maayacolabackup ([personal profile] maayacolabackup) wrote2011-10-11 08:35 pm

Moving Out and Moving In (Pin, NC-17) [2/2]

***

Ryo sounds cranky on the phone when Jin answers after one ring.

“So you aren’t dead,” Ryo says. “Why does Yamapi think you are dead?”

“I don’t know,” Jin says sullenly, picking at a loose thread at the waist of his fleece-lined sweatpants. He swallows.

“Hmmm,” Ryo says. “Well, I’ve got some guesses.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin says. “You have no idea—“

“Well, I think he must be calling you somewhere between ten to fifteen times a day,” Ryo interrupts. “And you’ve avoided every single one of those calls for, hmm, something like four days?”

“I’m just busy, and I don’t have time to answer my phone—“ Jin starts, but then Ryo snorts.

“Bullshit,” he says. “You have plenty of time. You don’t have to go into work for another two days, according to your manager. You know, that poor man who is actually busy, and yet still answers his phone.”

“I hate you,” Jin says. “Don’t stalk me.” The thread is unraveling under Jin’s persistent fingers, and the seam of the waistband is coming undone. It doesn’t matter, Jin supposes. They’re Yamapi’s anyway.

“See, I don’t have much choice,” Ryo tells him. “Because Yamapi is going to jump off a bridge and/or keep badgering me until you call him back. To be honest, I’d prefer the former, because I am a busy man.”

“I’m sorry,” Jin tells him, feeling a little bit guilty that Ryo’s getting dragged into his problems. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Ryo tells him. “When the phone rings, and you see Yamapi’s name, you hit the green button on the left, not the red button on the right. This connects the call. Then you hold the phone up to your ear, right? And you listen. And then you talk into the mouthpiece. You’re doing it right now with me. It’s exactly the same as this, except I am not involved.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jin says. “And you know it.”

“I figured,” Ryo says. “Did you have a Gay-piphany, finally?”

“A what?” Jin asks, his voice going higher than he intends. He clears his throat. “I don’t get it.”

“A gay epiphany. That moment where you, Jin Akanishi, realize you’ve been in gay buttsex love with your best friend Tomohisa Yamashita for years, and now you don’t know what to do about it so you’re reacting like a middle school girl with her first crush?”

“I just hate you so much,” Jin tells him, knowing Ryo will hear both the scowl in his voice, and the admission that he’s being silly.

“Just answer your phone, dumbass. Unless you want Yamapi to actually just go jump off a bridge. I won’t stop him, because I am selfish and easily annoyed.” Ryo pauses for a moment, and Jin can hear a quick intake of breath on the other end of the phone, like Ryo is trying to decide if he should say something else. “This isn’t the way to hold on tight, Jin. Ignoring his calls isn’t going to make it better. You either get over it whatever the problem is, or talk to him about it.”

“The latter is not an option,” Jin says with a laugh, and now he can pull the fabric of the waistband open to see the strip of elastic inside. “Thanks, Ryo-chan.”

“Whatever,” Ryo says, sounding smug. “I am all-knowing and wise.”

“Go write it down, or something,” Jin tells him.


***


"Hello?" Jin says miserably into the phone, and Yamapi is silent on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry," Jin says, closing his eyes and leaning his head back so it presses against the wall behind his mattress. He'd never bothered getting a headboard, and now that he doesn't live here full time, it doesn't seem worth the effort.

"Did I do something wrong?" Yamapi asks, suddenly, like he's in a terrible rush to get all the words out in case Jin decides to hang up the phone. "Because if I did, I'm really sorry."

"Nothing's wrong," Jin replies, and then he anxiously pushes his hand through his hair. "Seriously."

"Then why are you acting so weird?" Yamapi's voice sounds small. "Why don't you want to see me?"

It reminds Jin of when he and Yamapi had gotten into their only fight, when they were still tiny juniors, really, and he had refused to talk to Yamapi for two weeks. He'd remained steadfast in his vow of silence until he'd seen Yamapi crying on Toma's shoulder one day out behind the jimusho in the parking lot, eyes puffy and shoulders trembling, and Toma had glared down at him over his large nose and given him a look that could skin a cat.

"Don't be stupid," Jin says. "Of course I want to see you." Too much, he almost adds. "Who else is stupid enough to try my cooking?"

"That's not stupidity, Bakanishi," Yamapi says, and there's something strange in his voice. "That's love."

Jin's heart feels so full it could burst, and he thinks it's weird that a person can be filled so completely with both joy and despair at the same moment-- how one word can mean such different things.

"You homo," Jin says. "Come over for dinner." His hands fiddle with the sheets on his bed. They smell stale and old, and he hasn't washed them since he came home. He should wash them. He smells his arm, and thinks maybe he should wash himself, too.

