[FIC] NewS - Sweet Home
Title: Sweet Home
Fandom: NewS
Pairing: Masuda/Tegoshi
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Tadaima, he thinks, and it feels more natural than anything else in the world.
A/N: I felt a bizarre urge to write sleepy!TegoMass smut. So I did. This marks my first attempt at smut in this fandom, so yay! Another milestone down!
Masuda comes home to a quiet apartment. The lights are off, the TV too, and the only signs of life are tiny ones; a bit of clutter in the living room, a few dishes in the sink. And Masuda smiles, because these little signs are heartwarmingly familiar to come home to when he’s spent the whole day surrounded by strangers in a strange place.
The bedroom door is open just a crack, and he peeks in, stealthy, watchful. There’s a lump on his bed, all dark hair and sleep-softened features, and Masuda grins fondly at the fact that the lump is on his side of the bed, cuddled up to his pillow, all at once grateful for the fact that he decided to come home tonight instead of waiting to do it tomorrow at a more reasonable hour.
He sneaks into the room, pads over to the bed on silent feet, sits on the edge and regards the younger man with a gentle expression. It never fails to awe him, how subdued Tegoshi looks when he sleeps; nearly angelic, his features unstressed, youthful and delicate. Masuda feels a surge of affection for him, reaches out to gently smooth back his hair.
Tegoshi stirs at the attention, sighs quietly, turns into Masuda’s touch, and a few seconds later his eyes blink open, focus on Masuda, and he smiles sleepily.
“Massu?” He murmurs, and Masuda smiles warmly, brushes his thumb over the younger’s cheek.
“Hey baby,” he greets in return, leans down to kiss Tegoshi’s forehead, cheek, lips. Tegoshi sighs into it, tilts his head up to return the gesture, and Masuda feels like he’s finally home; is suddenly aware of how hard this last week has been, how lonely his hotel room has been without the younger.
They spend a long moment like that, just trading kisses, and when they pull apart Tegoshi nuzzles his jaw lovingly, making soft, tired little noises that send a surge of longing through Masuda.
His hands wander, brushing over Tegoshi’s neck, his shoulders, slide down his front to fiddle with the buttons on his pajama top. Tegoshi laughs softly, unbothered, lays back against the pillows and let’s Masuda do as he like. He’s still half-asleep, not awake enough to help, but not at all unhappy with the circumstances. And anyway, it’s been a week. A long, very lonely week, and now all Tegoshi wants is to sink into the older man’s embrace and stay there all night.
When he feels one of Masuda’s hands slide under the waistband of his pants, he makes a quiet, needy little noise and curls into his touch. Masuda smiles, pets his hair and spine gently, kisses the younger slowly when he gasps as Masuda’s fingers wrap loosely around his half-hardened cock.
Masuda laughs, gentle and adoring, when Tegoshi claws weakly at his shirt in response, wanting it off, kisses his forehead when the younger whines at the loss of contact as he removes him hand and goes to remove his clothing. He sheds his shirt first, shimmies out of his pants next, hands falling to Tegoshi’s hips as soon as he’s finished, fingers hooking once again into the waistband of his pants, sliding them down slowly, dropping kisses to every exposed inch he can reach. Soft sighs and quiet, wanton noises follow in his wake, and he smiles as he brushes over the younger’s navel, chuckles when Tegoshi squirms impatiently under the attention.
“Yuya…” he murmurs softly, glances up through his bangs, beams at the flushed, dazed expression Tegoshi wears. He always looks beautiful like this, in Masuda’s opinion, wanting and needy, still sleepy but too far gone to really care about it.
And these are his favorite times; the moments when Tegoshi is pliant and warm under his hands, unguarded, the usual thick skin that he wears to survive the day to day missing, replaced instead by this soft, tactile creature that Masuda knows so well. It’s in these moments that he gets a glimpse of the boy he fell in love with, years earlier, before the glitz and glamour surrounding them turned him into someone he barely recognizes sometimes.
This is the Tegoshi that Masuda treasures more than anything, and he loves the little moments like this that they can sometimes steal.
Tegoshi squirms beneath him, fingers sliding into Masuda’s hair, urging him on, impatient with the foreplay. Masuda gives him a soft chuckle, lightly draws his fingers down the younger’s sides teasingly with one hand, the other reaching for the bedside table’s drawer, fingers closing over the half-empty bottle they keep there.
He slicks a hand messily, wastes no time in easing a finger into the younger boy. Tegoshi gasps, head tilted back, fingers clutching at the bed sheets. Masuda hushes him gently, kisses him through it as he adjusts slowly to the intrusion. He waits until the younger relaxes before slipping in a second, then a third digit.
By the time he’s finished, Tegoshi is writhing beneath him, not out of discomfort but out of eagerness and want.
