Kis-My-Ft2, Dance With Me

Title: Dance With Me [Kitayama/Senga]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, vampires so some biting
Summary: Kitayama doesn’t understand the fuss about pets until he meets Senga.
AN: Set in the same verse as Properly Socialized, the story where Kitayama and Senga meet, since I wrote a bit of Yokoo picking up Nika for shiritori. Also i should not have stayed up until 3am on a Sunday night to finish this, fml.

Dance With Me

Kitayama never entirely understood the appeal of the pets the others keep. They’re cute enough, sure, and willing, but it seems like an effort to house them and keep them happy. He doesn’t see what the fuss is about when he could stroll outside any night of the week and find somebody just as willing, or even unwilling if that’s the way they want to play it. He gets what he’s after in the end.

And he really doesn’t understand why Fujigaya, who is the laziest vampire in the known universe, keeps two.

Then he meets Senga.

He’s in Nagoya, along on a trip with Takizawa-dono to take care of some business. The local masters have been generous with their entertainments, but after a few days of it Kitayama just wants to be on his own a bit, to breathe some fresh air. He’s new enough to miss the sun on his skin, but the moon will do in a pinch, and he loiters on high rooftops and balconies, where the buildings don’t block so much of it and the wind can ruffle his hair.

One of the balconies he lands on has music thumping, muffled by the glass of the sliding doors, and when Kitayama turns to look, there’s someone inside despite the lateness of the hour. A dance student, from the looks of it, in a well-worn T-shirt and bright blue sweatpants, fashionably bleached hair sticking to his cheeks in sweaty curls. He’s completely absorbed in the roll and pop of his body along with the music, and he doesn’t notice when Kitayama slides the door open and steps inside.

Takizawa’s pets dance, but it’s nothing like this; they have training, while the teenager in front of Kitayama is naturally talented. He makes it look easy, makes Kitayama want to join in and dance with him. He draws closer without meaning to, close enough that even concentration can’t keep him from noticing Kitayama.

“Oh!” he says, body coming to a sudden stop, and Kitayama wants to tell him not to, to keep going. “I’m sorry! I know I’m over my time limit for the room, but I didn’t think anyone else was here so late. Is your turn next?” Kitayama doesn’t answer right away, and he bows, flustered. “I’m really sorry, senpai!”

“Senpai?” Kitayama says, amused. The boy is a bit younger than Kitayama thought at first, now that his features aren’t so serious or his expression so intense. About sixteen maybe, maybe a bit older. Not many people older than that would call Kitayama “senpai” without knowing his real age, though.

“Aren’t you?” The boy starts to look a bit nervous. “I haven’t met you before, but why else would you be here? Only dance students have keys…”

“What’s your name?” Kitayama asks, reaching over to tilt the boy’s chin up so that their eyes meet properly. The boy shivers a little, but doesn’t pull away.

“Senga.” Senga blinks once, slowly. “Senga Kento.”

His voice and gaze are going a bit soft and vague already, Senga apparently particularly susceptible to Kitayama’s control if a direct look is all it takes. Normally Kitayama likes that in a potential snack, preferring not to expend any more energy than he absolutely has to, but in this case, he finds it displeasing. Senga’s energy and intensity from before were much more appealing. He takes a step back, and Senga gives himself a little shake, eyes clearing.

“Much better,” Kitayama says, and Senga’s mouth bunches in a puzzled frown. Adorable. “I’m Kitayama.”

“Kitayama…senpai?” Senga hazards, still confused.

“Kitayama-sama,” Kitayama corrects. There’s a pile of dance mats stacked just to the side; Kitayama sits on them, making his back comfortable against the wall. “Kento, hm? I was enjoying watching you, actually. Would you dance for me, Kento?”

“Sure?” Senga turns and takes a step towards the boom box, but then pauses and looks back. “Only…”

“Something wrong?” Kitayama is a bit surprised to not have his request obeyed without question. That rarely happens, since Takizawa taught him to control his powers.

“Mm, no, but,” Senga looks Kitayama over, like he’s double-checking, “you seem more like you maybe want to join in?” Senga smiles, warm and inviting, and it makes what used to be Kitayama’s heart flop in his chest. Senga holds out a hand in invitation. “Want to dance with me?”

