, and why?
Nino doesn't know. He just somehow feels like he understands when he watches Jun watch Aiba, all restraint and resignation, coupled with a stubborn sort of wanting that Nino gets completely.
He really does wonder if Aiba didn't notice at all. The funny thing about Aiba was that he always did everything for what he thought was the best. Nino was sure that if Aiba didn't think that Jun hadn't written off what had happened between them all those years ago as a one-time thing, something to remember fondly and from a distance, stupid moments of their youth - he was sure that, Aiba being Aiba, he might actually go for what he wanted.
Nino honestly doesn't want to fuck that up for them. That's sad, that's just pathetic.
That aside, he's still here, three hours after everyone finally met up for drinks - three staff members have already asked him he's sick, and when he denied it with some confusion and asked why, they had said "You're still here," as if that explained it all. Nino wasn't drunk, but he'd had a few beers for appearances sake, listening quietly to the conversations and riotous laughter, fiddling absently with his trump cards.
Aiba is across the room at the bar, engrossed in conversation with the pretty, short new AD. Nino can see the resolute flicker in Jun's expression as he tugs on his coat, and Nino practically leaps out of his seat, jamming his cap onto his head as Jun heads for the door.
He catches up with Jun just outside, under the bar's awning - it's raining hard outside now, the sky a murky sort of yellow-grey.
"Did you park close?" Jun asks. He hasn't got an umbrella, and neither does Nino. It was brilliantly sunny when he left home this morning and he has, like all five of them, fallen into the bad habit of getting used to a profession where there's always someone else penciling in your calendar and arranging your lunches and giving you an umbrella when it starts to rain.
"No," Nino says. His heart feels like it's thumping unnaturally fast, and he shifts on his feet. "I took a taxi."
"Oh," Jun says, and he looks concerned, looks like he's about to offer a ride, and Nino is going to go crazy if he doesn't do this now. His fingers skim against Jun's wrist as he leans forward, the warm skin almost a shock to his senses, the movement unstoppable as he leans closer.
Nino pauses a half-inch from Jun's face, surprised to find that he has one of Jun's hands in a vice-like grip. "Jun," he says, low, evenly. He doesn't really want to talk about this, doesn't even understand himself why he's taking this chance.
He can see the bob of Jun's throat as he swallows and Nino's so sure that he isn't wrong. He knows that Jun, of all people, understands what Nino means, and what it's costing him.
"Not here," Jun murmurs, after what feels like an eternity, tearing his wrist from Nino's grip. His eyes are dark, serious and Nino relaxes almost imperceptibly.
They run quickly down the street, rain soaking them clear through their jackets, shirts sticking to the skin like wet tissue. They're both shivering and clammy and laughing by the time they reach Jun's car, and Jun catches Nino's eyes and grins. It makes the car ride less awkward, gives a handy pretense to going over to Jun's apartment for warm towels and fresh clothes, even though it's embarrassingly obvious to both of them what he's actually there for.
Nino's stomach doesn't unknot until Jun casually draws the shower curtain back and steps in behind him, all smooth bare skin and confidence. Nino's known him long enough to be able to see him masking uncertainty, even if Jun's very good at it, they both are. It's easier to just kiss Jun, soft at first and then getting harder, hotter, all hunger and desperation that slowly claws up past the layers of careful pretense. Neither of them are pretending anymore now.
Jun hands him a towel after they finally climb out of the shower, reaches over to rub his towel roughly over Nino's hair. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, breaking the silence.
Nino can't really nod or shake his head under the towel anyways, so he just stays still and lets Jun finish drying his hair. "Let's not talk about it, okay?" It's an easy way out, it's really just buying time, but if Nino stops to think about this, it almost feels like the whole tentatively built structure of logic and wants and choices will just collapse.
Jun studies him carefully as Nino emerges from under the towel. "Okay," he murmurs quietly, trailing a finger across Nino's lips, moaning slightly when Nino lets his finger slip into his mouth, sucking on it. "Fine."
And they don't.
to be continued.
Part 5
cross-posted to kotobayori
Author: waxrose
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Nino/Jun with Aiba/Jun and one-sided Ohno/Nino
Length: ~2,600 words [Story total = ~9,000]
Author's Notes: I decided that I wanted to explore things from Nino's POV for a bit, and consequently, have added on an additional two chapters. The first two parts of this chapter pick up from the Aiba/Jun backstory from Part 2 - same concert tour, the next night, basically. The next update will be the last, and with luck, it won't be too long in coming. All my love to omnipresentdmat for looking this over! ♥ Also, thanks to everyone who's been so patient and supportive with my snail-like progress on this fic.
