Kanjani8 - Hello Nurse - Yoko/Hina
Title: Hello Nurse
Fandom: Kanjani8
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dr. Murakami/Nurse Kimiko (Hospital AU >_>)
Disclaimer: Even... more... fictional than usual.
Notes: bananachipu and elyndys are entirely to blame. XD
Dr. Murakami doesn't feel the need to apologize for himself. It's not arrogance, much simpler than that, it's that he, like anyone else, makes choices, and doesn't feel that any of them are wrong. One leads him down one path, another down another. Dr. Nishikido also theorizes that Murakami spends so much time apologizing for his coworkers, that he's got none left when it comes to himself. But, no matter the reason, Murakami doesn't see a need to worry about it. He wakes up every morning, makes a series of choices, and that's how he lives his life.
Maybe it's not completely appropriate to be letting a colleague lead him into the supply closet, but there are several reasons why he lets it happen. First, he has needs, just like anyone else, but second, and most importantly, Kimiko is really very convincing. He hadn't even known she felt that way about him until she was almost wrapped completely around him, not one for subtlety, but it's okay because neither is Murakami. She's tall, long legs, full inviting lips, and, Murakami makes the choice to go right along with it because he'd be stupid not to. He works long hours, doesn't have a whole lot of personal time to himself, in a way this is essential to his work, he'll be more relaxed, more focused, she leads them both inside and closes the door.
"Didn't know you'd be into this," she drawls. He never realized just how sexy she could be. Just the sound of her voice is making him hard. She's got a stethoscope or something intrusive in her pocket, and Murakami's a little impatient now, just wanting to get rid of everything that's keeping his skin from being against hers. He sheds his lab coat and tosses it onto a rack full of gauze pads.
"Mmm why not?" Murakami asks. He slides his hands down over her hips, wraps them around her back and pulls her closer. She starts to unbutton his shirt, giggling a little bit, even though she really doesn't seem to be shy.
She trails her fingers down his back and it feels so soft. He brings his hands up to her waist, around her front to cup her breasts, but when he gets there they're all padding. He doesn't want to draw attention to it, doesn't want to embarrass her, but when he looks up at her, she's grinning.
"You know, right?" She asks, pulling his shirt over his shoulders, tossing it back on the rack on top of his lab coat, and finally it's her hands directly on the skin of his chest.
"Know what?" He asks. It feels like some kind of game, like she wants him to talk dirty to her, but she's so in control, so sure of everything, that he almost likes being along for the ride. "Tell me."
"No, I'm serious," she says, now holding him half an arm's length away. And he's not sure he can abide this kind of teasing. But he's mostly unprepared for what she says next. "You know I'm a guy, right?"
Murakami blinks a couple of times.
"Hm," she says. "Guess not."
"Wait, really?" Murakami says. "But you're so--"
Kimiko takes his hand, puts it between her legs. The obtrusive object isn't a stethoscope after all.
"--oh."
"Kimitaka," She says. He says. Then he shrugs.
"You're... convincing," Murakami says.
"So I've... mmm... heard."
Murakami hasn't taken his hand away, instead is rubbing Kimitaka's cock through the fabric of his skirt. He's never touched another man's cock like this before, and finds he isn't opposed to it. He reaches under Kimitaka's skirt, pulls it all the way up, pushes a pair of lace panties aside and grips his cock firmly in his hand. Kimitaka groans.
"So I guess you still want to do this?" Kimitaka asks. His voice is soft and feminine, but sounds stronger than Murakami had noticed before. Has it always sounded like this? He strokes Kimitaka's cock and the sound that comes out of Kimitaka's mouth is deep and decidedly more masculine.
Even before when it was Kimiko, Murakami was happy to go along with whatever she wanted, but now control seems to have been relinquished to him. He strokes more firmly, and Kimitaka starts pushing into his hand. Kimitaka closes his eyes, runs his tongue along his bottom lip, and Murakami rubs his erection through his pants.
"Why do you do this?" Murakami asks. He doesn't realize how close they've become until his lips graze Kimitaka's neck when he speaks. He's tall already, but even taller in heels. For as long as Murakami can remember, all of the men he works with are just as excited by Kimiko as they are intimidated.
