maayacolabackup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maayacolabackup) wrote2011-12-25 03:54 am
maayacolabackup) wrote2011-12-25 03:54 am
Entry tags:
Second Best (Tegomass, R) [So-Homo Fic Exchange]
Title: Second Best
Pairing: Tegomass
Rating: R plus, lol
Warnings: Crack, Massu’s hard life, Tegoshi.
Notes: Crack-porn. Because I had a million ideas for what to write![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ryogrande for the ‘so-homo kurisumasu fanfic exchange’ but this is what happened. I’d apologize, but I’m not actually sorry. This is PWP, basically. I don’t need a plot. Plots are for suckers.
Other Notes: Guys. GUYS. Christmas is a time of love and stuff. I have a lot of love forryogrande. No-homo. OR SO HOMO?! Ri and I don't need to get each other for hols to write each other fanfic, basically. Thus was born the 'SO-HOMO' KURISUMASU FANFIC EXCHANGE. Because, well, she's awesome, and fun, and cool, and a million trillion other wonderful adjectives, and the only way I know how to show her how much I appreciate that, on the birthday of Jesus, is in filthy Tegoshi dub-con. I'm broken, but she likes me anyway! See?! She's a lovely lady, who I am honored to know, and who I'm looking forward to exchanging homo things with in the coming year. MERRI KURISUMASU. I love you like Kame loves denim, like Ryo loves being a dick, like Jin just loves dick.
Tegoshi realized, at a young age, that he was, well, better than everyone else. It’s not just his refined taste in everything or his superior looks, singing, and dancing; it’s his outlook on the world, really.
Even Johnny had noticed it, debuting him after mere months of being a Johnny’s junior, to be one of the vocal saviors of NewS— after all, half the band needs to be able to carry a tune to make it worthwhile calling yourself a band.
Then Tegoshi had blossomed into a beautiful swan—it was all to be expected, really, what with his superior genetics and adorable face—Tegoshi had been born to be a star, and there’s really nothing that is out of his reach.
All of that aside, Tegoshi thinks his life is going really well. Yamapi and Ryo have left NewS, but hey, Tegoshi gets more pages in the CD booklets, so that’s really not a bad thing. Tegoshi will miss Yamapi’s fabulous ass, but, well, you win some you lose some. And Tegomass is doing better than ever—selling out concerts as easy as one, two, three, and Tegoshi knows it’s because of him, not because of the dubious star-power of his now-former bandmate.
Well, because of him and Massu, Tegoshi supposes. They make a good team, despite the fact that Massu seems moments away from strangling him at any given moment.
So yeah, Tegoshi is pretty happy with his life in almost every aspect. Though there is the moderately annoying problem of his love life. It’s not that there isn’t anyone who wants to sleep with Tegoshi, obviously, it’s just that Tegoshi has ridiculously high standards, with good reason.
All Tegoshi wants the best life has to offer, and when he looks at Massu, who is peeling off his concert t-shirt, revealing sweat-slick skin and perfect abdominal muscles, Tegoshi thinks it doesn’t get much better than this.
Tegoshi can’t help but admire the way Massu’s back ripples with every exhale, and the way his ass seems to be made of solid steel, that Tegoshi wants to touch despite the fact that he’s not entirely sure what kind of synthetic fabric Massu’s pants are made out of.
“Stop staring at me,” Massu says, carefully selecting a clean towel from the twelve he has stacked up in front of the mirror on his side of the dressing room. Massu feels the first two then takes the third, bringing it to his nose and smelling it. Then he massages the corner of the fabric carefully between his thumb and index finger, like he’s testing the quality of the terrycloth. He sighs contentedly as it seems to pass whatever bizarre inspection he’s giving it, and then he carefully dries the sweat on his face before moving on to his shoulders. “What’s your deal?”
“I’m not staring,” Tegoshi says, and licks at suddenly dry lips. “I’m admiring.”
“Well, whatever it is, stop it,” Massu says. “It’s creepy.”