Summary: A remix of this drabble, originally done for aoimidori.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
five years ago:
In retrospect, Nino realized all along that it was a bad idea. What frustrates him the most is that even despite that, he was still stupid - or desperate - enough to try it. He acted on the faintest shred of hope that every reasonable thought that had led him to that conclusion was wrong.
And then it blew up in his face, just like he knew it would.
It's Sho's hotel room and Sho's porn film, but Sho had run down to grab some beer from the vending machine in the lobby so here they are, and Nino has nothing to distract him from the fact that Ohno is sitting close enough that their thighs are pressed together and Ohno is obviously hard and fairly fixated on the moaning couple on the screen.
It's very brief, and a bit anti-climatic, which is frustrating in and of itself - Nino's been in - well, no, he doesn't want to say in love with Ohno, that just implied a gooey, hearts and roses and white chocolate sort of idea, pining after him in dressing rooms and crying into his pillow at night. It wasn't really like that - it began with a thought, with a careless, unpinned thought about something insignificant, like the way Ohno's eyes crinkled up when he smiled, or his slow, meandering walk. And just like that, set adrift in his mind, there and acknowledged, the thought began to spiral and it slowly became a feeling, a pattern of noticing and thinking and wanting that felt reckless and good and guilty in a way that filled him up and made him feel emptier than ever all at once.
However, it never occurred to Nino that he might ever actually act on it, and he's probably just as shocked as Ohno when he realizes that he's undone the zipper of Ohno's jeans, his hand stilled on the solid heat of the erection tenting Ohno's underwear.
"Nino?" Ohno asks, and he doesn't sound angry or disgusted, just confused and a little breathless. Nino can't meet his eyes, it's too embarrassing.
The door clicks and Sho appears, clutching three cans of beer and grinning. "Success!" He dumps them on the bed and Nino abruptly moves further away from Ohno, who looks awkward and confused and still hasn't zipped up his fly.
Nino can feel Ohno watching him, and he keeps his own eyes on the screen, barely aware of the images flashing across it. He sips his lukewarm beer and suppresses the urge to run and hide. The air feels heavy, stifling and Nino wants nothing more than to be in his hotel room down the hall.
Aiba is already asleep in his bed when Nino comes in - he's coming down with a cold and is under strict orders to not strain himself before tomorrow's concert. Nino strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed next to him, fitting himself into the curve of Aiba's body. Aiba's radiating heat like a furnace and Nino presses his forehead against the burning hot skin of Aiba's chest, feeling sick and shaky and somehow sad and angry at the same time.
"Nino?" Aiba asks sleepily, his voice scratchy. His arms wrap around Nino automatically. What Nino loves best about Aiba is that he won't ask any questions, won't try to pin down the problem or even acknowledge that Nino is in any way being weird. He just holds Nino even tighter.
They lie like that for long minutes, until Nino's breathing begins to even out and he doesn't feel like he's going to start bawling like a thirteen-year old girl into Aiba's shoulder. Aiba is breathing kind of loudly in his ear, and he might be asleep, but Nino doesn't want to pull back to check. This is nice, it's peaceful. Nino breathes in, out, enjoying the pressing half-darkness of the hotel room, the muted sounds of people in the corridor.
The door opens a crack and Nino instantly stiffens, closing his eyes. They all habitually share key cards to each other's rooms among the members, so there's only a few people it could possibly be. Nino didn't think that Ohno would come looking for him, he wasn't really the type to want to talk about things. And he was pretty sure that Sho had been too absorbed to really notice him leaving, but -
Aiba slides out of bed next to him and pads over to the door, the strip of light leaking into the room narrowing. Nino listens to the hushed voices from in the hallway just outside the room.
"…no, not tonight. Nino is - " Aiba's voice sounds apologetic.
Jun's voice is low, kind of awkwardly cheerful. "I just wanted to, you know - talk about it. If you wanted to."
"Ah, talk?" Aiba says, and Nino lifts his head a little off the pillow so he can hear better. "What did you want to talk about, Jun-kun?"
"It's just," Nino frowns, it wasn't like Jun to mumble his way through a conversation. "It was - fun, right?"
