Mousapelli’s Fanfiction » 26 JE Birthday Kisses, Maybe I Do and Maybe I Don’t

26 JE Birthday Kisses, Maybe I Do and Maybe I Don’t

Title: Kiss Thirteen: Maybe I Do and Maybe I Don’t [Senga/Nikaido]
Rating/Warnings: R and I don’t have any idea how that happened.
Summary: Nikaido wants to practice something new.
AN: for 26 Birthday Kisses, Kiss Thirteen: French Kissing. I blame Rachel, and also, I need a badass Nika icon so I can stop using this Senga one for posts like this.

Kiss Thirteen: Maybe I Do and Maybe I Don’t

“It sounds gross,” Senga announces, crossing his arms.

“That’s what you said about regular kissing.” Nikaido rolls his eyes, bouncing a little so that Senga’s bed bounces too. “And also blowjobs.”

Senga’s cheeks turn red, but he sets his jaw even more stubbornly. Nikaido sighs.

“It’s good practice,” he coaxes, getting his knees underneath him so that he can crawl a few inches closer to Senga. “For girls.”

Nikaido always says that, for girls, and Senga is pretty sure that it’s just something he learned as a phrase from the senpai, “forgirls,” without really learning what it meant. And even if Nikaido does know what girls are and what one ought to practice for them, Senga is even more sure that if a girl ever came near Senga for purposes of any of those things, Nikaido would probably make her explode with his mind.

“Come on,” Nikaido says, voice a low purr, by now leaning close enough that his breath is brushing over Senga’s cheek, and he kisses it quickly when Senga doesn’t turn his face towards Nikaido right away. “I don’t ever ask you to do things that don’t feel good, do I?”

Senga’s cheeks are so red that Nikaido’s lips feel cool, and when he does turn his head to meet Nikaido’s eyes, he feels the blush spread down underneath his collar. “You always want to do weird things,” he mumbles.

“But good things,” Nikaido insists, kissing the corner of Senga’s mouth the same way, quick and testing. He’s got good reason to; Senga doesn’t always say yes, and he isn’t afraid to resort to physical violence as an acceptable answer to Nikaido’s advances.

Today, though, he’s in a mellow enough mood to humor his best friend, and when he doesn’t make any move to shove Nikaido away, Nikaido takes that as permission to press his lips against Senga’s for real, lips warm and a little rough.

Senga isn’t surprised when Nikaido grabs his shoulders and pushes him down onto his back. Nikaido hasn’t made any secret of the fact that he likes being over top of Senga, being able to hold him down and look him over. Senga squirms a little as Nikaido slides over him, tangling their legs, because it is a secret that what he’s most uncomfortable about is the fact that Nikaido’s weight pressing down on him doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

He presses his lips against Nikaido’s again to distract himself from it, and Nikaido makes a pleased noise and works a hand under Senga’s head to adjust the angle. His nails scratching along Senga’s scalp feel good enough that Senga gives a little sigh, and Nikaido takes the opportunity to run his tongue over Senga’s lower lip.

It tickles, and Senga jerks back with a sharp breath, blinking. He licks his lower lip himself to make the tingle of it stop, and his heart speeds up at the way Nikaido’s eyes follow the movement. A wave of panic washes cold through Senga’s chest as Nikaido leans down to capture his mouth again, but Nikaido tightens his hand in Senga’s hair as he licks Senga’s lip slower, more deliberate, making sure that he can’t back away this time.

Senga whines in the back of his throat and wriggles harder, but Nikaido seems to like that, if the sudden fierceness of his kiss is any indication.

And then Nikaido’s tongue is in Senga’s mouth, and it is weird, and it is a little gross, but then Nikaido slides it along the edge of Senga’s tongue, and for some reason doing it that way doesn’t tickle at all. Instead, it sends a shudder down Senga’s spine, and he grabs at Nikaido’s back for support, getting two fistfuls of his T-shirt and twisting his hands tight in it.

As soon as Senga stops thinking about it, it isn’t gross at all.

