Kis-My-Ft2, Everyday Everynight Everytime

Title: Everyday Everynight Everytime [Tamamori/Miyata, Kame/Kis-My-Ft2]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for vampire!Kame having his pets do tricks for him.
Summary: Kamenashi likes his pets a little weirder than most, and Tamamori is a perfect example.
AN: sequel to Lost My Way in You by yeska_noka, and same as that fic, based on Kame’s solo Lost My Way, where he’s a vampire feeding on all of kisumai and is at least a hundred times hotter than it has any business being. She made me promise to do the Tama/Miya since she did the NiSen.

Everyday Everynight Everytime

Tamamori, Miyata’s pretty sure, was probably weird even before he became one of Kamenashi’s pets. It doesn’t surprise Miyata; after all none of them were terribly normal to start with, that’s not how you end up being a vampire’s pet in the first place, although Kamenashi does seem to pick them further out in left field than most.

Take Yokoo for instance, who constantly is straightening up after the rest of them like he can’t help himself, even though the manor’s filled with servants to do that. Or Nikaido, who is nearing twenty but still acts exactly as bratty as he did the day years ago when Kamenashi brought him home. Or so Fujigaya says, since he would know.

Even among the seven of them, though, Tamamori is a special case. The constant push-pull of addiction makes all of them vague and soft-edged over time, like stones being worn round by the ocean, but Tamamori daydream expression seems to have become set permanently on his pretty features. He doesn’t walk through the manor so much as he drifts, offering the occasional word of greeting just as commonly to furniture or houseplants as he does to the other pets.

Miyata is thinking on this, as much as any of them think on anything, as he sits in the garden, stretched out on the soft grass, the tree at his back shading him with a perfect scatter of sunlight between the leaves to keep the soft breeze from being too cool. He’s got a book on his lap; few of them have the attention span anymore to read, but Miyata still enjoys it. He isn’t looking at the book, though; instead he’s watching Tamamori drifting through the garden, trailing his fingers through the stalks of the taller flowers with his mouth a little wrinkled, like he’s puzzled by how they feel.

Miyata winces when Tamamori gets to the roses.

“Tama-chan!” he calls when the breeze carries Tamamori’s little cry of displeasure over to him. Lifting his head at the sound of his name, Tamamori’s expression clears to surprised pleasure when he spots Miyata, and he leaves off the flowers to trot towards him.

He drops to the ground next to Miyata in an artless sprawl of his long limbs, all the prettier for its lack of art, close enough that when he’s settled properly their shoulders brush.

“It bit me,” Tamamori complains, holding up his finger.

There’s a small drop of blood welling there; Miyata leans over to take just the tip of Tamamori’s finger into his mouth and sucks the blood away. Both of them shiver at the way the act reminds their bodies of the way Kamenashi possesses them, and Tamamori’s eyes are dark and fully focused for once when his gaze meets Miyata’s.

“All better,” Miyata says as he pulls away, voice a little hoarse. After a few blinks, Tamamori’s eyes cloud back over with their usual vagueness, and he cuddles up closer to Miyata’s side.

“Read to me,” he commands lazily, looping an arm around Miyata’s waist and pillowing his cheek on Miyata’s shoulder.

Miyata doesn’t mind spoiling him, and picks up reading at a random spot on the page, knowing Tamamori won’t care that he’s starting in the middle of a story and that Tamamori will likely doze off before he’s read more than half-a-dozen pages.

“Mm, Miyacchi’s voice is nice,” Tamamori comments eventually.

“Still awake?” Miyata chuckles as he turns a page. “Tama-chan’s energetic today.”

It doesn’t last long; after another minute or two, Tamamori casually knocks the book out of Miyata’s hands and tugs him down into the grass. Miyata leans over him, bracing himself on his elbows just out of Tamamori’s reach. He grins when Tamamori whines and tries to pull him down for a kiss, holds out until Tamamori’s eyes flash in annoyance and he gives a serious yank, then gives in suddenly so that he lands heavily on Tamamori, making them both grunt.