"Alright," Yamapi says. "I'll be over around five." Then Yamapi clears his throat. "Jin, if you ever...if something's ever wrong between us, don't...don't avoid me, okay?"

There's silence, where Jin thinks of all the thing he could say, and all the things he'll never say. He thinks about the man in the night club, too, but when he imagines the whole scenario again, like he does every time he closes his eyes, this time it's definitely Yamapi he feels pushing him roughly against the wall, sliding his thigh between Jin's legs.

"Yeah," Jin says. "I won’t."

***

There's too much salt in the rice, and the egg is black around the edges. As far as cooking fails go, this is a fairly mild one for Jin, and Yamapi has barely any trepidation on his face.

"It looks..." Yamapi tilts his head to the side, as if he's trying to pick the perfect word to describe Jin's efforts. "Edible," he says, with and air of finality, and Jin nervously cracks a smile.

"I may have forgotten about the eggs for just a minute. I swear, I was on the phone with Kamenashi for like five seconds, and he was being prissy and bitching about his new girlfriend, and then there was all this smoke, and I was going to start screaming, but then I remembered I could just turn the eye off, but then the smoke detector..." Jin trails off as he sees Yamapi's head fall to the table, and his shoulders quake. "What's wrong?!"

Yamapi looks up and his face is creased with laughter. "Bakanishi, you are absolutely hopeless," Yamapi says, and he picks up his chopsticks, breaks off a big piece of egg yolk, and shoves it into his mouth. Jin watches with bated breath as Yamapi chews slowly and thoughtfully, his face running through a wide gamut of expressions.

There's a piece of yolk lingering on his lips, and Jin's hand itches to wipe it off. "Well?"

"Not bad, Jin. I don't even think I'll get sick this time."

"Shut up," Jin says, but he releases the breath he's holding. "Is it really okay?"

"We'll make a chef out of you yet," Yamapi says. "That way, when you get married, you can cook for your wife and eight hundred kids."

"I don't even have a girlfriend," Jin mumbles, looking down at the table. "What makes you so sure I'm going to get married?" He traces the wood-pattern with his fingertip, watching his finger skate along the ridges as he tries to keep a straight face, and tries not to give anything away. His breath feels trapped in his lungs, and his stomach knots painfully. “Anyway, just think! If you move in with me, you can eat my fantastic cooking every day!”

“What an incentive,” Yamai says dryly, but he avoids the subject of moving in, instead returning to the one Jin anxiously tries to guide them away from. "Jin, you're like, destined to fall in love. You've got this big heart, and you're a huge romantic that tumbles into love, and I can't imagine you without a million kids." Yamapi's mouth is whirled up on one side, in a fond grin. It looks a little melancholy, too, but maybe Jin is reading things that aren’t there.

Jin laughs, and to his own ears, it sounds a little harsh. "I'm going to be alone forever," Jin says, and Yamapi rolls his eyes.

"Such melodrama," Pi says. "You won't be alone forever." He shoves another bite into his mouth, and Jin can't help the dry feeling in his throat as he looks at his best friend. His hair is kind of a mess, the bangs tied up off of his forehead, and he's sweaty and gross from the gym, and damnit all, Jin thinks, he's still so beautiful. "You'll find someone to love." His mouth is full of egg and rice and chicken. "Trust me."

Jin does trust him, but it's not finding someone to love that's the problem. It's finding someone else to love.

As Yamapi laughs and launches into a story about Toma and his many misadventures with gym equipment, Jin wonders how you move on when the perfect person is right in front of you.


***



Jin is grinding the coffee beans when his cell phone rings. "Jin, do you have coffee?"

"Hey Pi," Jin says. "Good morning to you too."

"I have an hour break, and your place is closer than mine. I need to shower, and I want coffee, so if you don't have any, I have to get some on the way to your place."

"I'm making it right now," Jin says with a chuckle. "Do what you must."

"See you in ten," Yamapi says, and then he hangs up, and Jin throws on a t-shirt, and drags his hair into a ponytail, knowing he's done a haphazard job of it but not really caring.

When Yamapi comes into Jin's apartment, he's covered in glitter and baking soda, and Jin doesn't ask any questions. He just hands Yamapi a mug of coffee, that he drains in fifteen seconds in a single gulp. “If you lived with me, I could always make you coffee,” Jin tells him, and Yamapi laughs shortly.

Then Yamapi just hands the mug right back, and disappears into the shower, and Jin stares bemusedly at the empty mug in his hands for a few seconds before taking it to the kitchen.

When Yamapi reappears, he looks a thousand times cleaner. He's got a towel wrapped around his waist, and he hadn't bothered to dry his hair, so it hangs wet, clinging to his face and neck and dripping down onto his chest.