“Nothing I do is creepy,” Tegoshi says, and his throat feels scratched, like he’s hoarse. Tegoshi knows he’s just sung for three hours, but he is far too boss for that to be affecting him. His vocal chords are in perfect condition, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to feel any discomfort in his throat… except that Massu is rubbing across his own chest with a towel, flexing for Tegoshi like it’s a private show. “Everything I do is awesome.”
“Okay,” Massu says. “Well I can’t handle all that awesome. Do you think you could direct it… towards the wall, or something?”
“Does it make you uncomfortable, when I look at you like this?” Tegoshi asks, dropping his voice a little lower than usual to see if he can get Massu’s attention. Massu is now rubbing his hands and arms vigorously with hand-sanitizer, and the room smells like citrus and nail polish remover. Not the sexy ambience Tegoshi would prefer, but Massu likes things being clean, so the smell of Rock n Roll and sweat probably wouldn’t work for Massu at all.
That’s fine, Tegoshi can make a few sacrifices in the name of bedding perfection.
“Yes,” Massu says. “I always feel like you’re about to touch my butt.”
“Would you hate that?” Tegoshi asks, grabbing his own towel, pink and oversized and fluffy, from the back of his chair, and drying his own sweat. The towel feels good in his hair, and Tegoshi’s head feels lighter when he drops the towel to the floor in a crumpled heap. Massu hears it, and turns to look at Tegoshi with distaste.
“Yes,” Massu says, but he’s not frowning, which Tegoshi takes as encouragement. “And also, your towel is on the floor. This is shared space. Be neat.”
“Yes sir,” Tegoshi says, and then he pulls his t-shirt over his head, and drops that to the floor too, just to be a bitch.
Massu sighs, and turns back to his own mirror, where he starts using tiny cotton balls to remove the foundation from his face. Tegoshi watches as Massu uses each cotton ball once or twice before dropping the old one in the trash and grabbing a new one. “Our voices sound good together,” Massu says to himself, like it’s a mantra he repeats in the shower, or when he goes to bed, or every single time he remembers that he spends more than three quarters of his life with Tegoshi.
Tegoshi doesn’t think it should really be that big of a hardship. Tegoshi is in physical pain when he’s forced to look at the things Massu wears offstage, but Tegoshi doesn’t have a mantra. Tegoshi just accepts it as a part of Massu that is terrible and moves on.
He mostly moves on because it’s the only terrible part of Massu, and they’ve been on tour for two months, and despite Tegoshi’s repeated overtures, Massu doesn’t seem to have gotten the idea that Tegoshi would totally deign to fuck him.
Which is annoying. And if Tegoshi wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that he is perfect, it might even have stung a little bit.
Luckily, Tegoshi knows his own value. Which is more than everyone else’s.
“Tegoshi. The staring. It has to stop,” Massu says, and he turns to Tegoshi, folding strong arms across his chest.
“What if I don’t want to?” Tegoshi asks.
Perhaps, Tegoshi thinks, it’s time for the direct approach.
“What?” Massu says, and Tegoshi walks over to Massu’s side of the dressing room, stopping next to the counter. He pointedly gets into Massu’s personal space, and Massu’s breath hitches as he presses his back against the counter to put as much space between them as possible.
“I think you like it,” Tegoshi says. “If I’m staring at you, that’s a compliment. I usually only stare at myself.”
“I don’t like it,” Massu says, but there’s a hitch in his voice. Tegoshi grins, and Massu’s eyes widen as he gulps. “Not at all.”
Massu sounds nervous, and Tegoshi seizes that weakness, and presses his advantage. “Hmmm, are you sure?” Tegoshi whispers, and his breath blows on Massu’s cheek, and Massu’s eyes flutter closed.
Now Tegoshi’s mouth doesn’t feel dry at all, and he can taste the sweetness of victory. Tegoshi’s not much for sharing, but he thinks Massu, who’s a reknowned gourmet, might enjoy this particular flavor as much as Tegoshi does.