"What, this?" Kimitaka says, smoothing out his blouse. "Because I'm good at it." And Murakami can't deny that.
Kimitaka slides down until he's on his knees in front of Murakami. He moves Murakami's hand aside and pulls down Murakami's zipper, freeing his cock. Then he spits in his hand and strokes it a couple of times.
"Do you... do this a lot?" Murakami asks, sounding more curious than accusing. But even Kimitaka can't argue that this all seems a little practiced.
"Only when I'm horny?" Kimitaka says. "You talk a lot for a man about to get a blowjob."
Murakami laughs. "I'm just impressed."
"As you should be," Kimitaka says. "Now quit staring at my crotch, you're ruining the fantasy."
That aside, looking down at him, Kimitaka suddenly seems more boyish than Murakami could have imagined. He's still got makeup on, and long black wavy hair down his back, but his hands are rough and something about the way he's grinning, all toothy and lopsided, just makes him look like a guy in a skirt. Which doesn't make him any less appealing to Murakami. He wonders, in passing, if he should be concerned about this, but completely abandons this train of thought when Kimitaka's full lips close around the head of his cock. He groans as he watches it disappear inside of Kimitaka's mouth.
Murakami buries his hands in Kimitaka's hair. It's a wig, as he probably could have guessed by now, but a well crafted one. Kimitaka's head moves back and forth, he licks the underside softly, swirls his tongue around at the end, and he's jerking himself off in time. It's sexy. Almost too sexy to even watch. He holds onto handfuls of Kimitaka's wig and Kimitaka feels the urgency and sucks harder. Kimitaka rolls Murakami's balls around in his hand and when Murakami's hips jerk, Kimitaka moans around his cock. It's damn good. Probably one of the best blowjobs he's ever had, not that he has a lot to compare it to. He does work too many hours, too many long days.
It isn't that he means to come on Kimitaka's lips, it even seems a little rude that he'd do it without any warning or anything, but he doesn't have much of a choice when the sensation rushes through him like lightening while Kimitaka squeezes the base of his cock, shallowly sucking the head, and Murakami is left feeling warm and spent. Kimitaka's a mess, but he doesn't seem too worried about it, just grabs some bandages off the rack and cleans himself up, then cleans off his own hand. Murakami didn't even realize he'd gotten off, too.
"Well," Kimitaka stands up, smooths his skirt down, good as new. "Back to work?"
"That's it?!" Murakami asks.
Kimitaka stares at him. "What do you mean that's it! That wasn't good enough for you?!"
"No! I mean. Well. Seems like an abrupt way to end the relationship."
"We don't have a relationship. And you're the one who followed the nurse into the supply closet."
"I guess, but..." Murakami buttons and zips his pants, and it echoes a little awkwardly in the small room. "Can we get together sometime? Like, not at work."
"I don't date coworkers."
"I don't mean a date. Just... maybe we could hang out?"
Kimitaka adjusts his wig so it's sitting right on his head, and Murakami catches a glimpse of his real hair underneath. Just as black as the wig, but much shorter.
"Hm," Kimitaka considers. "I'll give you my number. You call me."
Murakami hands Kimitaka his phone and waits for him to plug the number in, and doesn't wonder what he's getting himself into. Then, once adjusted and ready to pretend like he didn't just get a midday blowjob, he stands in front of the door.
"We should definitely leave separately," Kimitaka says. "Me first. Just wait a few minutes." Murakami watches Kimitaka leave, heels clacking on the hospital floor.
Turns out Murakami was right. He is more focused when he gets back to work, more relaxed, less tense. And every time he walks by the supply closet he gets a little twinge of excitement. He doesn't see Kimitaka the rest of the day, but he could be off or he could be busy. Whatever the case, Murakami's glad he doesn't apologize for himself, or else that may not have happened and it would have really been a shame.
There aren't any expectations. It's already, decidedly, not a date. So Murakami doesn't think twice about calling Kimitaka once he's off of work. He's at the end of the train ride home when he picks up his phone.