"Get dressed," Jin says to Yamapi, and his voice must sound harsh. He's surprised he can make it come out at all, to be honest.

“What’s the big deal?” Yamapi says, shrugging. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“This isn’t your house,” Jin snaps, unable to tear his eyes away from the smooth lines of Yamapi’s abs. “You don’t even want it to be your house, so get dressed.”

Yamapi frowns. “Why is this so important to you, Jin?”

“I just want to hold on as tight as I can,” Jin says, his voice dry and catching in his throat, and then he blinks, because he feels the tears of hopelessness and desperation building in the corners.

He brushes past Yamapi, and locks himself into his bedroom. When he comes out, two hours later, Yamapi is gone.

There’s a note on the kitchen table.

Bakanishi, it starts. I drank the rest of the coffee. Jin laughs, because he’d known from the minute Yamapi had called that Yamapi was going to drink all the coffee. And, the note continues. I’m not going anywhere, whether I live with you or not. You’re stuck with me.


***


They fall asleep on the couch, one night, and when Jin wakes up in the morning, a crick in his neck and smelling sweaty and gross and desperately needing a shower, he can feel Yamapi’s slow and steady exhales ruffling his hair, and he can’t bring himself to move.

Yamapi cooks them both breakfast, forbidding Jin from touching anything because he’s actually really hungry and he likes his kitchen the way it is. Jin watches with amusement as Yamapi turns on TVXQ and dances around as he whisks the eggs in the bowl with a steady practiced hand.

“You have to live with me,” Jin says, and Yamapi sighs loudly and exasperatedly. “I eat so much better.”

It pulls at him, tugs at him unceasingly, this feeling, and he can’t make it stop.

Jin leaves right after breakfast. When he gets to his apartment, he gets into the shower, turning the water on full blast and sitting down, leaning his back against the tile and wrapping his arms around his knees.

Everything feels a little impossible, and Jin doesn’t want to, can’t lose his best friend over this.


***

Jin tries not to have existential crises on a frequent basis, because usually he cries and then his eyes are all puffy, and Johnny always asks him if he’s started doing drugs when his eyes are puffy.

But lately he can’t concentrate on anything but the conflicting feeling of wanting to run away and wanting to be closer all at once. Of wanting to pull Yamapi into his arms and kiss the smooth skin on his shoulder and run his hands up Yamapi’s svelte sides. Of not being able to meet Yamapi’s eyes when Yamapi tries to catch them from across the room to share a tiny inside joke, or of flinching from Yamapi’s familiar touch because of the jolt it sends through his entire body.

It’s driving him insane, burning him up inside, and he tries to keep it bottled up, to enjoy this time he and Yamapi have together, because he doesn’t know how long it will last, but it hurts, it fucking hurts, and sometimes he wants to just curl up into a ball until he can’t feel it at all anymore.

Jin, like Yamapi warned him, has tumbled into love.

Ryo drops by Jin’s apartment early in the afternoon one day. Jin opens the door, hair disheveled and eyes red from wallowing, and Ryo looks at him and rolls his eyes.

“Go take a shower,” he says sharply, pushing past Jin and disappearing into the kitchen. Jin hears him opening the refrigerator, and the tell-tale crinkling of his unopened loaf of bread being removed. “Now.”

When Jin emerges from the shower, wearing the destroyed sweatpants with the elastic showing at the waist, Ryo is waiting in the kitchen with two sandwiches.

“Sit down,” he says. Jin reaches for a sandwich, but Ryo smacks his hand. “If you want a sandwich, go make your own,” he tells Jin, and Jin looks at him incredulously.

“It’s my food,” Jin says.

“It’s my service fee for dragging you kicking and screaming out of your own mental deficiency,” Ryo says, taking a huge bite of his first sandwich. Jin sighs and leans back.

“I think I’m crazy,” Jin says. “I don’t know how to get over him.”

Ryo pauses in his sandwich eating, then carefully sets the sandwich down on the plate. He daintily pats around his mouth with a paper towel. “What?”

“My Gay-piphany, remember?” Jin says, and his hands are gripping the sides of the chair for want of something else to do with them. Jin wants to bite them, but that’s a habit he somehow trained himself out of years ago and he doesn’t want to get back into it now.

Ryo is looking at him with wide eyes and Jin feels strange, like he’s completely exposed to Ryo’s questioning gaze. “I was…Jesus, Jin, I was kidding, holy fuck.”

“Oh,” Jin says, and feels himself coloring under Ryo’s disbelieving stare. “Well, here we are.”

“Damn,” Ryo says. “You’re fucked.” Ryo tilts his head to the side, eyes still on Jin, who is blushing but meeting Ryo’s stare rather defiantly. Ryo lifts up his sandwich and takes another bite. “Or not fucked,” he adds consideringly. “I guess that’s the problem, right? No fucking.”