So Tegoshi presses his mouth to Massu’s, firmly, and Massu flinches, and presses back on Tegoshi’s shoulders, like he wants Tegoshi to stop. Tegoshi leans back. “What?”
“This is so inappropriate, I can’t even,” Massu says, and Tegoshi laughs. “You don’t even know if I like guys.”
“Everyone likes me,” Tegoshi says, because Tegoshi can’t comprehend the idea of someone not liking him. “What’s not to like?”
“You’re kind of unbelievable,” Massu says, and he’s laughing a little. Tegoshi would like to think it’s because he’s shocked by the gift of Tegoshi’s attention.
“I am,” Tegoshi says. “Too good to be true, isn’t it?” Tegoshi leans forward, wanting to set his hands along the curve of Massu’s wide jaw, and let his fingers brush along the backsides of Massu’s ears. But Massu grabs his hands halting them between them.
Tegoshi feels his eyebrow lift in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Your hands… Massu stutters. “They aren’t clean. You’ve touched all the doorknobs and the floor.”
“Oh,” Tegoshi says, and his eyes dart to the counter. He grabs Massu’s hand sanitizer and squirts some onto his hands, wincing at the way it squelches between his fingers. Massu watches him incredulously, and Tegoshi smiles reassuringly, holding up his hands and wriggling them in Massu’s face. “No more excuses,” and then he’s kissing Massu again.
Massu doesn’t kiss him back, at first. Tegoshi guesses he’s still surprised by his good fortune; who wouldn’t be, really. Tegoshi Yuya has got it going on. But then, suddenly, Massu sighs, and his mouth tumbles open, and Tegoshi gleefully slips his tongue into the other man’s mouth, licking at his cheeks and enjoying the way Massu, who tastes like gyoza and soy sauce, trembles just the slightest bit at Tegoshi’s raw sexuality.
“You’re so weird,” Massu mumbles, and Tegoshi smiles, because Massu can say whatever he wants, but Tegoshi is finally getting what he wants.
“You like it,” Tegoshi says, licking a wet stripe along Massu’s neck. He presses his lips to the wet line, leaving tiny kisses, then he blows softly, and Massu shudders. Tegoshi presses closer, and Massu’s hands softly press along Tegoshi’s waist, almost like he’s scared to touch. Tegoshi has no idea why, since Massu doesn’t even know about all they toys waiting for him later in Tegoshi’s secret sex dungeon. “Don’t be afraid--”
“You don’t bite?” Massu finishes for him, and Tegoshi lets his teeth sink into the skin at the crook of Massu’s neck. Massu yelps, but his hips jerk, too, and he’s half-hard in his terrible pants. It makes Tegoshi grin.
“Oh, I do,” Tegoshi says. “But you’ll like that too.”
“Why are you doing this?” Massu asks, as Tegoshi nibbles his way down Massu’s collarbone, and lets his tongue explore the pebbled nipples he finds along his downward trek. Massu’s abs quiver beneath his lips, and Tegoshi likes that, too.
“Because I want the best,” Tegoshi replies, and Massu releases a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“So I’m the best?” Massu asks, like he can’t believe the words coming out of Tegoshi’s mouth.
“No,” Tegoshi says, as he licks circles around Massu’s navel. “I’m the best. But you’re the best I can do outside of myself.” Tegoshi sighs, and Massu blushes as the air caresses wet skin. Tegoshi loves the way that hot flush looks across Massu’s dimpled cheeks. “As much as I like watching myself masturbate in the mirror, at times it does get a bit dull.”
“You don’t say,” Massu replies, and he’s holding onto the counter for dear life.
“I know,” Tegoshi says. “I couldn’t fathom it either.” And Massu snorts, and Tegoshi thinks that if Massu can still make those derisive noises Tegoshi clearly needs to be working harder. “It was lucky for you.”
“Lucky? You molested me!”
Tegoshi presses a palm to Massu’s growing erection and looks him in the eyes. “Are you really complaining?”