"Sure," Aiba agrees carefully. "Listen, Matsujun, we don't really have to talk about it. If you're - you know, worried or anything? Don't be."
"I'm not," Jun says, almost defiantly. "It's fine."
"Okay, then?" Aiba says, and the door opens up a little more again and Nino misses Jun's reply as he quickly flops back down onto the bed, pretending to be asleep again.
"I know you're awake," Aiba informs him as he slides down next to Nino again, stealing the covers back from him.
Nino rolls over so that he's not completely invading Aiba's side of the bed anymore. "Your feet are cold," he whines, kicking when Aiba grins and presses his feet against Nino's legs. "Did you and Jun?-" he asks, too curious to pretend that he hadn't been listening.
"Oh. We did, yeah. Last night, you know, after you all left his room?" Nino is amazed how Aiba can be so unselfconscious about something like this. "I think he's probably feeling pretty bad about it, maybe. He'll come around after awhile, I guess. Just need to act normal." Aiba fluffs up his pillow, settling back down. "I hope I didn't give him my cold," he adds, sounding concerned.
Nino can't help but feel just a little jealous, but he clears his throat. "Guess so." Normal, he thinks, an unpleasant nervous flutter and heave in his chest at the idea of facing Ohno in the morning. Could he possibly bluff his way out of this one? Could he laugh it off?
He could, he supposes, just tell the truth. But he is tired, so tired. He can't face Ohno's anger, his disgust, his sympathy, whatever he might give Nino. Nino has exhausted all of his courage and stupidity in those two seconds he had stuck his hand in Ohno Satoshi's pants and he isn't even sure how much he cares anymore.
*
"Nino," Ohno says a few weeks later, out of the blue, when they're sitting alone in a green room and curled up into each other, both exhausted, tossing back and forth ideas for a possible Ohmiya SK skit. "You know that it wouldn't work, right?"
Nino stiffens, his head still in Ohno's lap, letting his long fingers card through his hair. Ohno's been quiet all evening, and he's been touching Nino more often lately, with a questioning, almost sad look in his eyes. They haven't really talked about it - Nino is, understandably, still embarrassed and angry with himself and just grateful that Ohno seems determined to act like everything is fine.
Nino can read Ohno too well to not know what he means, but he pretends not to understand anyways. "Of course we could pull off a mid-air pose for the skit. We might need wires, but -"
"Nino." Ohno's voice is patient, but unusually firm. "You know I'm not talking about that anymore."
Nino closes his eyes, only marginally aware of Ohno's fingers skritching comfortingly behind his ears. "I know," he says, quietly and he's proud to discover that his voice doesn't crack at all. "Look - it was stupid, and. I know, I really do."
Honestly, he almost wishes that Ohno would get mad, would try to put some distance between them, because this is even more painful with Ohno's soft, sad voice and Ohno's warm fingers softly stroking against the nape of his neck. He's been telling himself for six weeks now that he has more than enough reason to just let go, but that's never been an easy thing for him to do.
"I know that you don't love me," he says bluntly, proud of himself for making it sound casual and almost amused, but also for finally saying what he means, what he feels.
Ohno's fingers tighten in his hair. "That's not true. I do love you."
Nino knows that, too, knows that Ohno really does love him, just like he loves Jun and Aiba and Sho. It's an easy kind of love, the kind that asks for little, that's been carefully built through so many years of familiarity and routine and expectations that it's almost a given. It's a lot, it's almost overwhelming in itself, and Nino feels selfish for wanting just that much more.
"Don't be such a girl." Nino flops over so that his head is fully in Ohno's lap and he can look up at Ohno without hurting his neck. "What makes you think I'm still mooning over you, anyways? You aren't so special."
"I've seen you staring at my ass in the showers, don't lie," Ohno says cheerfully. "The glazed eyes and drool on your chin really showed your lack of interest, by the way."
Nino laughs, feeling relief crack through the lump in his throat. They're still them. It may not be what he wanted, it may be less than he asked for, but it's more than he could have expected, all things considered. "It is a very nice ass," he agrees politely.
*
six months ago:
Once again, it's probably a bad idea. This has been firmly established in Nino's mind. And not just for his own sake this time - he's watched closely over the past few years, seeing small little things he might have otherwise missed illuminated. Jun's grown up, self-assured and confident, but Nino doesn't miss the way he goes all soft-eyed around Aiba. He wonders if Jun tried to talk about it again. He somehow thinks that Aiba's flippancy towards the whole ordeal might have been kind of a stupid idea.