It’s like Senga has a power of his own, even though Kitayama knows that he’d feel it if Senga really did, because Kitayama finds himself on his feet and reaching for Senga’s hand before he realizes what he’s doing. Senga’s grin ups in wattage until his eyes scrunch cutely. He gives Kitayama’s hand a quick squeeze and orders him to stay there a moment.

Kitayama obeys. This kid is something interesting, all right.

The track Senga sets the cd to is a little slower than the one he was pop-and-locking to before, the beat more deliberate and making the floor thump under Kitayama’s feet. Senga is already swinging his hips to it by the time he comes back across the room, as if he can’t keep still. Kitayama starts to move along with him, letting his body do as it wills, relaxing into it.

“You do dance!” Senga says, delighted, and Kitayama nods. He used to, anyway, before; nothing special but enough to keep himself entertained at clubs. It feels better than he remembers even, to give himself over to the music and enjoy himself. He can feel Senga’s eyes on him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Senga but not quite close enough to touch, and it makes prickles of anticipation run over his skin.

Senga is easy to read, and Kitayama isn’t surprised at all when Senga reaches for Kitayama’s hands and places them squarely on his own hips. Kitayama draws them closer together, drawing in a slow breath as Senga wraps arms around his neck. Senga’s skin smells like sweat and effort, and tastes like salt when Kitayama gives his shoulder a testing lick.

“Hey,” Senga says, but he’s running his fingers through the ends of Kitayama’s hair, brushing the back of Kitayama’s neck.

“You taste good,” Kitayama says. He licks at Senga’s skin more deliberately, and Senga giggles and squirms cutely.

“You’re weird,” Senga announces. Then he gives a slow roll of his hips whose meaning is entirely clear.

“Are you this nice to all the senpai?” Kitayama asks, bemused in spite of himself. He’s all for easy prey, but this is a little ridiculous.

“I usually make them treat me first,” Senga says carelessly, “but I really like the way you dance, so I’ll make an exception.” He pulls Kitayama’s face close enough to kiss, his lips warm and a little rough where they slide over Kitayama’s. His mouth opens under Kitayama’s at the slightest encouragement, flicking his tongue against Kitayama’s bottom lip teasingly.

Kitayama yanks them flush together and gasps into Senga’s mouth at how hot Senga’s skin feels against his. He remembers being warm himself suddenly, being alive, no idea how he could have ever forgotten. He wants more of Senga, wants all of his skin, and before he realizes he’s squeezing Senga against him tight enough to make Senga grunt.

“Mmm, strong,” Senga murmurs, apparently not caring that he’d have some cracked ribs if Kitayama hadn’t caught himself. His eyes are heavy-lidded and dark already, arms tight around Kitayama’s neck, and Kitayama wants him.

They’re on top of the dance mats before Senga can draw another breath, and if Senga sees anything weird about Kitayama’s speed he apparently doesn’t care. Kitayama has to pry him loose to get his shirt off, and he wouldn’t make the effort except Senga’s skin feels amazing under his hands, hot and already sweat-slick. The pants are drawstring and not nearly so difficult.

“Hey,” Senga stretches just enough to show off a flat stomach and a trail of hair that Kitayama has every intention of following, “you too, yo.”

Kitayama blinks, then laughs when he realizes he’s still fully dressed, not so much as a button undone. Senga arches the tiniest bit, like he can feel Kitayama’s laugh against his skin.

“Hurry up,” Senga commands, and Kitayama’s naked roughly three tenths of a second later, draping himself over Senga’s body and fitting neatly between Senga’s legs. Both of them are already hard, and Senga gives a delicious whimper when Kitayama’s cock brushes alongside his.

“Shit,” Kitayama groans as Senga’s skin makes him feel like he’s on fire everywhere they touch. He licks at the hollow of Senga’s throat, Senga’s pulse thumping just under his skin like the music is thumping under the floor. Senga’s whine makes Kitayama shiver even before Senga’s hands find their way back into his hair.

Senga yanks, and that’s the end of Kitayama’s control. He bites down in the curve of Senga’s shoulder, fangs sliding easily into Senga’s skin. Dimly he feels Senga shudder and spill between their stomachs, but it’s nothing compared to the rush of Senga’s blood as he gets his first real taste.