"Hello?" Kimitaka answers in a rough, masculine voice.
Fandom: Kanjani8
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dr. Murakami/Nurse Kimiko (Hospital AU >_>)
Disclaimer: Even... more... fictional than usual.
Notes: bananachipu and elyndys are entirely to blame. XD
Dr. Murakami doesn't feel the need to apologize for himself. It's not arrogance, much simpler than that, it's that he, like anyone else, makes choices, and doesn't feel that any of them are wrong. One leads him down one path, another down another. Dr. Nishikido also theorizes that Murakami spends so much time apologizing for his coworkers, that he's got none left when it comes to himself. But, no matter the reason, Murakami doesn't see a need to worry about it. He wakes up every morning, makes a series of choices, and that's how he lives his life.
Maybe it's not completely appropriate to be letting a colleague lead him into the supply closet, but there are several reasons why he lets it happen. First, he has needs, just like anyone else, but second, and most importantly, Kimiko is really very convincing. He hadn't even known she felt that way about him until she was almost wrapped completely around him, not one for subtlety, but it's okay because neither is Murakami. She's tall, long legs, full inviting lips, and, Murakami makes the choice to go right along with it because he'd be stupid not to. He works long hours, doesn't have a whole lot of personal time to himself, in a way this is essential to his work, he'll be more relaxed, more focused, she leads them both inside and closes the door.
"Didn't know you'd be into this," she drawls. He never realized just how sexy she could be. Just the sound of her voice is making him hard. She's got a stethoscope or something intrusive in her pocket, and Murakami's a little impatient now, just wanting to get rid of everything that's keeping his skin from being against hers. He sheds his lab coat and tosses it onto a rack full of gauze pads.
"Mmm why not?" Murakami asks. He slides his hands down over her hips, wraps them around her back and pulls her closer. She starts to unbutton his shirt, giggling a little bit, even though she really doesn't seem to be shy.
She trails her fingers down his back and it feels so soft. He brings his hands up to her waist, around her front to cup her breasts, but when he gets there they're all padding. He doesn't want to draw attention to it, doesn't want to embarrass her, but when he looks up at her, she's grinning.
"You know, right?" She asks, pulling his shirt over his shoulders, tossing it back on the rack on top of his lab coat, and finally it's her hands directly on the skin of his chest.
"Know what?" He asks. It feels like some kind of game, like she wants him to talk dirty to her, but she's so in control, so sure of everything, that he almost likes being along for the ride. "Tell me."
"No, I'm serious," she says, now holding him half an arm's length away. And he's not sure he can abide this kind of teasing. But he's mostly unprepared for what she says next. "You know I'm a guy, right?"
Murakami blinks a couple of times.
"Hm," she says. "Guess not."
"Wait, really?" Murakami says. "But you're so--"
Kimiko takes his hand, puts it between her legs. The obtrusive object isn't a stethoscope after all.
"--oh."
"Kimitaka," She says. He says. Then he shrugs.
"You're... convincing," Murakami says.
"So I've... mmm... heard."
Murakami hasn't taken his hand away, instead is rubbing Kimitaka's cock through the fabric of his skirt. He's never touched another man's cock like this before, and finds he isn't opposed to it. He reaches under Kimitaka's skirt, pulls it all the way up, pushes a pair of lace panties aside and grips his cock firmly in his hand. Kimitaka groans.
"So I guess you still want to do this?" Kimitaka asks. His voice is soft and feminine, but sounds stronger than Murakami had noticed before. Has it always sounded like this? He strokes Kimitaka's cock and the sound that comes out of Kimitaka's mouth is deep and decidedly more masculine.
Even before when it was Kimiko, Murakami was happy to go along with whatever she wanted, but now control seems to have been relinquished to him. He strokes more firmly, and Kimitaka starts pushing into his hand. Kimitaka closes his eyes, runs his tongue along his bottom lip, and Murakami rubs his erection through his pants.
"Why do you do this?" Murakami asks. He doesn't realize how close they've become until his lips graze Kimitaka's neck when he speaks. He's tall already, but even taller in heels. For as long as Murakami can remember, all of the men he works with are just as excited by Kimiko as they are intimidated.
