Fic: Pillow Talk 2 of 3 MuraYuu NC-17
Here's chapter two, and it's the chapter that earned the fic it's rating, so beware.
Title: Pillow Talk
Pairing: MuraKen/Yuuri
Rating: NC-17
Chapter: Two of Three
A/N: Please read, review, and enjoy!
"Shibuya, it's a B flat, not a B natural. Should we mark it so you can remember?"
Yuuri remembered. He just wasn't concentrating. And Murata, patient as he was, was beginning to become annoyed. After several more missed notes and obvious errors, Murata sat down on the bed next to Yuuri.
"You've got something on your mind, Shibuya," he said softly, "What is it?"
His face on fire, Yuuri picked up his white pillow and tossed it at Murata. Murata caught it, uncertaintly written on his face.
"Shibuya..."
Yuuri coughed. "I, um, I talked to Conrad."
This time, there was no pain in Murata's eyes as he smiled at his King and fingered the pillow.
Stuttering with nervousness, Yuuri met Murata's eyes.
"Um, what happens now?"
Murata waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, there's a long, drawn out, and frankly pointless ceremony in which you hand me your toothbrush and I use it to clean the bathtub, and..."
He was met with another pillow to the face, knocking his glasses off.
"Liar," said Yuuri softly as he retrieved Murata's glasses and placed them on the bedside table. When he turned back around, Murata was gone. For a moment, Yuuri was panic-stricken. But then he was back, a clear vial in his hand. He placed it on the bedside table and then turned to Yuuri.
Murata Ken smiled a lot. In fact, it was unusual for him not to smile. But Yuuri had never seen a smile quite like this one on his friend's face. It was wicked, and held a promise of things to come, a promise, not a suggestion or a plea.
Never breaking his and Yuuri's heated eye contact, Murata began to undress. Slowly, deliberately, he undid each button and then shrugged his tunic to the floor.
Murata was close, standing between Yuuri's spread legs. Too close, so close that Yuuri could feel the heat from the other boy meeting and mingling with his own. Unable to stop himself, Yuuri reached up and unbuttoned Murata's jeans, sliding them with Murata's boxers down his hips to pool at his feet. More quickly now, Murata's efficient fingers undressed Yuuri, tossing his clothing to the floor. With each new inch of skin exposed, Murata stopped to run his fingers over it, memorizing the feel and hungry to taste.
Yuuri wasn't aware that he had been holding his breath until his lungs began to burn and forced him to draw in a sharp breath. Murata gently nudged him back onto the bed, and lay down beside him.
He raised an eyebrow at the painfully sharp breathes Yuuri was taking.
"You okay?"
Yuuri managed a nod, and reached up to touch Murata's face. Murata needed no further invitation; he rolled onto Yuuri, quickly setting to work tasting the skin he'd memorized earlier. Yuuri's already laboured breathing hitched as Murata licked and nipped at his jaw and then his neck. His practiced lips made a pathway down Yuuri's chest and he took a firm nipple into his mouth. Yuuri arched his back at the strange sensation, but was soon taken in by it. A quiet moan escaped his lips.
Murata took his time exploring, finding every sensitive place on Yuuri's body. Suddenly, when Yuuri thought that Murata was finally going to reach his destination, Murata pulled himself up the length of Yuuri's body, brushing his lips against Yuuri's.
Frustrated, Yuuri ground up into him, and was quickly distracted by the searing kiss Murata locked him into. Tentatively, Yuuri opened his mouth just slightly to allow Murata access. He gasped at the feeling of Murata's tongue exploring his mouth, slipping along his own.
Just as Yuuri felt that he couldn't take anymore, Murata broke the kiss, slipping back down between Yuuri's legs, his hair brushing Yuuri's stomach as Murata hovered inches away from his hard cock.
Yuuri growled as Murata teased him, ever so slightly tracing the circumference of the purpling head, dipping into the slit and back out again.
"Murata!" Yuuri growled through gritted teeth. Murata looked up, a wicked grin playing at his mouth. Holding Yuuri's gaze, he took him into his mouth in one movement.
Yuuri cried out as the heat engulfed him and he dug his fingers into Murata's touselled hair, hoping to keep the pressure even. He tried to thrust into Murata's mouth, but Murata placed his hand on Yuuri's hips to hold him down.
Murata took his time, leisurely taking all of Yuuri in, only to almost release him before plunging downward again.
Yuuri was babbling incoherently, lost in sensation and the heat of Murata's mouth. And then suddenly, abruptly, it was gone. Whining, he reached down to touch himself, anything to keep that delicious warmth, but Murata stopped him, with a shake of his head.
"Be patient, Yuuri," he said, his voice husky. "Patience is a virtue."
"You...can give me your...wisdom later!" Yuuri growled between pants.
Then he noticed Murata rubbing something around in his hand, something slippery. As he placed the vial he'd brought out earlier back onto the bedside table, he poured some into Yuuri's hands. Bringing Yuuri to a sitting position, he wrapped the Maou's hands around his own cock, groaning as they made contact.