It’s just then that they both feel the pull, sudden enough that Tamamori bolts upright, knocking his head against Miyata’s, not that either one of them cares. They barely feel the sting of it, underneath the summons that washes hot through their blood.

Kamenashi’s back, and Tamamori yanks Miyata to his feet by the wrist and pulls him along, both of their heads empty of everything but answering their master’s call.

When they arrive inside, they don’t have any trouble finding Kamenashi despite the dozens of rooms the manor has. Kamenashi’s desire pulls them as surely as if he had them on a leash, collars tight around their neck.

A flicker of amusement warms Miyata’s mind; Kamenashi must have liked that thought.

They aren’t in the master bedroom this time. Instead, it’s one of the parlors, Kamenashi draped across the plush couch, the other pets scattered about the thick, soft carpet. Kamenashi’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes bright, signs of recent feeding, and the unconscious sprawl of Kitayama on the floor at Kamenashi’s feet says he must have been the one taken.

“Wait there,” Kamenashi says, sparing the pair of them a glance, making them halt in their tracks just inside the door. Tamamori whines and leans forward like a flower stretching for sun, but can’t disobey. His fingers tighten around Miyata’s wrist in frustration until they’re sure to leave bruises.

It won’t matter; their master’s venom will smooth them away soon enough.

“Patience,” Kamenashi tells them. “It isn’t your turn yet.”

It’s then that Miyata takes notice of the other pets. Senga is stretched out on his stomach beside Kamenashi on the couch, mouth stretched wide around Kamenashi’s cock, Kamenashi’s fingers stroking through his hair as Senga’s head bobs slowly up and down. The other three are in a tangle on the floor, Nikaido draped over Yokoo’s back and thrusting roughly while Fujigaya kneels to take Yokoo’s mouth not any more gently.

Kamenashi’s approval and desire, banked low and steady for the moment, heats Miyata’s blood. This is the other reason Kamenashi keeps so many pets, and encourages them to please each other in his absence: he likes to watch them, once he’s been satiated himself, and with seven of them, there’s always a new combination to enjoy.

Yokoo moans loudly around Fujigaya’s cock, and Nikaido cries out himself and goes limps against Yokoo’s back, shoulders shaking. Miyata feels an echo of it through their shared connection and whines himself, his own cock hard and aching. Kamenashi told them not to go anywhere, but…Miyata tugs Tamamori closer and rubs himself against Tamamori’s hip, making Tamamori groan too.

The chuckle Kamenashi gives rubs against Miyata’s skin the same way, Kamenashi amused by what tiny rebellions they sometimes manage. “Touch him, if you like, but no more than that. I’ll be displeased if you get carried away.”

At Kamenashi’s permission, Tamamori shifts over so that his ass is rubbing directly against Miyata’s cock. Gasping, Miyata grabs him tight around the waist and struggles to keep control of himself, skin tight with need. He can’t manage to still his hips entirely, but he does slow them enough that Tamamori whines in complaint.

“He said you could touch me,” Tamamori wheedles, voice thin, but even through the fog of desire and craving, Miyata knows better than that. Tamamori is easy at the best of times; with their master so close and Fujigaya rolling Yokoo over to take Nikaido’s place, it might only take a touch to push Tamamori over the edge. If he makes Tamamori come before they have their master’s full attention, they’ll both be punished.

“Please,” Yokoo is gasping as Fujigaya drives into him, Fujigaya’s head tilted up and eyes closed like he’s in a trance. Nikaido is stretched out beside him, flushed and low-lidded from his own release, pinching Yokoo’s nipple with a casual hand and eyeing the way Yokoo writhes. When one nipple is drawn tight and pebbled, he moves to the other and then back again.

“Taisuke,” Kamenashi orders, and at the sound of his name, Fujigaya’s back draws tight like a bow. He comes with a piercing keen and then collapses to the side of Yokoo, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving. Yokoo looks much the same, desperate and panting himself, scrabbling at Nikaido to try and shove Nikaido’s hand towards Yokoo’s cock, drawn tight and leaking against his stomach.