“I hate you so much,” Jin says, and Ryo chuckles, pushing a sandwich toward Jin.

“Eat, Akanishi,” Ryo says, and there’s a modicum of sympathy in his voice, undetectable to the naked ear but Jin knows Ryo rather well by now. “Food is better than sex, anyway.”

“I’ll tell that to your girlfriend Shige next time I see him,” Jin says, and Ryo picks up the salt-shaker nonchalantly from the table and throws it at Jin’s face. It hits Jin hard in the forehead, and he winces and rubs at the sore spot. “Ow, you fucker.”

“Your reflexes have gotten dull, Jin.”

“Your temper has gotten shorter, more like,” Jin replies. “What should I do, Ryo-chan?” Jin adds on a more serious note.

“Probably cry, then write a song about it in English so Yamapi won’t understand it.”

“You wouldn’t understand it either,” Jin jokes. “English isn’t really a strong suit for you.”

“Added bonus,” Ryo says, and Jin laughs faintly. “Look Jin, do I look like a guy who has successful relationships? I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Okay,” Jin says.

“But you can’t just close your eyes and wish the problem away. You’re going to lose your friend this way, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what you want.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Jin says hotly, and then he deflates, burying his head in his arms on the table. He focuses on the dull throbbing in his forehead to escape the dull throbbing in his chest.

“I’m becoming the Dalai Lama, or something,” Ryo says thoughtfully. “I should write a book.”

“With what free time?” Jin asks. “You’re busy enough as it is.”

“With all the time I waste counseling your stupid ass. Actually, calling you stupid is like an insult to stupid people everywhere.”

“You’re so mean,” Jin says, but he does feel strangely better.


***

Jin is still thinking about Ryo’s advice, later, when he’s sitting on Yamapi’s couch, watching television. Yamapi is in the kitchen doing dishes, and when he finishes, he comes out of the kitchen with something slow and purposeful in his step. Jin doesn’t look away from the television, but his stomach does that sickening clench it always does now, and his palms, pressed flat against his own thighs, start to sweat.

“So Jin,” Yamapi says, and Jin’s heart sinks because he’s out of time to figure this out. “What’s wrong with you lately? You’re acting bizarre.” Yamapi is looking through a magazine, and nonchalantly sits next to Jin on the sofa, on the side closest to the exit so Jin has to step around his long legs to escape.

Yamapi is cornering him in his own way, Jin supposes, because Yamapi’s not big on confrontation. Jin should have seen it coming, with the way he’s been avoiding Pi in a lot of ways—shying from his touch and from his gaze ever since he realized there was no getting over him. Yamapi is staring at the magazine, not looking at Jin at all, in the way that he does when he is trying really hard to pretend like he’s not intensely interested but he secretly is. “You don’t usually keep secrets from me.”

“I…” Jin doesn’t know what to say, not really. All the words he wants to say sound trite and silly now, like they aren’t enough to convey the depth of his feelings. Like Pi will just laugh at him anyway, so maybe he should just spit something else out. “I just want to be close to you,” he blurts out, and while he’s surprised at the words his subconscious has chosen, he thinks they’re the right ones.

“You are close to me, Jin,” Yamapi says, sounding confused and lost. “I don’t understand what that has to do with living with me, or with why you won’t even look at me nowadays. If I’ve done something to make you—“

“When I wake up in the morning at my apartment,” Jin tries to explain, “it’s cold. Even in the summer, without air conditioning, it’s cold.” He licks his lips. “But your house is always warm, even in the winter, when you refuse to turn on the heat because you are worried about global warming or some shit.”

Yamapi is staring at Jin like he has three heads. “That doesn’t make any sense, Jin.”

“It’s too quiet, at my place, unless you’re there. You’re my best friend, and you…you fill the silence in a way no one else can.”

Yamapi does laugh, then. “So you’re too lonely living by yourself? I mean, that explains why you want me to live with you, but not why you’ve been acting so damn weird. Why you’ve been avoiding me.” Yamapi flips aimlessly through the magazine, stopping every now and then to read a caption to a photo.

Jin looks miserably at his hands. “I’m not done,” he answers, before he screws together something that might be courage, but Jin’s mistaken recklessness for courage before. His cuticles are a little raw, red and puffy, and he has at least two hangnails. “There’s…more.” Jin almost chokes on the words.

“What?” Yamapi says, and turns his full attention to Jin as he registers Jin’s strangled tone.

Jin flushes under the scrutiny, but speaks. “I’d be lying if I said those are the only reasons I want to live with you.”

Yamapi’s brows climb his face.