Yuuri wasn't experienced, but he wasn't stupid either. He instinctively began to move his lube-slick hands up and down Murata's shaft, revelling in the look of abandon that spread on Murata's face. It was so wonderful to see something other than that infernal smile on Murata's face for once, and to know that he, Yuuri, was the one causing Murata's swollen lips to part with gasps and groans made the feeling even more intense.
Suddenly, Murata's hand was on his, pulling them away.
"Not yet," he panted. "Lie back." Yuuri lay back obediently, not caring at all to take commands at this time and place.
Murata took some more of the wet, slippery liquid and coated his fingers with it. Yuuri squirmed in anticipation, his hips twitching involuntarily.
Murata looked up, meeting Yuuri's eyes.
Are you ready?
Gods, Ken, just do it already!
There were no words spoken; there was no need.
Murata carefully inserted two fingers into Yuuri, restraining himself to the best of his ability. Yuuri yelped. Murata quickly looked up to access the situation, but soon the look of surprise on Yuuri's face was overtaken by pure bliss as Murata masterfully brushed his prostate. Yuuri was so lost in sensation that he barely noticed with Murata added another finger.
He did, however, notice the sudden feeling of emptiness when Murata removed his fingers. He didn't have time to miss it too much, though, because Murata quickly replaced his fingers with his slick cock. He slid into Yuuri's tight opening by degrees, a few inches at a time, until Yuuri lost patience with him and took him all in at once.
Both boys gasped together as Murata's smooth, fast thrusts soon established a rhythym. He leaned down to capture Yuuri's lips, his stomach sliding against Yuuri's painfully hard member and causing a delicious friction that brought Yuuri to tears.
Soon it all became too much, and Yuuri felt himself fast approaching his limit. His cries and pleas fueled Murata, and soon the wave overtook them both.
Yuuri's strangled cry was all that Murata needed, and at last he came, whispering Yuuri's name.
No longer able to hold himself up, Murata slid out of Yuuri and fell onto the bed beside him. For a while, neither could do anything other than breathe and try to collect his thoughts. Murata regained his composure first, but stayed quiet until Yuuri spoke.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue where you sort of folded it over?"
"Um, I think that was a trick of Christine's."
Yuuri was quiet for a moment.
"That's kind of creepy, Murata."
An indulgent chuckle.
"Sorry. But you know, in a way, you just made love to about 800 years' worth of people. I think you may have set a world record."
A white pillow hit him in the face.
"Shut up."
"Oh dear. What did I say about throwing pillows around without considering the consequences?"
Yuuri grinned and threw his arm casually around Murata's waist.
"It is a risk I am willing to take."
Title: Pillow Talk
Pairing: MuraKen/Yuuri
Rating: NC-17
Chapter: Two of Three
A/N: Please read, review, and enjoy!
"Shibuya, it's a B flat, not a B natural. Should we mark it so you can remember?"
Yuuri remembered. He just wasn't concentrating. And Murata, patient as he was, was beginning to become annoyed. After several more missed notes and obvious errors, Murata sat down on the bed next to Yuuri.
"You've got something on your mind, Shibuya," he said softly, "What is it?"
His face on fire, Yuuri picked up his white pillow and tossed it at Murata. Murata caught it, uncertaintly written on his face.
"Shibuya..."
Yuuri coughed. "I, um, I talked to Conrad."
This time, there was no pain in Murata's eyes as he smiled at his King and fingered the pillow.
Stuttering with nervousness, Yuuri met Murata's eyes.
"Um, what happens now?"
Murata waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, there's a long, drawn out, and frankly pointless ceremony in which you hand me your toothbrush and I use it to clean the bathtub, and..."
He was met with another pillow to the face, knocking his glasses off.
"Liar," said Yuuri softly as he retrieved Murata's glasses and placed them on the bedside table. When he turned back around, Murata was gone. For a moment, Yuuri was panic-stricken. But then he was back, a clear vial in his hand. He placed it on the bedside table and then turned to Yuuri.
Murata Ken smiled a lot. In fact, it was unusual for him not to smile. But Yuuri had never seen a smile quite like this one on his friend's face. It was wicked, and held a promise of things to come, a promise, not a suggestion or a plea.
Never breaking his and Yuuri's heated eye contact, Murata began to undress. Slowly, deliberately, he undid each button and then shrugged his tunic to the floor.
Murata was close, standing between Yuuri's spread legs. Too close, so close that Yuuri could feel the heat from the other boy meeting and mingling with his own. Unable to stop himself, Yuuri reached up and unbuttoned Murata's jeans, sliding them with Murata's boxers down his hips to pool at his feet. More quickly now, Murata's efficient fingers undressed Yuuri, tossing his clothing to the floor. With each new inch of skin exposed, Murata stopped to run his fingers over it, memorizing the feel and hungry to taste.
Yuuri wasn't aware that he had been holding his breath until his lungs began to burn and forced him to draw in a sharp breath. Murata gently nudged him back onto the bed, and lay down beside him.
He raised an eyebrow at the painfully sharp breathes Yuuri was taking.