Tamamori gives another whine, no words, but Miyata understands that he’s pleading for Kamenashi’s attention, for it to be their turn. When they get it, the full force of Kamenashi’s piercing eyes, like he can see right through them, makes Miyata press tight against Tamamori’s ass and moan brokenly.

“Give me something good to watch,” Kamenashi says, and it only takes the slightest shrug of his shoulders towards Yokoo to send both Miyata and Tamamori to the carpet on their knees, crawling towards the other pet.

Yokoo moans and gropes for them desperately as soon as they’re within reach. He gets Tamamori by the hair and drags him up for a kiss that is all teeth and tongue, Tamamori grinding against Yokoo’s thigh and trying to yank off his clothes with one hand. Miyata settles between Yokoo’s legs, but a glance tells him that if he so much as breathes heavily on Yokoo’s cock, it’ll be all over.

That won’t be nearly enough of a show for their master.

Sinking lower and wrapping his arms underneath Yokoo’s thighs, Miyata licks a stripe along the crease of Yokoo’s ass. Yokoo cries out against Tamamori’s mouth and arches towards Miyata’s tongue, and burst of interest from Kamenashi floods Miyata’s veins, and Tamamori and Yokoo’s too from the sound of it. Miyata knows he’s blocking all the good parts, but Kamenashi will see what he sees and feel what he feels. When Miyata tongues at the soft, stretched skin around Yokoo’s hole and tastes both Fujigaya and Nikaido, he knows that Kamenashi can taste all of them as well.

“Please!” Yokoo begs, driven past all reason and thrashing against Tamamori and Miyata. “Master, please!”

“Yessss,” Kamenashi hisses, and Miyata nearly comes himself, feeling Senga’s mouth on Kamenashi’s cock, Fujigaya and Nikaido’s still-oversensitive skin against the carpet, Tamamori and Yokoo’s hands on each other, desperate for release, even his own mouth as Yokoo feels it, wet and hot and licking inside of him, but still not deep enough, not close enough to finish it.

Clumsy with need, it takes Miyata a couple tries to unclench his hand from Yokoo’s skin and wrap it instead around Yokoo’s cock. He finds Tamamori’s hand already there, fingers trembling under his as they struggle to find a rhythm while Yokoo bucks wildly underneath them. Miyata squeezes tighter, wraps his fingers through Tamamori’s to pump Yokoo.

Kamenashi hums Yokoo’s name in approval, and just like Fujigaya before him, Kamenashi’s call is all it takes for Yokoo to finally spend himself, streaking his stomach and Miyata and Tamamori’s fingers with white. He goes limp immediately after, unconscious like Kitayama, who still hasn’t stirred.

“Very nice,” Kamenashi purrs, and Miyata rolls onto his side to see Kamenashi watching them with eyes darkened to pure black. Senga is watching them as well, eyes wide and lust-glazed, even as he continues to suck their master’s cock. The fall shut when Kamenashi tightens his grip in Senga’s hair to pull him off, Senga’s mouth releasing the head of Kamenashi’s cock with a wet pop.

He squeaks in surprise when Kamenashi gives him a casual shove, his inhuman strength sending Senga right over the edge of the couch. Senga grunts as he lands in a tangle with Kitayama, but sits back up right away, licking his lips, chasing Kamenashi’s taste. Kitayama shifts a little, brow furrowing, but aside from his instinctive curl towards Senga’s considerable bodyheat, he’s still dead to the world. Kamenashi must have drunk deeply from him.

Miyata wants that, he wants, and he’s turning towards Kamenashi before he realizes what he’s doing, but he’s barely shifted his weight to crawl when Kamenashi stops him with a glance.

“Forgetting something?” Kamenashi inquires with a soft tsk. “And usually you and Yuuta are so close…”

There’s a tease to the words, but Miyata’s too far gone to get it. As it is, he blinks slowly before looking over his shoulder, back at Tamamori. Tamamori isn’t looking at him either, his gaze is focused past Miyata on Kamenashi, but on the other hand, Tamamori’s legs are spread and he’s got two fingers inside himself, stretching himself out with Yokoo’s release as makeshift lubricant, and even so it’s not that Tamamori is preparing himself so much as desperate to feel more of something, anything.