Jin scrambles for the words. “When I fall asleep next to you on the couch, I sleep better than I do in a proper bed anywhere else,” he says. “And when I hear you singing and dancing in the kitchen in the morning I feel this awful, sugary feeling like I just drank seven bottles of Pepsi and they’re just sitting in the pit of my stomach, and I think to myself ‘This is the only thing I want to wake up to,’ and it’s stupid, I know it’s stupid, but I want it all the time.”

“Jin…”

“And when you lay your head in my lap, and I’m playing with your hair while we watch trivia shows, I imagine myself in twenty years doing the same thing.”

“Jin—“

“And I used to have this dream, of this white house and these two kids and this dog and this faceless woman, and it was like, my perfect family, and now instead all I can see is you and Pin and sometimes kids but always YOU, smiling at me and wearing terrible clothes and having terrible haircuts and refusing to turn on the air-conditioner, and I can’t help it.”

Jin can feel his eyes welling up, a little, and he doesn’t want to look at Pi, to see the realization slowly dawn, to see the confusion slowly change to disgust.

Yamapi’s voice is soft and disbelieving. “Jin, what are you saying?”

Jin’s head falls into his hands. “I’m saying that I don’t care if living with you means I can’t bring girls home from L.A., because I don’t want them. I’m saying that it doesn’t matter if I have to vacuum every goddamn day, because if that’s what I have to do to make you happy, then I’ll do it. I’m saying that I don’t care if everything in the whole apartment ends up being pink, because pink reminds me of you, and I think about you all the time anyway, so it’ll just give me an excuse. I’m saying that I want to live with you, and not because I’m lonely, but because I’m lonely without you.”

“Jin,” Yamapi whispers, and his eyes are wide, and Jin thinks they look like pools in the moonlight—he can see the stars reflected from the night sky shining in the waters of Yamapi’s dark eyes.

Jin swallows. “So I know it’s probably not what you wanted to hear and I just—“ Jin’s words are cut off as Yamapi pulls him in tight, and Jin’s face mashes into Yamapi’s muscular chest, He breathes in the scent of Yamapi’s lavender detergent, and of Yamapi’s skin, which smells like sunflowers.

“Jin, you idiot,” Yamapi mutters into Jin’s hair, his voice sounding thick like he might be crying. “Jin you big fucking idiot.”

Jin’s hands fist in Yamapi’s t-shirt. “You’re not mad?” he asks, still trying to figure out what’s happening.

“Yes, I’m mad!” Yamapi says, voice still muffled by Jin’s fluffy hair. His hands are tightly gripping at Jin’s back, pulling him so tight that Jin can’t think of pulling back to look at Yamapi’s face. “I thought you’d never…I thought I was the only one who...”

Jin can feel his heart stop. “What?” He wants to look at Yamapi, but Yamapi’s hold is steadfast, and Jin can only feel the rapid beating of Pi’s heart as he relaxes in Pi’s arms.

“Jin, I don’t care that you’re messy. I don’t care if you stay up too late playing music, or if you can’t cook. I don’t care that you accidentally leave the air conditioner on in the summer even when you’re not home,” Pi says softly, and Jin licks his lips.

“Then why…? Why did you keep making all those excuses?”

“Because,” and now, now Pi pulls away from Jin, resting his strong hands on Jin’s shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes. His face is kind of wet, and Jin wonders if he’s been crying or if Jin’s hair is still a little wet from the shower, or it’s some combination of the two. “Do you know what it’s like to be in love with your best friend, and not be able to say anything? To worry that if you say anything, if you give anything away, you could lose the best thing in your life?”

Jin looks at Pi, just looks at him. He looks at his eyes, framed by those fluttering lashes that tickle Jin’s forehead when Pi falls asleep watching dramas, and he looks at Pi’s mouth, with it’s gentle laugh lines, and imagines the way Pi’s whole face lights up when he laughs from deep in his belly. He looks at Pi’s strong shoulders, and arms, which Jin falls into first thing when he comes back from a trip, because Pi is always waiting at the airport for him, and always swings him around like he’s Scarlett O’ Hara, and doesn’t give a fuck if anyone is watching. He looks at Pi and he sees all his happiness, wrapped up in one man, one man who’s been with him since as long as he cares to remember.

“Yeah, I think I might know exactly what that feels like,” Jin says, and a grin steals it’s way across Yamapi’s face like sunlight breaking through the end of night, and it is dawn now in Jin’s heart.

And there’s nothing for Jin to do now but lean forward and kiss him, to capture some of that sunlight in his lips and taste a bit of that new morning.

Yamapi’s lips slip against his own with intent, and Jin’s hands creep timidly around Yamapi’s waist to clutch at the back of his shirt. Yamapi just pulls him tighter against his hard chest, and it makes Jin sigh and part his lips. Yamapi takes immediate advantage, rushing into his mouth and exploring, and Jin is quick to respond, too, tilting his head slightly left for more access. Yamapi’s mouth is hot and slick, and addictive, and Jin feels like he’s being drugged by Yamapi’s drawling kisses, lazy liquid fire as he slowly caresses the inside of Jin’s mouth, dragging along the inside of Jin’s teeth and mewling when Jin playfully nips at his tongue, not hard enough to hurt.