It’s like fire rushing through his veins, heating Kitayama all the way out to his toes and fingertips, like Kitayama is lying naked in the sun, its rays sinking into every cell in his body. It’s nearly too much, and Kitayama forces himself to stop after only a few seconds, head spinning as he lifts it.

It takes a minute for Senga to stir, but even in near-unconsciousness his arms are still tight around Kitayama’s neck, Senga’s fingers twisted in his hair.

“Shit, you didn’t even fuck me yet,” he murmurs, voice groggy and rough. “Embarrassing.”

“Do you want me to?” Kitayama feels high and is suddenly fascinated with the texture of Senga’s sweat-damp curls between his fingertips. He’s definitely going to, but he likes Senga’s voice and he certainly isn’t going to object to Senga using it to say that he wants him.

“A’course.” Senga arches a little when Kitayama’s fingers trail down the sides of his face, outlining Senga’s sharp cheekbones. Senga turns his head to rub his cheek against Kitayama’s palm. “Please, Kitayama-sama?”

Kitayama works his way down Senga’s body with his mouth, pleased to find Senga tastes just as good the whole way down. He wouldn’t do it for just anybody, but the skin on the inside of Senga’s thighs is so warm and soft, and Senga whimpers so sweetly when he gets close, that Kitayama goes for it. The first lick to Senga’s hole makes Senga squeak and grab for Kitayama’s hair, and when Kitayama works the tip of his tongue in, Senga wails loud enough to tell the whole building what he thinks of Kitayama’s mouth.

“I take it you like that?” Kitayama pulls back far enough to say. But then he goes right back to lapping at Senga’s rim, and Senga’s response is garbled. He fucks Senga open with his tongue until Senga pleads breathlessly for more, and then starts adding fingers.

He gets impatient fast, but the venom from his first bite means Senga pushes down against him with abandon, equally impatient. By the time he starts to crawl up Senga’s body, Senga is all but dragging him up into his arms, wrapping legs around Kitayama’s waist to rub against him desperately.

“Not helpful,” Kitayama growls, using one hand to hold Senga’s hips down, and the other to line himself up against Senga’s hole. When he pushes the tip inside, both of them groan in relief.

“More,” Senga sighs, rocking up against Kitayama, taking him deeper. Kitayama plants his knees and gives it to Senga harder, gives him exactly what he’s begging for. Senga’s heat wrapped around his cock is scorching, so good, but it’s not enough for Kitayama either.

He whines in protest when Kitayama pulls out, but Kitayama ignores it and rolls him over with impatient hands. Senga gets the idea right away, though, and is up on his hands and knees before Kitayama even has to ask for it. Gripping the base of his cock, Kitayama pushes back inside Senga, then drapes himself over Senga’s back.

“Yessss,” he hisses in Senga’s ear, the increased skin contact what he was after. Now he can feel Senga’s shivers all along his chest and stomach, feel it when Senga groans his name and begs to be touched. He presses his mouth to the curve of Senga’s shoulder and lets his fangs barely graze Senga’s skin, making Senga cry out underneath him.

Kitayama reaches around and slides a hand down Senga’s stomach until he finds Senga’s cock, hard and leaking. Senga moans brokenly when Kitayama starts to jerk him off in time with his thrusts, right on the edge of orgasm but struggling to hold back, to keep going for just a bit longer.

“Come for me,” Kitayama orders, and Senga does practically before he’s done saying the words, spilling over Kitayama’s fist and his own stomach. Kitayama groans as Senga squeezes tight around him. He gives in to his own release a few thrusts later, Senga still shivering with aftershocks around him and crying out weakly as Kitayama pulses inside him.

Senga’s knees give out, dumping them onto their sides in a sprawl, but limbs still tangled tightly together. That’s when Kitayama bites down again, Senga’s blood sweet with endorphins, Senga’s soft moan even sweeter.

Just like before, Kitayama doesn’t drink deeply enough to knock Senga out. It’s strange; usually he isn’t much for foreplay, anxious to get to the part where his prey isn’t so much work and he can just take what he wants. But Senga is different, somehow, more pleasing conscious, moving against Kitayama and moaning his name in that soft, sweet voice.