Massu’s eyes shift away. He doesn’t say anything. Tegoshi’s okay with that—he likes listening to his own voice more than anyone else’s.
“Of course not,” Tegoshi says, and then he leans in and pulls Massu’s earlobe between his teeth. Massu moans, low and long, and that’s how Tegoshi knows he’s won. “You like this.”
“So you say,” Massu answers, and now his nails are digging into the skin at Tegoshi’s waist. Tegoshi will take that out of his hide later (because he spends a lot of time and effort to have flawless skin, and because sometimes he needs to wear above the navel tube tops, for ~reasons~), but he always saves the kinkier games for later along in a sexual partnership: it’s scared men away before, and Massu is finickier than most.
“You like this,” Tegoshi says again, dropping fully to his knees. Massu gingerly puts his hands on Tegoshi’s shoulders, and Tegoshi leans forward and presses his nose to the bulge in Massu’s shorts.
Tegoshi tugs Massu’s pants down, and Massu only hisses at the air as it meets bare flesh. “Tegoshi,” Massu says, and it sounds almost angry, but when he looks up, Massu’s just staring at him. Tegoshi doesn’t blame Massu; Tegoshi knows he looks good on his knees. He looks good everywhere, but probably especially on his knees.
“So now you don’t mind clothes on the floor,” Tegoshi says, and wraps lips around Massu’s cock.
Those strong fingers of Massu’s, ones that sound good along the keyboard while Tegoshi sings… They twist in Tegoshi’s sweaty hair, and if Tegoshi had known all it would take to get Massu to ease up on the OCD was a good blow-job, ‘Tegomass no Ai’ might have had a different title. Like ‘Tegomass no All-Night-Sex-Party’. Or ‘Tegomass no Sucking-Massu-Off-So-He-Stops-Bitching-About-the-Air-Freshner-Brand’.
Massu lets out a long keening whine as Tegoshi licks around the crown, licking carefully along the slit. He wraps a hand around the base of Massu’s cock, squeezing just enough to hold him still, and presses his other hand against Massu’s pelvic bone to halt the tiny thrusting movements Massu has unconsciously started to perform.
“No rushing me,” Tegoshi says. “An artist like myself needs time to work.”
“Shut up,” Massu says. “And do…something.”
Tegoshi smirks and opens his mouth wide. He lets Massu’s cock slip deep into his throat, and when it hits the back of it, Tegoshi hums, and Massu hiccups in surprise.
“Oh,” Massu says. “Oh.”
Tegoshi brings the hand that lingers at the base of Massu’s dick down to cradle his balls. He softly touches them, and likes the way it makes Massu tremble. “You like this,” Tegoshi murmurs against the wet head, and Massu’s eyes are squeezed closed. “You’d like it more if you watched.”
“Normal people ask people out on dates when they like them,” Massu manages to say around gasps, as Tegoshi teases and taunts with an adventurous tongue.
“I take myself out to dinner all the time,” Tegoshi says. “That’s the person I like best.”
“You’re sick,” Massu says, but he sounds caught between arousal and amusement, and Tegoshi deep-throats him again just to make sure things lean more toward the former, relishing the pulsing throb of Massu's cock as the underside rests flat against his tongue.
Then Massu’s whines come at a quicker pace, and his thighs clench, hips pushing against Tegoshi's hand, and that’s all the warning Tegoshi gets before Massu falls forward and spills into Tegoshi’s mouth. His whole body quakes with it, and that’s when Tegoshi remembers he’s hard, too.
Oh well. Later.
Baby steps, Tegoshi thinks.
“For someone who never eats, you’re awful good at swallowing,” Massu says when he’s caught his breath, and Tegoshi smirks.
"Why do you think I never eat?”
Massu blanches. “Oh, gross.”
“Next time,” Tegoshi says, licking his lips. “Next time I’m going to fuck you. You’ll like that too.”
“Only,” Massu says weakly, like all the fight’s drained out of him with his release, “if you take a shower.” Massu exhales heavily. “And get, like, ten STD tests.” Massu shudders. “A semen-only diet. Gross.”