“Take him,” Kamenashi orders, tugging Senga off Kitayama and onto his hands and knees facing Miyata, obviously meaning to have Senga himself while he watches. “Hurry up, I’m not feeling very patient, Toshiya.”

Miyata shudders silently, and then reaches to catch Tamamori by the ankle, to drag him closer. Tamamori whines at the brushburn of his bare ass along the carpet, and again at the shirt blocking Miyata’s skin from his hands. Miyata yanks it off while Tamamori fumbles with his pants, and they can’t get rid of them fast enough, Miyata settling in between Tamamori’s legs to follow their master’s orders.

“Do it,” Kamenashi orders again, his powers putting an irresistible command behind the words this time, and Miyata does it, forcing his way deep into Tamamori. Tamamori’s cry is of relief, though, however shrill it is, and from the side Miyata hears Senga give an answering cry.

Kamenashi doesn’t give any more orders out loud, doesn’t have to; instead Miyata can feel what Kamenashi wants just as Kamenashi feels it, knows without being told that he should hook Tamamori’s long legs over his shoulders and bear down until Tamamori’s almost folded double. Tamamori moans encouragement, grabbing for Miyata’s arms and sinking his fingers into Miyata’s skin, presses up to meet Miyata’s thrusts as much as he can in their position.

You should talk, Miyata hears like it’s his own thought, and so he does, lets all the words spill out that Tamamori tells him he’s an idiot for during that day. He tells Tamamori that he’s beautiful, so perfect sprawled out under him, so hot and tight and exactly what Miyata wants, exactly how he wants him.

It makes Tamamori groan in mingled embarrassment and desire, makes him toss his head and squeeze his eyes shut, turns his cheeks bright pink.

“Shut up, don’t stop,” Tamamori chants in single breaths like it’s all one command, “shut up, don’t stop, shut up, don’t stop…”

Their master’s already close, and no wonder given how long Senga’d been working him over with his sweet, talented mouth, and so they’re just as close. Miyata thrusts harder, deeper, and Tamamori wails in response, hands sliding back to Miyata’s ass and tugging at Miyata, trying to drag him even closer.

Make him come without touching him, Miyata hears, and it ought to be hard but isn’t at all since Kamenashi is so close and Miyata knows Tamamori so well. All it takes is Miyata shifting his weight to change the angle, letting one of Tamamori’s legs slip off his shoulder so Miyata can just him just that much on his side. Tamamori’s moans cut off in choked surprise, and all it takes is handful more thrusts just like that to push Tamamori over the edge.

It’s only a heartbeat later that Kamenashi comes, dragging Miyata along in his wake like being knocked down and dragged under by the tide, a riptide Miyata has no chance of escaping. Distantly he feels the burst of pleasure as Kamenashi sinks teeth into Senga at the height of his pleasure, spasms as if its him being fed on and feels Tamamori twitch against him as well before his body can’t take anymore and everything goes dark.

“Too heavy,” Tamamori complains eventually, his voice coming to Miyata’s brain distant and vaguely distorted, like through water. Miyata tries to shift his weight to the side and finds he can’t. “Stupid, don’t move.”

“So weird,” Miyata grumbles, but in his usual pleased way that makes Tamamori snort at him.

He can open his eyes, though, and he finds them all in the usual state of disarray. This time it’s Yokoo who’s disappeared along with Kamenashi; Fujigaya, hair sticking up wildly in the back, is trying to roll Kitayama onto the couch and bitching at Nikaido to help, and Nikaido is summarily ignoring him while he tries to coax Senga back to consciousness. Kitayama, half-awake and obviously displeased about it, tells both of them to shut up for fuck’s sake.

Perfectly content where he is, Miyata lets his eyes fall shut again. He gives a soft moan when Tamamori’s fingers find their way into his hair, everything still feeling surreally good.

“I left the book outside,” Miyata remembers for no reason.

“You can use another one,” Tamamori says carelessly. “I remember what page we were on.”

Miyata starts to laugh and doesn’t stop even when makes his muscles ache, pleasure and satisfaction still chasing through his veins, glad that Kamenashi likes his pets so strange.