||[Sep. 26th, 2007|01:38 am]
Notes: Subs has recently-ish stopped wearing his blue bracelet. The rest is poetic licence.
Shibutani Subaru never enjoyed sex so much as directly after they’d finished a concert. There was an interval of maybe fifteen minutes when they continued to run on adrenaline and endorphins, and during this short period sex could get its sweatiest and messiest and everything was magical. Missing this window led to slow, unmotivated sex that usually ended with both of them apologising and going to sleep. But getting the timing right resulted in the most wonderful, wonderful sex. And when Yasuda Shota, his guitarist and lover, bounded into his lap the moment he was offstage, Subaru knew he was going to get it.
The costume master seemed to accept that neat hanging-up of clothes was unlikely at the end of a show, and no longer begrudged them for dumping their clothes in a vague pile. Subaru was glad of this – and also that their costumes were designed to get easily out of – because it meant there was one less thing in the way of him and Yasuda. Whether stripping and landing on his back had been one smooth motion, or whether it was just his brain putting things together as one great blur, Subaru couldn’t be sure. However Shota was sitting on top of him now, hair plastered to his face and everywhere throbbing and shining with sweaty lust, and Subaru couldn’t give a damn how it had happened.
Shota began placing feverish kisses along Subaru’s jaw and pulsating carotid. For a moment Subaru did nothing, just let Yasu’s lips arouse him until he was so hard that he had to take action. His hands shot down the guitarist’s corded body, kneading a small firm arse slick with perspiration until Shota decided he was having none of that and dragged Subaru’s narrow wrists up above his head, pinning them there. The singer had decided he didn’t mind a bit of domination, and was now thoroughly looking forward to whatever the younger male had in stock.
Whining petulantly and ceasing all activities to sit upright was certainly not expected. Subaru twitched a little, hoping this was just a bit more teasing, but it soon became obvious that pout wasn’t going to be used on Subaru’s almost painfully erect member. Still, the older male keened a bit and pleaded the other’s name.
“What happened to it?” Shota demanded.
“It’s still there Shota, look behind you!”
Yasuda glanced over his shoulder and snapped his head back immediately with an ever bigger pout.
“I was not talking about your erection.”
“What are you talking about?” Subaru whimpered. The low blood supply to his head was not helping matters.
Yasu responded by picking up Subaru’s wrist and waving it in front of his face. Subaru’s eyes went in and out of focus before he decided to just look imploringly up at Shota until the matter was quickly resolved and they could have sex.
“Your bracelet. Where did it go?”
“Shit.” (More a curse at the lost opportunity for a good bugger than the lost bracelet) “I don’t know Shota...it must have come off during the show.”
“You didn’t take it off?”
“You know I would never do that. Look, if it makes you happy, I’ll buy something new.”
Shota bounded up off Subaru with a look of pure glee.
“...Not now, though! Can we just finish sex now, please?”
But Subaru knew the sex window had already expired, along with all his hopes of a quiet (or even not-so-quiet) evening in bed, doing nothing. Or even lots. Just not out of bed.
“Maybe you could get a necklace next. Although, another bracelet would be nice. I wonder if teichiku have any left? Do you think if we went and looked out on stage we could find it?”
Subaru groaned, rolled over onto his knees and crawled towards the bathroom, almost jealous of how quickly Yasuda had lost interest. Luckily, the others were already out of the showers by the time they got there. Not that the others really would have minded the two being a bit frisky in the showers – hell, they’d all gone through the awkward random erection stage of puberty together, but still. Crawling in on your hand and knees with an erection while your lover skips merrily along beside you extolling the virtues of jewellery was not a becoming look.
The cold tap helped a little with one of his predicaments, but not the other, whom was currently washing his hair and singing about undying love like he hadn’t just blueballed his boyfriend. Subaru grumbled to himself in his best old man way and gradually rose to his feet, the loss of adrenaline/endorphin power exaggerated by the lack of action that might have sustained him a little longer. Shota offered to wash his hair, but it seemed to be on the proviso that he actively participate in a discussion on the meanings of certain shades of blue.
“You know the good thing about red?” Subaru asked when he felt obliged to speak. “No matter what shade it is, it will always mean ‘I love you’.”
Yasu was so moved he couldn’t say anything for the next five blissful minutes.
The others said nothing as Subaru and Shota exited the building, although in cranky old man mood, Subaru interpreted every look as a jeer, and every farewell as a jibe.
