Pairing: Yabu Kota/Okamoto Keito
Summary: Everywhere his skin touched Yabu’s it burned. Keito’s hand wrapped firmly around Yabu’s wrist, leading the other boy through the maze of office doors until he finally found an unlocked room, pulling the both of them into the darkened room.
Notes: I've been staring at the submit button for well over 15 minutes trying to muster up the courage to post this thing. I don't even know where the idea came from. Please have mercy on my soul.
Everywhere his skin touched Yabu’s it burned. Keito’s hand wrapped firmly around Yabu’s wrist, leading the other boy through the maze of office doors until he finally found an unlocked room, pulling the both of them into the darkened room.
“That bad?” Yabu purred.
“Very,” Keito said, eyes shinning. He fisted Yabu’s jacket, pulling the taller boy down so he kiss him properly.
It hadn’t been fair, how tantalizing Yabu’s hips were during their new choreography. How they swung from side to side, feet stomping to the rhythm of the beat, sweatpants barely hanging onto those dangerous hips. The fans go crazy over Yamada, but those girls should really watch out for Yabu, especially with how his hips roll over and over, the movements going straight to Keito’s crotch.
It had been hard sitting their, watching the choreographer work with them in small groups to break down the movements while giving the others a small break. If they had been alone, far away from the prying eyes of the members, Keito wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back. So he settled for watching, covering himself with a sweatshirt in case he started tenting his own pants.
He grabbed Yabu once they were dismissed for the day, hardly letting the other boy so much as think as he pulled him from the practice rooms to find a secluded place to play.
Yabu’s lips were rough against his own, chaffed from the cold winter weather that permeated the outside air, but his taste still pushed through, intoxicating with every swallow. He could never get enough of Yabu, no matter how many times they found themselves together. It was never enough.
“Please,” he moaned, grinding their crotches together.
Keito loved the way Yabu gasped, reaching out for him to have some semblance of reality to cling to. His eyes were spinning in his head, trying to calculate his next move.
“Not here,” Yabu said.
“Something quick then,” Keito said, backing them up until his ass hit whosever desk filled the space. “Just enough to keep me sane until we get back to your place.”
“I’ve never seen you be assertive,” Yabu hummed, fingertips brushing over Keito’s erection, earning a long, hearty moan from him. “It’s quite the turn on.”
The minute Yabu’s hands palmed him, adding just the right amount of pressure, Keito’s resolve melted in a moment. There was just something about the way that Yabu put a hand on him that drove him crazy, made him look forward to the moments that would follow. He wanted Yabu’s mouth all over him, swallowing him into that sweet, sweet heat of his mouth, but he couldn’t get greedy, not quite yet.
“More,” Keito moaned. He wrapped his arms around Yabu’s neck. He needed something to hold onto for everything that would follow.
“You should be more patient.” His voice was breathy in Keito’s ear, driving him to the point of insanity as those long, long fingers rubbed circles over his bulge. “Good things come to those that wait.”
He couldn’t help but whimper and grasp more firmly onto Yabu’s neck.
“I can’t blame you, though,” Yabu continued.
The pressure was gone for a moment only for Keito to hiss as Yabu snaked his hand into Keito’s sweats to pull his erection free. He took his time, sliding his hands up and down a few times as if to test the waters.
Keito’s breath was stolen from his lungs. He could hardly focus on anything except the pure pleasure he was receiving, how Yabu’s hand is the only thing in his world. When his thumb reached down, brushing over the tip, Keito could hardly keep his moans contained in his lips.
“I could see you watching me,” Yabu whispered, his lips peppering Keito’s neck with kisses. “You looked like you were ready to pounce at any moment and swallow me whole.”
“Have you seen yourself?” Keito stuttered. He was struggling to form coherent thoughts the faster Yabu’s hand went.
“I’m not anything special,” Yabu ran a thumb on the underside of Keito’s cock, making his knees weak. “You should look in the mirror sometime.”
He didn’t need to look in the mirror to know how he looked, hair soaked with sweat after a long day of dance practice, ratty sweatpants and a t-shirt on. He was far from the pristine idol image he put forth for the public. If the fans could only see him now, losing his mind with his band mate jacking him off to the music of their own labored breathing, hips pushing desperately into Yabu’s touch. He could only imagine their reactions.
He tries to answer, to tell Yabu that he’s wrong. He’s far from being beautiful like Yamada or Yuto. But he can feel it, the pressuring growing in his stomach, knots twisting the faster Yabu strokes, adding a little twist with every other breath that has him grasping at Yabu’s jacket to keep him sane.
Keito tried to choke out a warning, something, anything, but his mouth won’t let him form proper Japanese anymore. He gasped, hips buckling, and he’s coming into Yabu’s hand.
He doesn’t move, body revealing in the aftermath as Yabu cleans up the mess he can with some tissues from whoever’s desk he’s leaning on. Keito pulled him in for a soft, chaste kiss, arms wrapping once more around Yabu’s neck, and he can feel his boyfriend smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Maybe I need to dance with my hips more often if I get this kind of reaction from you,” Yabu laughed. He offered a hand out to Keito. “Let’s get out of here before Julie gets back. I don’t think she’d like to find us in her office.”
“Ah, oh, yeah,” Keito said, taking it.
They had dodged a bullet that she hadn’t come back in the middle of their fooling around. Next time he’d check the door before barging in. Or at least try and wait until they arrived back at Yabu’s.