"You okay?"
Yuuri managed a nod, and reached up to touch Murata's face. Murata needed no further invitation; he rolled onto Yuuri, quickly setting to work tasting the skin he'd memorized earlier. Yuuri's already laboured breathing hitched as Murata licked and nipped at his jaw and then his neck. His practiced lips made a pathway down Yuuri's chest and he took a firm nipple into his mouth. Yuuri arched his back at the strange sensation, but was soon taken in by it. A quiet moan escaped his lips.
Murata took his time exploring, finding every sensitive place on Yuuri's body. Suddenly, when Yuuri thought that Murata was finally going to reach his destination, Murata pulled himself up the length of Yuuri's body, brushing his lips against Yuuri's.
Frustrated, Yuuri ground up into him, and was quickly distracted by the searing kiss Murata locked him into. Tentatively, Yuuri opened his mouth just slightly to allow Murata access. He gasped at the feeling of Murata's tongue exploring his mouth, slipping along his own.
Just as Yuuri felt that he couldn't take anymore, Murata broke the kiss, slipping back down between Yuuri's legs, his hair brushing Yuuri's stomach as Murata hovered inches away from his hard cock.
Yuuri growled as Murata teased him, ever so slightly tracing the circumference of the purpling head, dipping into the slit and back out again.
"Murata!" Yuuri growled through gritted teeth. Murata looked up, a wicked grin playing at his mouth. Holding Yuuri's gaze, he took him into his mouth in one movement.
Yuuri cried out as the heat engulfed him and he dug his fingers into Murata's touselled hair, hoping to keep the pressure even. He tried to thrust into Murata's mouth, but Murata placed his hand on Yuuri's hips to hold him down.
Murata took his time, leisurely taking all of Yuuri in, only to almost release him before plunging downward again.
Yuuri was babbling incoherently, lost in sensation and the heat of Murata's mouth. And then suddenly, abruptly, it was gone. Whining, he reached down to touch himself, anything to keep that delicious warmth, but Murata stopped him, with a shake of his head.
"Be patient, Yuuri," he said, his voice husky. "Patience is a virtue."
"You...can give me your...wisdom later!" Yuuri growled between pants.
Then he noticed Murata rubbing something around in his hand, something slippery. As he placed the vial he'd brought out earlier back onto the bedside table, he poured some into Yuuri's hands. Bringing Yuuri to a sitting position, he wrapped the Maou's hands around his own cock, groaning as they made contact.
Yuuri wasn't experienced, but he wasn't stupid either. He instinctively began to move his lube-slick hands up and down Murata's shaft, revelling in the look of abandon that spread on Murata's face. It was so wonderful to see something other than that infernal smile on Murata's face for once, and to know that he, Yuuri, was the one causing Murata's swollen lips to part with gasps and groans made the feeling even more intense.
Suddenly, Murata's hand was on his, pulling them away.
"Not yet," he panted. "Lie back." Yuuri lay back obediently, not caring at all to take commands at this time and place.
Murata took some more of the wet, slippery liquid and coated his fingers with it. Yuuri squirmed in anticipation, his hips twitching involuntarily.
Murata looked up, meeting Yuuri's eyes.
Are you ready?
Gods, Ken, just do it already!
There were no words spoken; there was no need.
Murata carefully inserted two fingers into Yuuri, restraining himself to the best of his ability. Yuuri yelped. Murata quickly looked up to access the situation, but soon the look of surprise on Yuuri's face was overtaken by pure bliss as Murata masterfully brushed his prostate. Yuuri was so lost in sensation that he barely noticed with Murata added another finger.
He did, however, notice the sudden feeling of emptiness when Murata removed his fingers. He didn't have time to miss it too much, though, because Murata quickly replaced his fingers with his slick cock. He slid into Yuuri's tight opening by degrees, a few inches at a time, until Yuuri lost patience with him and took him all in at once.
Both boys gasped together as Murata's smooth, fast thrusts soon established a rhythym. He leaned down to capture Yuuri's lips, his stomach sliding against Yuuri's painfully hard member and causing a delicious friction that brought Yuuri to tears.
Soon it all became too much, and Yuuri felt himself fast approaching his limit. His cries and pleas fueled Murata, and soon the wave overtook them both.
Yuuri's strangled cry was all that Murata needed, and at last he came, whispering Yuuri's name.
No longer able to hold himself up, Murata slid out of Yuuri and fell onto the bed beside him. For a while, neither could do anything other than breathe and try to collect his thoughts. Murata regained his composure first, but stayed quiet until Yuuri spoke.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue where you sort of folded it over?"
"Um, I think that was a trick of Christine's."
Yuuri was quiet for a moment.
"That's kind of creepy, Murata."
An indulgent chuckle.
"Sorry. But you know, in a way, you just made love to about 800 years' worth of people. I think you may have set a world record."
A white pillow hit him in the face.
"Shut up."
"Oh dear. What did I say about throwing pillows around without considering the consequences?"
Yuuri grinned and threw his arm casually around Murata's waist.
"It is a risk I am willing to take."