He draws it out most of the night before Senga finally passes out, going several more times. It isn’t until Senga is dead weight against his chest that Kitayama realizes with a start that if he doesn’t get moving, he’ll be caught out during the day. Stupid, he curses himself, you stupid, stupid rookie.

He’s got his pants on and is halfway out the balcony door before he looks back at Senga curled up naked on the mats. Senga snuffles cutely in his sleep, fingers curling and uncurling, and Kitayama thinks fuck it. He has enough sense to scoop up Senga’s discarded clothing and throw it into Senga’s bag before slinging it over his shoulder, so people at his school won’t wonder where he’s gone off to butt naked in the middle of the night. Then he’s out the door and away, Senga limp in his arms.

Kitayama makes it back safely, just barely, just enough time to dump Senga into his bed and crawl in after him. He probably should have warned the kid that when he wakes up Kitayama won’t have a pulse, but too late for that now. Senga makes an awesome heated body pillow, is Kitayama’s last thought before the sun slips over the horizon and he passes out cold.

When he wakes up, Senga is still curled up beside him, bed-headed and disgustingly awake.

“Morning!” Senga chirps. “Or evening? You snore. Cute~.”

“Shut up.” Kitayama rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillow. Then he turns it back just enough to look Senga over with one eye. “You’re still here.”

“It’s not like I could go anywhere when I don’t know where you took me,” Senga points out. He draws up his knees to wrap arms around them, then scrunches his toes against the sheets. “Some other guys came by and took me to get food and a bath. They said they were pets. Am I your pet now?”

“That’s not really how it works.” Kitayama rolls onto his side to face Senga fully, and does not at all mention that to be honest, he’s not entirely sure how it does work. He doesn’t miss the flash of disappointment on Senga’s face, though. “Would you like to be?”

“I dunno,” Senga says shyly, ducking his head a little. His eyes are roaming over Kitayama’s skin where it’s not covered by the blanket, and it isn’t terribly subtle. “I don’t even know what a pet does.”

“Takizawa-dono’s pets dance,” Kitayama says, chuckling when Senga’s face lights up.

“Aha,” Takizawa’s voice comes from the doorway, making both of them look up in surprise. “So Fumito was telling the truth, for once. Had a busy night last night, did we, Hiromitsu?” He raises an eyebrow, face pleasant enough but eyes saying he knows what time Kitayama dragged himself back in.

“Er,” Kitayama answers, wondering if pulling the covers over his head is an option.

“Eloquent.” Takizawa crosses the room and reaches down to tilt Senga’s chin up. “But at least you have more taste than good sense. And your name is?”

“Senga Kento,” Senga answers, voice going vague, and Kitayama has to swallow the impulse to pull him back from Takizawa’s reach. But then Senga asks, “Is it true your pets dance?”

Takizawa laughs suddenly and drops his hand. “Yes, they do, and quite a few other tricks besides. Since they seem to have introduced themselves to you, I’m surprised they didn’t show you any of them. Usually that’s how they say hello.”

Kitayama’s growl makes Senga start and look down at him, uncertain. “They didn’t do anything to me, though…”

“Good,” Kitayama says gruffly, surprised by his own vehemence.

“Well then, I’ll be sure you all are introduced properly when you come down for dinner,” Takizawa eyes Kitayama, “assuming the pair of you can be trusted to dress yourselves?”

“I’m sure we can manage, Tono.”

“Do try not to get too distracted,” Takizawa says dryly, but then mercifully leaves them to it. Kitayama heaves a soft sigh when Takizawa shuts the door behind him, a relief not to have the older vampire’s power pressing down directly on his own.

“Can I really stay?” Senga asks, drawing Kitayama’s attention back to him. “With you?”

Kitayama tugs him down, back under the blanket, and rolls on top of him to kiss him good morning instead of giving him an answer. Despite his promise of ten seconds ago, Senga is nothing but distraction, clinging and cooperative and so warm that Kitayama wants to crawl inside him and nap forever.

They’ll crawl out of bed eventually, though; Kitayama has a couple really important questions to ask Takizawa-dono.