“Massu,” he breathes, impatient, imploringly, almost whining, and Masuda takes the hint, just as eager and worked up as his lover. He draws himself back up, hooks a hand around the younger’s knee, presses in slowly.
Tegoshi trembles in his arms, mouth dropping open into a silent cry, and Masuda drops a kiss to his shoulder, immediately drawn to the junction of his neck, marveling at the way his back arches prettily, sweat-slicked skin glimmering under the dim lighting. He looks ethereal like this, almost like something otherworldly; something to be worshiped, cherished.
And Masuda takes a great deal of pleasure in doing just that.
For a long moment, they stay like that, curled around each other. And then they start to move, slow, easy, finding a rhythm almost immediately. Masuda is gentle, unhurried and patient, and Tegoshi is pliant and willing, for once uncompetitive, more than happy to let Masuda lead him. They rock together, skin sliding against skin, trading kisses as they go, and it’s a slow build up, almost lazy, full of gentle touches and loving caresses.
Tegoshi comes first, having already been teetering when they started, breath hitching as he arches back, clutching tightly at Masuda, who pets him gently, holds him as he quakes through his orgasm. He follows shortly after, burying his face into Tegoshi’s shoulder to muffle a loud groan, holding the younger as everything around them turns supernova.
~***~
Afterwards, they lay together, Tegoshi settled comfortably in Masuda’s arms, nosing at his neck sleepily. Masuda remains awake, completely content to stay aware, reveling in the feel of the younger dozing contentedly against him. Every so often Tegoshi stirs, lifting his head for a kiss, like he’s testing to make sure that the older is still there, smiling happily when Masuda obliges him, settling back down immediately after.
Moments like this are so rare for them, few and far between; he can’t bring himself to sleep through it. Not when Tegoshi sighs, cuddles closer, murmurs softly, “I missed you, Massu,” in that gentle, half-awake tone that never fails to make him smile. “Okaeri,”
“I missed you too,” he replies softly, drops a kiss to the younger’s forehead, tightens his grip on him.
Tadaima, he thinks, and it feels more natural than anything else in the world.
---
Okaeri - Welcome Home
Tadaima - I'm back
A/N: It should be noted that I don't usually put Japanese in my fics, with the exception of -san/kun/whatever, but in this case, the Japanese felt more natural and less forced. Also, the Japanese versions in this case are bit more meaningful than the English phrases, so... yeah.
Also, I'd like to apologize to anyone who had to join the community specifically to view this fic. Sorry for the inconvenience, but it's my policy :3 Thank you for reading!
Fandom: NewS
Pairing: Masuda/Tegoshi
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Tadaima, he thinks, and it feels more natural than anything else in the world.
A/N: I felt a bizarre urge to write sleepy!TegoMass smut. So I did. This marks my first attempt at smut in this fandom, so yay! Another milestone down!
Masuda comes home to a quiet apartment. The lights are off, the TV too, and the only signs of life are tiny ones; a bit of clutter in the living room, a few dishes in the sink. And Masuda smiles, because these little signs are heartwarmingly familiar to come home to when he’s spent the whole day surrounded by strangers in a strange place.
The bedroom door is open just a crack, and he peeks in, stealthy, watchful. There’s a lump on his bed, all dark hair and sleep-softened features, and Masuda grins fondly at the fact that the lump is on his side of the bed, cuddled up to his pillow, all at once grateful for the fact that he decided to come home tonight instead of waiting to do it tomorrow at a more reasonable hour.
He sneaks into the room, pads over to the bed on silent feet, sits on the edge and regards the younger man with a gentle expression. It never fails to awe him, how subdued Tegoshi looks when he sleeps; nearly angelic, his features unstressed, youthful and delicate. Masuda feels a surge of affection for him, reaches out to gently smooth back his hair.
Tegoshi stirs at the attention, sighs quietly, turns into Masuda’s touch, and a few seconds later his eyes blink open, focus on Masuda, and he smiles sleepily.
“Massu?” He murmurs, and Masuda smiles warmly, brushes his thumb over the younger’s cheek.
“Hey baby,” he greets in return, leans down to kiss Tegoshi’s forehead, cheek, lips. Tegoshi sighs into it, tilts his head up to return the gesture, and Masuda feels like he’s finally home; is suddenly aware of how hard this last week has been, how lonely his hotel room has been without the younger.
They spend a long moment like that, just trading kisses, and when they pull apart Tegoshi nuzzles his jaw lovingly, making soft, tired little noises that send a surge of longing through Masuda.
His hands wander, brushing over Tegoshi’s neck, his shoulders, slide down his front to fiddle with the buttons on his pajama top. Tegoshi laughs softly, unbothered, lays back against the pillows and let’s Masuda do as he like. He’s still half-asleep, not awake enough to help, but not at all unhappy with the circumstances. And anyway, it’s been a week. A long, very lonely week, and now all Tegoshi wants is to sink into the older man’s embrace and stay there all night.