"What, this?" Kimitaka says, smoothing out his blouse. "Because I'm good at it." And Murakami can't deny that.
Kimitaka slides down until he's on his knees in front of Murakami. He moves Murakami's hand aside and pulls down Murakami's zipper, freeing his cock. Then he spits in his hand and strokes it a couple of times.
"Do you... do this a lot?" Murakami asks, sounding more curious than accusing. But even Kimitaka can't argue that this all seems a little practiced.
"Only when I'm horny?" Kimitaka says. "You talk a lot for a man about to get a blowjob."
Murakami laughs. "I'm just impressed."
"As you should be," Kimitaka says. "Now quit staring at my crotch, you're ruining the fantasy."
That aside, looking down at him, Kimitaka suddenly seems more boyish than Murakami could have imagined. He's still got makeup on, and long black wavy hair down his back, but his hands are rough and something about the way he's grinning, all toothy and lopsided, just makes him look like a guy in a skirt. Which doesn't make him any less appealing to Murakami. He wonders, in passing, if he should be concerned about this, but completely abandons this train of thought when Kimitaka's full lips close around the head of his cock. He groans as he watches it disappear inside of Kimitaka's mouth.
Murakami buries his hands in Kimitaka's hair. It's a wig, as he probably could have guessed by now, but a well crafted one. Kimitaka's head moves back and forth, he licks the underside softly, swirls his tongue around at the end, and he's jerking himself off in time. It's sexy. Almost too sexy to even watch. He holds onto handfuls of Kimitaka's wig and Kimitaka feels the urgency and sucks harder. Kimitaka rolls Murakami's balls around in his hand and when Murakami's hips jerk, Kimitaka moans around his cock. It's damn good. Probably one of the best blowjobs he's ever had, not that he has a lot to compare it to. He does work too many hours, too many long days.
It isn't that he means to come on Kimitaka's lips, it even seems a little rude that he'd do it without any warning or anything, but he doesn't have much of a choice when the sensation rushes through him like lightening while Kimitaka squeezes the base of his cock, shallowly sucking the head, and Murakami is left feeling warm and spent. Kimitaka's a mess, but he doesn't seem too worried about it, just grabs some bandages off the rack and cleans himself up, then cleans off his own hand. Murakami didn't even realize he'd gotten off, too.
"Well," Kimitaka stands up, smooths his skirt down, good as new. "Back to work?"
"That's it?!" Murakami asks.
Kimitaka stares at him. "What do you mean that's it! That wasn't good enough for you?!"
"No! I mean. Well. Seems like an abrupt way to end the relationship."
"We don't have a relationship. And you're the one who followed the nurse into the supply closet."
"I guess, but..." Murakami buttons and zips his pants, and it echoes a little awkwardly in the small room. "Can we get together sometime? Like, not at work."
"I don't date coworkers."
"I don't mean a date. Just... maybe we could hang out?"
Kimitaka adjusts his wig so it's sitting right on his head, and Murakami catches a glimpse of his real hair underneath. Just as black as the wig, but much shorter.
"Hm," Kimitaka considers. "I'll give you my number. You call me."
Murakami hands Kimitaka his phone and waits for him to plug the number in, and doesn't wonder what he's getting himself into. Then, once adjusted and ready to pretend like he didn't just get a midday blowjob, he stands in front of the door.
"We should definitely leave separately," Kimitaka says. "Me first. Just wait a few minutes." Murakami watches Kimitaka leave, heels clacking on the hospital floor.
Turns out Murakami was right. He is more focused when he gets back to work, more relaxed, less tense. And every time he walks by the supply closet he gets a little twinge of excitement. He doesn't see Kimitaka the rest of the day, but he could be off or he could be busy. Whatever the case, Murakami's glad he doesn't apologize for himself, or else that may not have happened and it would have really been a shame.
There aren't any expectations. It's already, decidedly, not a date. So Murakami doesn't think twice about calling Kimitaka once he's off of work. He's at the end of the train ride home when he picks up his phone.
"Hello?" Kimitaka answers in a rough, masculine voice.