Tegoshi grins. Now they are talking.
It ends up being a long shower, but Tegoshi blames his animal magnetism.
Pairing: Tegomass
Rating: R plus, lol
Warnings: Crack, Massu’s hard life, Tegoshi.
Notes: Crack-porn. Because I had a million ideas for what to write
ryogrande for the ‘so-homo kurisumasu fanfic exchange’ but this is what happened. I’d apologize, but I’m not actually sorry. This is PWP, basically. I don’t need a plot. Other Notes: Guys. GUYS. Christmas is a time of love and stuff. I have a lot of love for
ryogrande. No-homo. OR SO HOMO?! Ri and I don't need to get each other for hols to write each other fanfic, basically. Thus was born the 'SO-HOMO' KURISUMASU FANFIC EXCHANGE. Because, well, she's awesome, and fun, and cool, and a million trillion other wonderful adjectives, and the only way I know how to show her how much I appreciate that, on the birthday of Jesus, is in filthy Tegoshi dub-con. I'm broken, but she likes me anyway! See?! She's a lovely lady, who I am honored to know, and who I'm looking forward to exchanging homo things with in the coming year. MERRI KURISUMASU. I love you like Kame loves denim, like Ryo loves being a dick, like Jin just loves dick.Tegoshi realized, at a young age, that he was, well, better than everyone else. It’s not just his refined taste in everything or his superior looks, singing, and dancing; it’s his outlook on the world, really.
Even Johnny had noticed it, debuting him after mere months of being a Johnny’s junior, to be one of the vocal saviors of NewS— after all, half the band needs to be able to carry a tune to make it worthwhile calling yourself a band.
Then Tegoshi had blossomed into a beautiful swan—it was all to be expected, really, what with his superior genetics and adorable face—Tegoshi had been born to be a star, and there’s really nothing that is out of his reach.
All of that aside, Tegoshi thinks his life is going really well. Yamapi and Ryo have left NewS, but hey, Tegoshi gets more pages in the CD booklets, so that’s really not a bad thing. Tegoshi will miss Yamapi’s fabulous ass, but, well, you win some you lose some. And Tegomass is doing better than ever—selling out concerts as easy as one, two, three, and Tegoshi knows it’s because of him, not because of the dubious star-power of his now-former bandmate.
Well, because of him and Massu, Tegoshi supposes. They make a good team, despite the fact that Massu seems moments away from strangling him at any given moment.
So yeah, Tegoshi is pretty happy with his life in almost every aspect. Though there is the moderately annoying problem of his love life. It’s not that there isn’t anyone who wants to sleep with Tegoshi, obviously, it’s just that Tegoshi has ridiculously high standards, with good reason.
All Tegoshi wants the best life has to offer, and when he looks at Massu, who is peeling off his concert t-shirt, revealing sweat-slick skin and perfect abdominal muscles, Tegoshi thinks it doesn’t get much better than this.
Tegoshi can’t help but admire the way Massu’s back ripples with every exhale, and the way his ass seems to be made of solid steel, that Tegoshi wants to touch despite the fact that he’s not entirely sure what kind of synthetic fabric Massu’s pants are made out of.
“Stop staring at me,” Massu says, carefully selecting a clean towel from the twelve he has stacked up in front of the mirror on his side of the dressing room. Massu feels the first two then takes the third, bringing it to his nose and smelling it. Then he massages the corner of the fabric carefully between his thumb and index finger, like he’s testing the quality of the terrycloth. He sighs contentedly as it seems to pass whatever bizarre inspection he’s giving it, and then he carefully dries the sweat on his face before moving on to his shoulders. “What’s your deal?”
“I’m not staring,” Tegoshi says, and licks at suddenly dry lips. “I’m admiring.”
“Well, whatever it is, stop it,” Massu says. “It’s creepy.”