When he feels one of Masuda’s hands slide under the waistband of his pants, he makes a quiet, needy little noise and curls into his touch. Masuda smiles, pets his hair and spine gently, kisses the younger slowly when he gasps as Masuda’s fingers wrap loosely around his half-hardened cock.
Masuda laughs, gentle and adoring, when Tegoshi claws weakly at his shirt in response, wanting it off, kisses his forehead when the younger whines at the loss of contact as he removes him hand and goes to remove his clothing. He sheds his shirt first, shimmies out of his pants next, hands falling to Tegoshi’s hips as soon as he’s finished, fingers hooking once again into the waistband of his pants, sliding them down slowly, dropping kisses to every exposed inch he can reach. Soft sighs and quiet, wanton noises follow in his wake, and he smiles as he brushes over the younger’s navel, chuckles when Tegoshi squirms impatiently under the attention.
“Yuya…” he murmurs softly, glances up through his bangs, beams at the flushed, dazed expression Tegoshi wears. He always looks beautiful like this, in Masuda’s opinion, wanting and needy, still sleepy but too far gone to really care about it.
And these are his favorite times; the moments when Tegoshi is pliant and warm under his hands, unguarded, the usual thick skin that he wears to survive the day to day missing, replaced instead by this soft, tactile creature that Masuda knows so well. It’s in these moments that he gets a glimpse of the boy he fell in love with, years earlier, before the glitz and glamour surrounding them turned him into someone he barely recognizes sometimes.
This is the Tegoshi that Masuda treasures more than anything, and he loves the little moments like this that they can sometimes steal.
Tegoshi squirms beneath him, fingers sliding into Masuda’s hair, urging him on, impatient with the foreplay. Masuda gives him a soft chuckle, lightly draws his fingers down the younger’s sides teasingly with one hand, the other reaching for the bedside table’s drawer, fingers closing over the half-empty bottle they keep there.
He slicks a hand messily, wastes no time in easing a finger into the younger boy. Tegoshi gasps, head tilted back, fingers clutching at the bed sheets. Masuda hushes him gently, kisses him through it as he adjusts slowly to the intrusion. He waits until the younger relaxes before slipping in a second, then a third digit.
By the time he’s finished, Tegoshi is writhing beneath him, not out of discomfort but out of eagerness and want.
“Massu,” he breathes, impatient, imploringly, almost whining, and Masuda takes the hint, just as eager and worked up as his lover. He draws himself back up, hooks a hand around the younger’s knee, presses in slowly.
Tegoshi trembles in his arms, mouth dropping open into a silent cry, and Masuda drops a kiss to his shoulder, immediately drawn to the junction of his neck, marveling at the way his back arches prettily, sweat-slicked skin glimmering under the dim lighting. He looks ethereal like this, almost like something otherworldly; something to be worshiped, cherished.
And Masuda takes a great deal of pleasure in doing just that.
For a long moment, they stay like that, curled around each other. And then they start to move, slow, easy, finding a rhythm almost immediately. Masuda is gentle, unhurried and patient, and Tegoshi is pliant and willing, for once uncompetitive, more than happy to let Masuda lead him. They rock together, skin sliding against skin, trading kisses as they go, and it’s a slow build up, almost lazy, full of gentle touches and loving caresses.
Tegoshi comes first, having already been teetering when they started, breath hitching as he arches back, clutching tightly at Masuda, who pets him gently, holds him as he quakes through his orgasm. He follows shortly after, burying his face into Tegoshi’s shoulder to muffle a loud groan, holding the younger as everything around them turns supernova.
~***~
Afterwards, they lay together, Tegoshi settled comfortably in Masuda’s arms, nosing at his neck sleepily. Masuda remains awake, completely content to stay aware, reveling in the feel of the younger dozing contentedly against him. Every so often Tegoshi stirs, lifting his head for a kiss, like he’s testing to make sure that the older is still there, smiling happily when Masuda obliges him, settling back down immediately after.
Moments like this are so rare for them, few and far between; he can’t bring himself to sleep through it. Not when Tegoshi sighs, cuddles closer, murmurs softly, “I missed you, Massu,” in that gentle, half-awake tone that never fails to make him smile. “Okaeri,”
“I missed you too,” he replies softly, drops a kiss to the younger’s forehead, tightens his grip on him.
Tadaima, he thinks, and it feels more natural than anything else in the world.
---
Okaeri - Welcome Home
Tadaima - I'm back
A/N: It should be noted that I don't usually put Japanese in my fics, with the exception of -san/kun/whatever, but in this case, the Japanese felt more natural and less forced. Also, the Japanese versions in this case are bit more meaningful than the English phrases, so... yeah.
Also, I'd like to apologize to anyone who had to join the community specifically to view this fic. Sorry for the inconvenience, but it's my policy :3 Thank you for reading!