Nikaido teases Senga’s tongue with darting brushes, licking at the inside of his mouth and moving from one spot to another so that Senga can’t quite catch up, and when he withdraws it, Senga chases it with his own tongue. He’s explored half of Nikaido’s mouth before he realizes that he’s been tricked.

“Hey!” he protests, pinching at Nikaido’s back, but Nikaido just laughs, that infuriating low laugh that always makes Senga shake a little, but when they’re pressed together like this, Nikaido can feel Senga’s shiver and it only makes him laugh harder.

“You like it,” Nikaido says, voice dismissive and confident, and it makes Senga want to argue even though it’s plainly the truth. He doesn’t get a chance, because Nikaido goes right back to kissing him, and Senga realizes suddenly that he’s tugged Nikaido’s shirt up enough that his hands are half on bare skin.

He shoves the fabric out of the way to splay his fingers over the warmth of Nikaido’s back, and when that makes Nikaido groan into his mouth, Senga runs his fingers down the bumps of Nikaido’s spine, teasing at the edge of Nikaido’s jeans, until Nikaido is grinding shamelessly down against him, their erections rubbing together through their jeans. The whole time, Nikaido is still teasing Senga’s tongue with his own, and Senga can barely think for the slick heat of it. He wants that slick heat other places, on his skin, on his cock, but at the same time he wants to do this forever, every nerve in his body thrumming with the slow tease.

It’s Nikaido who snaps first, wrenching his mouth away from Senga and gasping, “Please, Ken-chan,” and it’s from familiarity that Senga knows Nikaido means “Please let me,” rather than asking Senga to do something to him.

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” Senga agrees quickly, not caring at all what Nikaido does so long as it goes on feeling this good. He helps Nikaido strip off both their shirts, then tangles his fingers in Nikaido’s hair and moans shamelessly as Nikaido sucks a trail down along Senga’s neck, over his nipples, lingering around Senga’s navel while he fumbles the zipper of Senga’s jeans open. The first hot, wet stripe of Nikaido’s tongue over Senga’s cock makes Senga wail brokenly, jerking his hips up even though he knows he’s not supposed to. This time Nikaido doesn’t seem to mind, though; if anything he encourages Senga to arch up as he gets his mouth as far down Senga’s cock as he can, sliding hands underneath Senga to squeeze his ass.

Senga can’t tell which of them is making more noise, Nikaido moaning around Senga’s cock or Senga choking out cries in between gasps for air. Senga makes the mistake of leaning up to see, the heat of Nikaido’s eyes even more scorching than the heat of his mouth, and Senga comes hard, fingers curled so tight it has to be painful in Nikaido’s hair.

Nikaido hasn’t made any move to relieve himself by the time Senga’s vision clears, even though he’s so hard that Senga can practically see every detail of his cock outlined underneath his jeans, and he’s so close that he’s shaking. So Senga sits up and shoves Nikaido back this time, blaming his lack of inhibition on the heat still licking at his whole body, and he strips off Nikaido’s jeans like yanking a tablecloth off a table, then goes immediately for what’s left standing.

He’s only done this once before, Nikaido usually the one who begs to do this to him, and Senga doesn’t remember it feeling this good to be on the giving end. But right now, it seems almost better than getting a blowjob, to be the one making Nikaido shake and moan and grab at him, Nikaido’s cock hot and smooth against his tongue. He gets back at Nikaido for earlier by using the same teasing flicks of his tongue that Nikaido used against him earlier, until Nikaido comes undone, practically sobbing Senga’s name.

They curl up together under Senga’s blankets, both of them still shaking a little, Nikaido wrapping his arms tight against Senga’s chest, and Senga smoothing his hair out of his face. Nikaido seems a bit shaken up by the intensity of the whole thing, and Senga can’t say he doesn’t feel the same.

“Why’s it called French kissing?” he asks idly after a bit.

“Dunno,” Nikaido shrugs, pushing up on one elbow to look at Senga’s face, and Senga is relieved to see that Nikaido’s normal grin is back. “Cause I think we do it better.”

And as Nikaido crushes his mouth against Senga’s to demonstrate, Senga would say that he has to agree.