He wants to tell Aiba this, but something holds him back. Aiba would probably laugh, amazed that Nino even remembered, even still thought about something that happened so long ago, and why?
Nino doesn't know. He just somehow feels like he understands when he watches Jun watch Aiba, all restraint and resignation, coupled with a stubborn sort of wanting that Nino gets completely.
He really does wonder if Aiba didn't notice at all. The funny thing about Aiba was that he always did everything for what he thought was the best. Nino was sure that if Aiba didn't think that Jun hadn't written off what had happened between them all those years ago as a one-time thing, something to remember fondly and from a distance, stupid moments of their youth - he was sure that, Aiba being Aiba, he might actually go for what he wanted.
Nino honestly doesn't want to fuck that up for them. That's sad, that's just pathetic.
That aside, he's still here, three hours after everyone finally met up for drinks - three staff members have already asked him he's sick, and when he denied it with some confusion and asked why, they had said "You're still here," as if that explained it all. Nino wasn't drunk, but he'd had a few beers for appearances sake, listening quietly to the conversations and riotous laughter, fiddling absently with his trump cards.
Aiba is across the room at the bar, engrossed in conversation with the pretty, short new AD. Nino can see the resolute flicker in Jun's expression as he tugs on his coat, and Nino practically leaps out of his seat, jamming his cap onto his head as Jun heads for the door.
He catches up with Jun just outside, under the bar's awning - it's raining hard outside now, the sky a murky sort of yellow-grey.
"Did you park close?" Jun asks. He hasn't got an umbrella, and neither does Nino. It was brilliantly sunny when he left home this morning and he has, like all five of them, fallen into the bad habit of getting used to a profession where there's always someone else penciling in your calendar and arranging your lunches and giving you an umbrella when it starts to rain.
"No," Nino says. His heart feels like it's thumping unnaturally fast, and he shifts on his feet. "I took a taxi."
"Oh," Jun says, and he looks concerned, looks like he's about to offer a ride, and Nino is going to go crazy if he doesn't do this now. His fingers skim against Jun's wrist as he leans forward, the warm skin almost a shock to his senses, the movement unstoppable as he leans closer.
Nino pauses a half-inch from Jun's face, surprised to find that he has one of Jun's hands in a vice-like grip. "Jun," he says, low, evenly. He doesn't really want to talk about this, doesn't even understand himself why he's taking this chance.
He can see the bob of Jun's throat as he swallows and Nino's so sure that he isn't wrong. He knows that Jun, of all people, understands what Nino means, and what it's costing him.
"Not here," Jun murmurs, after what feels like an eternity, tearing his wrist from Nino's grip. His eyes are dark, serious and Nino relaxes almost imperceptibly.
They run quickly down the street, rain soaking them clear through their jackets, shirts sticking to the skin like wet tissue. They're both shivering and clammy and laughing by the time they reach Jun's car, and Jun catches Nino's eyes and grins. It makes the car ride less awkward, gives a handy pretense to going over to Jun's apartment for warm towels and fresh clothes, even though it's embarrassingly obvious to both of them what he's actually there for.
Nino's stomach doesn't unknot until Jun casually draws the shower curtain back and steps in behind him, all smooth bare skin and confidence. Nino's known him long enough to be able to see him masking uncertainty, even if Jun's very good at it, they both are. It's easier to just kiss Jun, soft at first and then getting harder, hotter, all hunger and desperation that slowly claws up past the layers of careful pretense. Neither of them are pretending anymore now.
Jun hands him a towel after they finally climb out of the shower, reaches over to rub his towel roughly over Nino's hair. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, breaking the silence.
Nino can't really nod or shake his head under the towel anyways, so he just stays still and lets Jun finish drying his hair. "Let's not talk about it, okay?" It's an easy way out, it's really just buying time, but if Nino stops to think about this, it almost feels like the whole tentatively built structure of logic and wants and choices will just collapse.
Jun studies him carefully as Nino emerges from under the towel. "Okay," he murmurs quietly, trailing a finger across Nino's lips, moaning slightly when Nino lets his finger slip into his mouth, sucking on it. "Fine."
And they don't.
to be continued.
Part 5
cross-posted to kotobayori