Surprisingly enough, there were very few accessory shops open at midnight on a Monday. When they finally did find one, Subaru bought the first big red and blue thing he saw, hoping that size would count for something. Ideally a hand job, but a kiss and a cuddle wouldn’t go astray either.
Subaru tumbled headfirst into bed the moment they got home. Yasu somehow managed to strip him despite Subaru being very uncooperative, and curled up behind him so he could litter scores of suggestive little kisses over the singer’s back. Perhaps Subaru might have been up for closure of their earlier sex fiasco, but he was in such a crotchety mood that he waited until Shota’s erection first brushed his thigh until he said goodnight and rolled over. Shota whimpered, but obviously understood.
“Goodnight, Shibuyan.” Shota whispered, spooning himself around the singer. Subaru grumbled a little but nestled back into the other’s embrace.
As consciousness first started flirting with Subaru the next morning, he shunned it for the wonderful dream he was having. Consciousness, however, seemed rather keen to get in to his head. Subaru pushed it away, and in the resulting struggle with an abstract concept, he had a moment of clarity in which he realised his wet dream wasn’t a dream...it was just wet.
A few seconds later, Shota crawled up from under the covers and grinned at his lover with sticky pink lips.
“Ohayou, Shibuyan.” The young guitarist greeted, wiping a smear of white from his cheek with the back of his hand.
“Warn me next time you do that.” Subaru whined, pouting to hide his smile.
“That wouldn’t be any fun.” Shota countered, stretching his short frame up, over the singer and kissing him lightly.
“What could possibly not be fun about watching you blow me?”
“Sometimes you pull my hair.”
“Sorry, Shochan.” Subaru pulled the younger male in for a kiss, thankful his inherent sweetness overpowered that other taste. After a short while they broke for air, and as they often did, just gazed into each other’s eyes adoringly and gently explored each other’s bodies. As Subaru’s hand travelled down Shota’s arm searching for a hand to hold, he discovered a rather interesting lack of resistance.
“Hey, Shota...” he started innocently, dragging the arm up above the covers, “Where’s your bracelet?”
As was fairly typical when confronted with something he couldn’t immediately understand, Shota started crying. Subaru soothed him, asserting that it was probably still in the bed. This turned out to be true (after all the sheets had been stripped – the search also turned up a missing tube of lubricant and 4 dead batteries that made Shota blush incriminatingly), however the bracelet was no longer in any fit state to be worn. Shota cried some more.
“I guess we’re going to have to go buy a new one.” He lamented, trying desperately to salvage the tattered red cord.
“We will.” Subaru assured him, wrapping his arms around the guitarist and kissing his cheek. “But I think first I’m going to have to have sex with you.”
Shota sniffed and looked at Subaru dubiously.
“Come on.” He enthused. “It’ll make you feel better.”
Yasu’s face cracked into a brilliant smile, like a rainbow after a storm.
They kissed again, atop what little of their bedding remained in place. This, of course, progressed to some petting, which was naturally succeeded by grinding and whispered pleads of ‘harder’, ‘more’, and ‘faster’. Shota let Subaru control the pace. He still felt guilty for the previous night, despite Subaru having already exacted his revenge. Soon he found himself on his back, Subaru straddling him, newly rediscovered lubricant in hand.
Smiling all the while, Subaru laved the clear gel (enriched with guarana to fire up your love life) onto Shota’s erection. They were so well accustomed to each other’s bodies that Subaru needed no preparation. He simply had to rub himself against Yasu’s cock until his body recognised the intrusion and welcomed it in. The singer bobbed a few times to ensure his body really had no protests, then leant forward to kiss Shota.
Yasu spread his legs and crooked his knees, giving him leverage to pound into Subaru. It was a position they’d perfected backstage in one of their impassioned post-concert fucks. True to said fucks being rather short, both boys were finished in a matter of minutes, Shota pulling out as he climaxed so they could both spill on the smooth, easy-to-clean plane of the guitarist’s stomach.
As Subaru did clean it, he mused aloud
“How about we get you a belly ring, Sho?”
Shota was so thrilled at the idea that they started the morning’s events all over again.
Incidentally, when they did make it to the shops (Subaru still reeling from the vast number of orgasms Shota had induced in him), they settled on a small, but intricate sapphire and ruby encrusted belly bar, and Subaru’s brain was still addled enough to pay willingly for it. He was repaid in enough sex to keep him clinically brain dead for three days. Not that he minded. Really.