“Nothing I do is creepy,” Tegoshi says, and his throat feels scratched, like he’s hoarse. Tegoshi knows he’s just sung for three hours, but he is far too boss for that to be affecting him. His vocal chords are in perfect condition, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to feel any discomfort in his throat… except that Massu is rubbing across his own chest with a towel, flexing for Tegoshi like it’s a private show. “Everything I do is awesome.”
“Okay,” Massu says. “Well I can’t handle all that awesome. Do you think you could direct it… towards the wall, or something?”
“Does it make you uncomfortable, when I look at you like this?” Tegoshi asks, dropping his voice a little lower than usual to see if he can get Massu’s attention. Massu is now rubbing his hands and arms vigorously with hand-sanitizer, and the room smells like citrus and nail polish remover. Not the sexy ambience Tegoshi would prefer, but Massu likes things being clean, so the smell of Rock n Roll and sweat probably wouldn’t work for Massu at all.
That’s fine, Tegoshi can make a few sacrifices in the name of bedding perfection.
“Yes,” Massu says. “I always feel like you’re about to touch my butt.”
“Would you hate that?” Tegoshi asks, grabbing his own towel, pink and oversized and fluffy, from the back of his chair, and drying his own sweat. The towel feels good in his hair, and Tegoshi’s head feels lighter when he drops the towel to the floor in a crumpled heap. Massu hears it, and turns to look at Tegoshi with distaste.
“Yes,” Massu says, but he’s not frowning, which Tegoshi takes as encouragement. “And also, your towel is on the floor. This is shared space. Be neat.”
“Yes sir,” Tegoshi says, and then he pulls his t-shirt over his head, and drops that to the floor too, just to be a bitch.
Massu sighs, and turns back to his own mirror, where he starts using tiny cotton balls to remove the foundation from his face. Tegoshi watches as Massu uses each cotton ball once or twice before dropping the old one in the trash and grabbing a new one. “Our voices sound good together,” Massu says to himself, like it’s a mantra he repeats in the shower, or when he goes to bed, or every single time he remembers that he spends more than three quarters of his life with Tegoshi.
Tegoshi doesn’t think it should really be that big of a hardship. Tegoshi is in physical pain when he’s forced to look at the things Massu wears offstage, but Tegoshi doesn’t have a mantra. Tegoshi just accepts it as a part of Massu that is terrible and moves on.
He mostly moves on because it’s the only terrible part of Massu, and they’ve been on tour for two months, and despite Tegoshi’s repeated overtures, Massu doesn’t seem to have gotten the idea that Tegoshi would totally deign to fuck him.
Which is annoying. And if Tegoshi wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that he is perfect, it might even have stung a little bit.
Luckily, Tegoshi knows his own value. Which is more than everyone else’s.
“Tegoshi. The staring. It has to stop,” Massu says, and he turns to Tegoshi, folding strong arms across his chest.
“What if I don’t want to?” Tegoshi asks.
Perhaps, Tegoshi thinks, it’s time for the direct approach.
“What?” Massu says, and Tegoshi walks over to Massu’s side of the dressing room, stopping next to the counter. He pointedly gets into Massu’s personal space, and Massu’s breath hitches as he presses his back against the counter to put as much space between them as possible.
“I think you like it,” Tegoshi says. “If I’m staring at you, that’s a compliment. I usually only stare at myself.”
“I don’t like it,” Massu says, but there’s a hitch in his voice. Tegoshi grins, and Massu’s eyes widen as he gulps. “Not at all.”
Massu sounds nervous, and Tegoshi seizes that weakness, and presses his advantage. “Hmmm, are you sure?” Tegoshi whispers, and his breath blows on Massu’s cheek, and Massu’s eyes flutter closed.
Now Tegoshi’s mouth doesn’t feel dry at all, and he can taste the sweetness of victory. Tegoshi’s not much for sharing, but he thinks Massu, who’s a reknowned gourmet, might enjoy this particular flavor as much as Tegoshi does.
So Tegoshi presses his mouth to Massu’s, firmly, and Massu flinches, and presses back on Tegoshi’s shoulders, like he wants Tegoshi to stop. Tegoshi leans back. “What?”
