Kis-My-Ft2, Delay of Game

Title: Delay of Game [Yokoo/Fujigaya]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: “Save it for later,” Yokoo advises, and Fujigaya whines at him.
AN: Written for Shiritori.

Delay of Game

“Save it for later,” Yokoo advises, and Fujigaya whines at him. Later means after meetings and practice and photoshoot, so much later, and Fujigaya feels dead on his feet from filming. Later he will be probably good for nothing, except for face-planting in Yokoo’s bed, just like the last half a dozen times he’s tried to sleep over recently.

Right now he’s just had a very large coffee and is practically buzzing from it, and if it’s maybe a bit manic, energy is energy and he hasn’t had enough energy to sleep with Yokoo in what feels like forever.

“Please, Watta,” Fujigaya coaxes, pushing his hands out of the way and crawling into his lap, straddling him with his knees digging into the ready room couch on either side of Yokoo. He wraps arms around Yokoo’s neck and leans in for a kiss, murmuring, “Please, please,” against his mouth.

“You’re just going to get yourself all worked up,” Yokoo says, infuriatingly calm. He does curl arms around Fujigaya’s waist, though, fits them together more naturally. “And then be four times as grumpy when we get interrupted.”

“Then shut up and get to it,” Fujigaya orders, crushing their mouths more tightly together so Yokoo won’t have any air to say all this responsible shit.

It isn’t long before Fujigaya is grinding down against Yokoo, and maybe it’s a little embarrassing how desperate he already feels, but he wants Yokoo, and it’s been way too long. He drags fingers through Yokoo’s hair, tugging enough to make Yokoo hum into his mouth, loving the length of it and how it feels spilling over his fingers.

“Easy, easy,” Yokoo says, smoothing hands down Fujigaya’s sides, soothing and gentle. “You’re shaking.”

“Because I want you,” Fujigaya insists, only clinging more tightly, grinding down more pointedly. He can feel Yokoo hard against him and wants to feel more, all of him, but doesn’t want to pull away even to strip off their clothes.

“That isn’t why,” Yokoo says, but he doesn’t try to stop Fujigaya, only to slow him a little, warm hands calming as the slip under Fujigaya’s shirt and rub circles over his skin. “How do you want me then?”

“I don’t know,” Fujigaya grumbles, dragging kisses across Yokoo’s jaw and neck. “You. Now.”

Since he’s clearly not going to be any help, Yokoo pushes Fujigaya firmly off his lap, onto the couch beside him. Fujigaya whines and wriggles, protesting the separation, but Yokoo doesn’t stop pushing until Fujigaya is flat on his back and Yokoo can crawl over top of him.

“Oh,” Fujigaya says, eyes fluttering shut when Yokoo settles his weight on top of Fujigaya, pushing him down into the cushions.

Yokoo laughs. “You say ‘Oh!’ like it’s something I invented just now,” he teases, then kisses Fujigaya’s pout before Fujigaya can protest that that’s because it’s been so long since he had proper sex that he can hardly remember what it’s like, so Yokoo might as well be inventing it.

Yokoo reaches between them and undoes the button of Fujigaya’s jeans, drawing down the zipper enough to tug him free. His touch is gentle and careful, mindful of the zipper and how hard Fujigaya is, and Fujigaya can only whimper, getting his hands back into Yokoo’s hair and tugging a little when Yokoo starts to stroke him off.

“Want my mouth?” Yokoo offers, but Fujigaya shakes his head.

“Stay here,” Fujigaya asks, tugging Yokoo’s face close enough that he can stretch up for a kiss. “Mm, stay, don’t move.”

“I’m right here,” Yokoo assures like he understands, and he probably does. As much as Fujigaya likes sex in general, it’s the closeness with Yokoo that he’s been missing, the feel of the two of them pressed tightly together, so close that he can feel Yokoo’s heart beating next to his. Fujigaya’s is skittering from arousal and caffeine, too fast, but Yokoo’s is steady and strong. Soon Fujigaya is rocking up into Yokoo’s fist with the same steady, strong rhythm, and it isn’t long before he spills over Yokoo’s hand and his own stomach with a soft sigh.

“Watta,” Fujigaya says, just say Yokoo’s name, rubbing his cheek against Yokoo’s shoulder. He feels better, calmer, although unfortunately that probably means he’s going to fall asleep any second. “I want…”

“Shh, don’t worry about it.” Yokoo finishes tucking Fujigaya back into his jeans and bats Fujigaya’s hand away from where it’s trying to fumble against his own zipper. “You can make it up to me, later. Properly,” he adds, as if it’s a warning, but Fujigaya knows it isn’t, just something Yokoo wants. He’ll gladly give it, in the scenario when he can stay awake tonight long enough to do it.

He probably won’t. But Yokoo knows that too.

“Honestly, I don’t get why you even put up with me,” Fujigaya murmurs, eyes already falling shut. Yokoo settles in, mostly on top of him and sort of wedged between him and the back of the couch, and the first soft touch to Fujigaya’s hair makes him sigh happily. “I wouldn’t put up with me.”

“That’s why I have to, then, isn’t it,” Yokoo asks, sounding off-hand. “Tonight, don’t forget. You’re all mine.”

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