Jin pushes him backward, and now Yamapi is laying flat on his back on the couch, and Jin is scrambling to get closer.

“Motherfucker,” Yamapi yells out suddenly, when Jin slides up to straddle Yamapi on the couch, legs on either side of Yamapi’s hips in the narrow space.

“What?” Jin says, immediately sitting up, lips leaving Yamapi’s collarbone in favor of looking down at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“The fucking couch stabbed me in the ass!” Yamapi says, and Jin can’t help it, he burst in to laughter, the kind that makes his whole belly shake, and Yamapi tries to glare at him, but soon he’s laughing too, and Jin collapses down onto him, head falling into the crook of Yamapi’s neck.

“I told you it was a devil-couch,” Jin say, and his lips brush across Yamapi’s ear, and suddenly Yamapi isn’t laughing anymore, and his body is quivering again with something other than mirth.

“Cockblocked by my own couch,” Yamapi says. “The traitor.” He gasps out the last part, because Jin has sucked his earlobe into his mouth, nibbling lightly with his teeth, and then Jin is kissing right behind it. “Jin,” he whispers, and Jin pulls back again, to look at him, and Yamapi’s eyes are smoldering, the dark color of his irises looking almost aflame.

Jin licks his lips, and Yamapi’s eyes shift down hungrily, and it sends shivers down Jin’s spine. “Bedroom,” he says hoarsely, and Yampi sits up with Jin on top him, lifting Jin like he’s nothing, even though Jin is a grown man and not that light. Jin admires the way Yamapi’s abs clench with the effort.

When Yamapi picks him up completely, standing next to the couch with his hands tight around Jin’s waist, tight enough to bruise, Jin wraps his legs around Yamapi’s waist, catching his balance by sinking his fingers into Yamapi’s hair, and brings his mouth back to Yamapi’s for another kiss.

It burns even hotter than before, and Yamapi grunts with the strain of holding Jin, sliding his hands down to Jin’s ass and grabbing, holding Jin up from below. He pulls Jin tighter against him, and now it’s Jin who gasps, lips lifting from Yamapi to release a blissful sound as their hips grind together just right.

“Bedroom,” Jin says again, and Yamapi starts walking, blindly, bumping them into walls and shattering a lamp when Jin’s knee hits it and it falls to the floor. It stings, but Jin doesn’t care, because then Pi has him pressed against the wall in the hallway outside Pi’s bedroom door, and he’s kissing Jin so fiercely that Jin’s worried the heat building up inside him is going to set the whole flat on fire.

Jin drops his legs and pushes Yamapi back, through the door, hands reaching for the fastening to Yamapi’s jeans as Yamapi releases Jin’s mouth for mere seconds to tug his shirt over his head before he dives back in, tongue licking and exploring all over again. Jin’s hands frantically pull at the button on Yamapi’s jeans, yanking down the zipper, and then Jin is pushing Yamapi’s jeans and briefs down to the floor blindly as Yamapi attacks his lips.

Jin shoves, hard, and Yamapi falls to the bed, and Jin grabs his arms and pins him, legs once again on either side of Pi’s hips. It’s just like when they used to wrestle, Jin thinks, teasing each other and tickling, only now Yamapi is hard and naked and wanting beneath him, so it’s so much better than that.

“Why am I the only one naked, here?” Yamapi gasps, when Jin drags himself away from the blissful heat of Yamapi’s mouth and the curling deviousness of his tongue to lick and suck his way along Yamapi’s jaw.

“Because I’m more industrious than you are,” Jin replies, pressing down with denim-clad hips against Yamapi’s naked erection. The cloth separating them is enough to tease Jin, to make him want Yamapi so bad he thinks he might explode. “I want you so bad,” Jin says, and Yamapi’s quick inhale is all the warning Jin has before Yamapi is rolling them over. They wrestle for control, but Yamapi is stronger than Jin, and more ruthless, skating his fingers across Jin’s collarbone until Jin is laughing and relenting.

Yamapi uses his newfound position on top to divest Jin of his t-shirt, before leaning in and dropping his open mouth over Jin’s nipple, causing Jin to arch up in desperate want. It’s hot, so hot, and all of a sudden Jin remembers being pressed up against the wall in that random L.A. nightclub, wishing the lips on him were Yamapi’s.

Now they are, and desire and lust curl and snap like whips of fire in Jin’s gut, and he feels a surge of possessiveness wind up through him. Yamapi’s tongue sneaks out and circles around his belly button, dipping into the indentation like a tease, and Jin snaps, pressing his hand against Yamapi’s shoulders and toppling him.