“This is so inappropriate, I can’t even,” Massu says, and Tegoshi laughs. “You don’t even know if I like guys.”
“Everyone likes me,” Tegoshi says, because Tegoshi can’t comprehend the idea of someone not liking him. “What’s not to like?”
“You’re kind of unbelievable,” Massu says, and he’s laughing a little. Tegoshi would like to think it’s because he’s shocked by the gift of Tegoshi’s attention.
“I am,” Tegoshi says. “Too good to be true, isn’t it?” Tegoshi leans forward, wanting to set his hands along the curve of Massu’s wide jaw, and let his fingers brush along the backsides of Massu’s ears. But Massu grabs his hands halting them between them.
Tegoshi feels his eyebrow lift in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Your hands… Massu stutters. “They aren’t clean. You’ve touched all the doorknobs and the floor.”
“Oh,” Tegoshi says, and his eyes dart to the counter. He grabs Massu’s hand sanitizer and squirts some onto his hands, wincing at the way it squelches between his fingers. Massu watches him incredulously, and Tegoshi smiles reassuringly, holding up his hands and wriggling them in Massu’s face. “No more excuses,” and then he’s kissing Massu again.
Massu doesn’t kiss him back, at first. Tegoshi guesses he’s still surprised by his good fortune; who wouldn’t be, really. Tegoshi Yuya has got it going on. But then, suddenly, Massu sighs, and his mouth tumbles open, and Tegoshi gleefully slips his tongue into the other man’s mouth, licking at his cheeks and enjoying the way Massu, who tastes like gyoza and soy sauce, trembles just the slightest bit at Tegoshi’s raw sexuality.
“You’re so weird,” Massu mumbles, and Tegoshi smiles, because Massu can say whatever he wants, but Tegoshi is finally getting what he wants.
“You like it,” Tegoshi says, licking a wet stripe along Massu’s neck. He presses his lips to the wet line, leaving tiny kisses, then he blows softly, and Massu shudders. Tegoshi presses closer, and Massu’s hands softly press along Tegoshi’s waist, almost like he’s scared to touch. Tegoshi has no idea why, since Massu doesn’t even know about all they toys waiting for him later in Tegoshi’s secret sex dungeon. “Don’t be afraid--”
“You don’t bite?” Massu finishes for him, and Tegoshi lets his teeth sink into the skin at the crook of Massu’s neck. Massu yelps, but his hips jerk, too, and he’s half-hard in his terrible pants. It makes Tegoshi grin.
“Oh, I do,” Tegoshi says. “But you’ll like that too.”
“Why are you doing this?” Massu asks, as Tegoshi nibbles his way down Massu’s collarbone, and lets his tongue explore the pebbled nipples he finds along his downward trek. Massu’s abs quiver beneath his lips, and Tegoshi likes that, too.
“Because I want the best,” Tegoshi replies, and Massu releases a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“So I’m the best?” Massu asks, like he can’t believe the words coming out of Tegoshi’s mouth.
“No,” Tegoshi says, as he licks circles around Massu’s navel. “I’m the best. But you’re the best I can do outside of myself.” Tegoshi sighs, and Massu blushes as the air caresses wet skin. Tegoshi loves the way that hot flush looks across Massu’s dimpled cheeks. “As much as I like watching myself masturbate in the mirror, at times it does get a bit dull.”
“You don’t say,” Massu replies, and he’s holding onto the counter for dear life.
“I know,” Tegoshi says. “I couldn’t fathom it either.” And Massu snorts, and Tegoshi thinks that if Massu can still make those derisive noises Tegoshi clearly needs to be working harder. “It was lucky for you.”
“Lucky? You molested me!”
Tegoshi presses a palm to Massu’s growing erection and looks him in the eyes. “Are you really complaining?”
Massu’s eyes shift away. He doesn’t say anything. Tegoshi’s okay with that—he likes listening to his own voice more than anyone else’s.
