Yara+THEY Budou, Impatience

Title: Impatience [Yara/Yamamoto]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: Yamamoto just can’t wait.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Pippa made me do this by linking this and this to me this morning, and I would do exactly this to all of Yamaryo’s zippers and buttons if I could.

Seems like we all chose to make the ‘danger’ this round into ‘somebody might walk in on us at any moment.’ Hasshi-manager approves ( ^_^)b

Impatience

“You can’t wait, huh?” Yara murmurs in Yamamoto’s ear, hands smoothing down his sides, warm even through his shirt, and Yamamoto shivers against him. “Tell me,” he coaxes when he doesn’t get an answer, “tell me, and you might get what you want…”

He loves making Yamamoto blush and squirm, and even though he spends a lot of time convincing Yamamoto that he’s got nothing to be embarrassed about when it’s just the two of them, if Yamamoto ever does grow out of it, Yara will totally miss it.

“Want you,” Yamamoto finally manages, arms tight around Yara’s neck and rolling his hips up into Yara’s. “Please?”

“I suppose that’s good enough,” Yara sighs, as if it’s a chore, but his kiss is fierce and messy when he seizes Yamamoto’s mouth again. He has Yamamoto hitched up against the makeup counter, letting it take just enough of Yamamoto’s weight that Yara can let his hands roam wherever he wants.

Yara is usually more careful than this backstage; even if he has a dressing room to himself and nobody thinks anything of Yamamoto hanging around in it, the privacy of his own apartment is a lot safer and more comfortable besides. He likes to make Yamamoto get loud anyway, likes making him wait and shiver with anticipation.

But this kind of anticipation, the struggle to be quiet and the thrill of maybe getting caught, that’s good once in a while too.

“Isn’t the one who can’t wait you?” Yamamoto asks, that brat, and Yara drags hands down his back until he’s squeezing Yamamoto’s ass for his impudence. It’s not much of a punishment, but it does force Yamamoto to muffle his noises against Yara’s neck.

It’s these damn costumes, is the problem. The shirts are as slick as the shiny material looks, begging Yara to run his palms over it, to rub their torsos together. And the pants hang low on Yamamoto’s hips, pleasingly rough to the touch after the slickness of the shirt. Plus there’s all the zippers.

He unzips one of them, one of the useless ones near Yamamoto’s pocket. Yamamoto tenses at the sound, then pulls back to look down with a frown when he realizes.

“Wrong zipper?” Yara chuckles low in his throat and reaches for the matching one on the other side. “What about this one?”

“Yaracchi,” Yamamoto whines, flexing his hips, but his obvious shudder only makes Yara want to tease him more. He undoes all the snaps and zippers he can get his hands on, before finally reaching for the one that really matters.

“Tell me what you want?” he asks again, wondering if he’s pushed enough buttons that Yamamoto will actually say.

“Y-your h—no, your mouth,” Yamamoto changes his answer mid-word, his gaze unusually bold as he looks up from under dark lashes. It’s the cute stutter that undoes Yara, though. “Please? I w-will if y-you do.”

“Your wish is my command.” Yara seals the deal with another quick, hot kiss, Yamamoto’s tongue slicker than any fabric even Koichi can come up with, and then he slides to his knees, pushing Yamamoto’s knees wide enough to give himself room to work. He drags the zipper down as he goes, Yamamoto’s cock so hard that it practically gets itself out before Yara tugs his pants and underwear down, just low enough.

Yara tastes salt when he laps at Yamamoto’s tip, and then he wants to taste him too much for any more teasing. He takes Yamamoto in as deep as he can, sliding hands around to Yamamoto’s ass to push him in deeper and then draw him out. When he flutters fingers against the inside of Yamamoto’s thighs, dragging them just that much higher, Yamamoto wraps fingers tight in Yara’s hair and thrusts shallowly, begging for more.

Later, Yara promises both of them mentally, tonight, but for now he lets Yamamoto fuck his mouth, concentrating only on sucking as tight around Yamamoto as he can, tonguing his underside when Yamamoto draws out enough to feel it.

“Close,” Yamamoto warns, the other little noises spilling out of his mouth making Yara’s blood pound. He draws back, making Yamamoto whine, but it turns into a moan when Yara focuses his attention on just the head of Yamamoto’s cock, licking at the notch underneath the head, bringing one of hands back around to fist his length.

The half-muffled groan he gives as he spills across Yara’s tongue is almost as cute as his stutter, and then he’s yanking Yara up by the hair so that he can lean against Yara for support. He’s still shivering with aftershocks when Yara presses their mouths together, moaning faintly when Yara shares the last unswallowed bit of his release with him.

“Your turn,” Yamamoto gasps when he drags his mouth away for air.

“Couch,” Yara orders, because he’s learned from experience that once Yamamoto hits the floor after something like this, getting him back up again is more effort than it’s worth.

He flops carelessly across the couch, hands already fumbling with his own snaps and zippers, and he gets about two strokes in before Yamamoto crawls on top of his legs and pushes his hands away. Yara slides up to more sit than lie against the arm of the couch, giving Yamamoto more room to work, cradled between Yara’s legs.

He can’t take Yara in as far, but he makes up for it with tightly wrapped hands and a clever mouth. Yara finds it hard to stay quiet himself as Yamamoto licks and sucks at his tip, but more than because he’s worried someone will hear, he swallows as much of his noise as he can so that he can hear the soft, wet noises of Yamamoto’s mouth on his skin. He drags fingers through Yamamoto’s soft hair, and Yamamoto hums around him in approval, eyes fluttering.

Yara doesn’t bother trying to hold back when the pleasure gathers in a hot ball in his stomach.

“Coming,” he warns, then does exactly that, Yamamoto’s mouth swallowing the rest of Yara’s energy along with his release.

Yamamoto gives him a last lick and a little kiss, before crawling up into Yara’s arms in an obviously ploy for snuggling and praise. Yara hands out both freely, stroking hands over Yamamoto’s bare arms and his back, afterglow making the fabric of their shirts feel even better under his palms.

“Mm, I love your mouth,” Yara murmurs into Yamamoto’s ear, making him squirm in pleasure.

“M-me too,” he answers, voice almost inaudible, but the sentiment is clear enough as Yara trails lips down his neck, leaving him practically melting.

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