The battle for dominance, a tussling sort of play that has Yamapi laughing even as he’s moaning, because Jin cheats and wraps his hand around Yamapi’s cock and Yamapi’s suddenly not struggling anymore. He’s laying spread out for Jin’s eyes across tangled cotton sheets, his skin soft and flush, and looking even rosier against the gentle pink of Yamapi’s bed-set, and Jin can’t resist crawling down and wrapping his lips around Yamapi’s purple erection.

The pre-come tastes salty in his mouth, and it’s not what he expected. He’s not upset at the taste, and the sinful, lush moan Yamapi gives out when Jin lets Yamapi’s cock sink all the way to the back of his throat has Jin’s blood singing and his erection straining painfully against his jeans.

“Jin, if you don’t stop, I’m going to…” Yamapi says, and Jin ignores him in favor of the tiny gasping whines Yamapi makes when he curves his tongue along the underside of Yamapi’s cock, and the way his entire chest is red with arousal. “Jin not like this.” Jin thinks like this is fine, though, just fine, and he loves the control, the way he’s unraveling Yamapi like Yamapi is the loose piece of thread at the waist of his sweatpants. He loves the way Yamapi is falling apart under the circle of his lips and the flicks of his tongue.

But Yamapi is determined, threading his hands into Jin’s hair and yanking, fiercely, tugging Jin up to his mouth and grabbing at Jin’s jeans, which fall open under Yamapi’s clever and dexterous touch as easily as Jin does, Jin’s mouth tumbling open at the insistent prod of Yamapi’s tongue.

“No underwear?” Yamapi asks, as Jin hisses at the brush of Yamapi’s fingers across his now-bared erection.

“Hate doing laundry,” Jin says, and Yamapi laughs and runs his palm along the length of Jin’s dick, movements restricted by Jin’s jeans.

“Jin,” Yamapi gasps, as Jin slides his own jeans off and kicks them to the floor. “Fuck me.”

Jin throbs at the words, and pushes against Yamapi, and Yamapi makes this keening sound as Jin’s cock rubs hard against his own. “Yeah?” Jin asks, and he’s looking straight into Yamapi’s eyes.

Yamapi flicks his eyes over to the bed-side table, and what Jin finds inside are any number of bizarre things, from rabbit shaped paper-clips to pocket knives to some weird contraption Jin is pretty sure they can use some other time. “What are you, a bedroom boyscout?” Jin asks, as he wraps his fingers around a tube of lubrication, and then seeks out a condom.

“Always be prepared,” Yamapi says cheekily as Jin opens the tube of lube and squirts a little into his palm.

Jin warms it in his hand, as Yamapi watches him with heavy lidded eyes as Jin slicks three fingers with it, casually wiping the remainder on his thigh. “So,” Jin says conversationally. “I only know vaguely what I’m doing here.”

Yamapi chuckles. “Do you know where your dick goes?” he asks, and Jin smiles.

“I always know where my dick goes,” Jin replies, leaning down to press a kiss on Yamapi’s hip bone. Yamapi’s erection his swollen, and Jin can’t resist another quick lick along the underside with the flat of his tongue.

“Well, hurry up and put your fingers there first, to stretch it out,” Yamapi manages, and then Jin’s eyes catch Yamapi’s again, and he’s wriggling his index finger into that impossibly tight hole, watching Yamapi’s every reaction for signs of discomfort. “Weird,” Yamapi says, as Jin flexes the finger, and starts pumping it in and out. “Weird but not bad weird. Just weird weird.”

“And this is why I’m the good songwriter,” Jin says, pressing a kiss against the inside of Yamapi’s thigh as Yamapi starts to loosen around his finger. “At least you’re pretty.” He quickly slides in another, and scissors them, carefully, and Yamapi jumps, startled, when Jin crooks them. “What happened?”

“That, again,” Yamapi says, licking his lips. Jin bends his fingers again, and then Yamapi is gasping loudly, hips arching slightly as Jin watches amazed, pressing his fingers against that spot over and over again as Yamapi thrashes and keens for more. “oh my fucking god, Jin, hurry up,” Yamapi says, and it sounds almost like a sob, and it makes Jin so hot that he has to reach down and touch himself, with his other hand, or he’s going to go insane.

He slides a third finger into Yamapi, and now he prods against that spot repeatedly, thrusting into his own hand as Yamapi pushes back against his intruding fingers.

“Now, Jin. Now.” Jin doesn’t hesitate, grasping blindly on his left for the tube of lube and the condom, quickly tearing the foil and rolling it on, trying not to shudder as his overly excited cock throbs at the thought of being inside Yamapi, at feeling those muscles constricting around him, grip as tight as a glove. He lathers the outside with lube, and then lines himself up with Yamapi’s hole.