“Of course not,” Tegoshi says, and then he leans in and pulls Massu’s earlobe between his teeth. Massu moans, low and long, and that’s how Tegoshi knows he’s won. “You like this.”
“So you say,” Massu answers, and now his nails are digging into the skin at Tegoshi’s waist. Tegoshi will take that out of his hide later (because he spends a lot of time and effort to have flawless skin, and because sometimes he needs to wear above the navel tube tops, for ~reasons~), but he always saves the kinkier games for later along in a sexual partnership: it’s scared men away before, and Massu is finickier than most.
“You like this,” Tegoshi says again, dropping fully to his knees. Massu gingerly puts his hands on Tegoshi’s shoulders, and Tegoshi leans forward and presses his nose to the bulge in Massu’s shorts.
Tegoshi tugs Massu’s pants down, and Massu only hisses at the air as it meets bare flesh. “Tegoshi,” Massu says, and it sounds almost angry, but when he looks up, Massu’s just staring at him. Tegoshi doesn’t blame Massu; Tegoshi knows he looks good on his knees. He looks good everywhere, but probably especially on his knees.
“So now you don’t mind clothes on the floor,” Tegoshi says, and wraps lips around Massu’s cock.
Those strong fingers of Massu’s, ones that sound good along the keyboard while Tegoshi sings… They twist in Tegoshi’s sweaty hair, and if Tegoshi had known all it would take to get Massu to ease up on the OCD was a good blow-job, ‘Tegomass no Ai’ might have had a different title. Like ‘Tegomass no All-Night-Sex-Party’. Or ‘Tegomass no Sucking-Massu-Off-So-He-Stops-Bitching-About-the-Air-Freshner-Brand’.
Massu lets out a long keening whine as Tegoshi licks around the crown, licking carefully along the slit. He wraps a hand around the base of Massu’s cock, squeezing just enough to hold him still, and presses his other hand against Massu’s pelvic bone to halt the tiny thrusting movements Massu has unconsciously started to perform.
“No rushing me,” Tegoshi says. “An artist like myself needs time to work.”
“Shut up,” Massu says. “And do…something.”
Tegoshi smirks and opens his mouth wide. He lets Massu’s cock slip deep into his throat, and when it hits the back of it, Tegoshi hums, and Massu hiccups in surprise.
“Oh,” Massu says. “Oh.”
Tegoshi brings the hand that lingers at the base of Massu’s dick down to cradle his balls. He softly touches them, and likes the way it makes Massu tremble. “You like this,” Tegoshi murmurs against the wet head, and Massu’s eyes are squeezed closed. “You’d like it more if you watched.”
“Normal people ask people out on dates when they like them,” Massu manages to say around gasps, as Tegoshi teases and taunts with an adventurous tongue.
“I take myself out to dinner all the time,” Tegoshi says. “That’s the person I like best.”
“You’re sick,” Massu says, but he sounds caught between arousal and amusement, and Tegoshi deep-throats him again just to make sure things lean more toward the former, relishing the pulsing throb of Massu's cock as the underside rests flat against his tongue.
Then Massu’s whines come at a quicker pace, and his thighs clench, hips pushing against Tegoshi's hand, and that’s all the warning Tegoshi gets before Massu falls forward and spills into Tegoshi’s mouth. His whole body quakes with it, and that’s when Tegoshi remembers he’s hard, too.
Oh well. Later.
Baby steps, Tegoshi thinks.
“For someone who never eats, you’re awful good at swallowing,” Massu says when he’s caught his breath, and Tegoshi smirks.
"Why do you think I never eat?”
Massu blanches. “Oh, gross.”
“Next time,” Tegoshi says, licking his lips. “Next time I’m going to fuck you. You’ll like that too.”
“Only,” Massu says weakly, like all the fight’s drained out of him with his release, “if you take a shower.” Massu exhales heavily. “And get, like, ten STD tests.” Massu shudders. “A semen-only diet. Gross.”
Tegoshi grins. Now they are talking.
It ends up being a long shower, but Tegoshi blames his animal magnetism.
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