“Pi,” he says, and Yamapi’s eyes are the darkest Jin’s ever seen them, full of all kinds of things both spoken and unspoken, and then Yamapi hooks his legs around Yamapi’s waist and drags him forward, and then Jin is pushing inside the tightest thing he’s ever felt. “Holy shit,” Jin says, and he tries to stay still, wants to look up and see if Yamapi’s okay, but then Yamapi lets out this rough yell and it’s all Jin can do to keep from shattering right there at Yamapi’s voice, which is probably the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

“Move,” Yamapi says, and then Jin is pulling all the way out and then ramming himself back in, hard, and Yamapi’s moan is jerky, his voice rising and falling as Jin slams in and our, hitting that spot inside Yamapi with almost every thrust. “Faster.”

They won’t last long, and they both know it. Yamapi was ready to come before Jin had even slid inside him, and denial of friction had left Jin so aching and aroused it had hurt, and now, sheathed inside of Yamapi, in the most perfect grip he’d ever felt in his entire life, Jin could feel himself balancing on the tentative edge of orgasm.

“Pi, I’m gonna—“

“Me too,” Yamapi says, and then Jin grasps between them and jerks, once, twice, and then Yamapi is coming all over his hand and on both of their chests, and his spasms push Jin over the edge as well, everything going white for what must be seconds but feels like minutes as Jin soars.

Then he’s collapsing, feeling himself start to soften inside of Yamapi, and he pulls himself out, typing the end of the condom and throwing it somewhere that is decidedly not the trash.

“You’re disgusting,” Pi mumbles as he drags Jin’s body up so that Jin is laying comfortably at his side, Jin’s head resting on his arm and Jin’s own arm slung across Yamapi’s sweaty torso. “You’ve torn my apartment apart in minutes. You’re like a natural disaster.”

“So does this mean you don’t want to live with me?” Jin asks, smiling, and Yamapi looks down, before reaching over with his left hand and lifting Jin’s chin up. He presses the softest of kisses against Jin’s forehead.

“I think we can work something out,” Yamapi says, and Jin’s arm tightens around Yamapi’s torso, feeling like nothing in his life has ever been so flawless. “What are you doing, Jin?” Yamapi asks, as he feels Jin’s constricting grip.

“Holding on as tight as I can,” Jin says. “And never letting go.”

Yamapi presses another kiss to his forehead, and Jin feels like the sun.


***

Jin hears Yamapi open the door, and grabs a couple more beers from the fridge when he hears Ryo’s voice echoing through the hallways of their new apartment.

“Nice place,” Ryo says, and Jin grins as he grabs the hot pink bottle opened that Yamapi had insisted on.

“Want a drink?” Jin offers, holding out the beer to Ryo as he walks into the living room.

“Who left the door to his cage open?” Ryo asks jerking a thumb at Jin as Jin sets the bottle on the coffee table in front of him, and Kamenashi snorts as Jin hands him a beer too. “And where is the bottle opener?”

Jin fishes it out of his pocket, and Ryo stares at it like it has herpes. “Here you go,” Jin says, smirking, as Ryo gingerly takes it and opens Kamenashi’s bottle, then his own.

“What is this monstrosity of gay?” Ryo asks, and Yamapi looks up from where he’s chatting with Yuu about Yuu’s new stage play.

“You don’t like it?”

“Well, it does make me want to get drunker,” Ryo muses. “So maybe it’s serving it’s purpose after all.”

Kusano appears from the balcony, and sinks down on the couch. “I love this couch,” he says, and Jin grins.

“We just bought it,” Jin says.

“Good, because Yamapi’s old couch was possessed by the ghost of Kame’s dignity, and your sofa looked like it had had sex with the entire cast of MacBeth,” Ryo tells him, and Yamapi crows in victory.

“I told you your couch was terrible, too,” Yamapi says, and Shirota is laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach, and Kamenashi is looking at them all like they’re his minions. Kusano has his head leaning back contentedly, enjoying the soft fabric of Jin’s new couch.

“Akanishi has always had subpar taste in, well, everything,” Kamenashi says, eying the pink and red plaid throw pillows on the armchair. “Yamashita excluded.” He prods one of the pillows with a tentative finger, and grimaces. “These really are the worst of both worlds, though.”

Ryo cackles, because he delights in other people being mocked, and give Kame a high five.

Jin catches Yamapi’s eye as Yamapi heads into the kitchen to score a few more drinks, and the smile that Yamapi offers him in return is so bright that Jin feels like he’ll never be lonely again.

He’ll always have this home to come back to, no matter how well he does in America, or what happens with his career, and he’s never going to let Yamapi slip through his fingers.


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