Kis-My-Ft2, Working Up to It

Title: Working Up to It [Tamamori/Miyata]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Tamamori’s waited long enough for Miyata to take the lead.
AN: Written for the Quick and Dirty September Porn Exchange, for Rosie who wanted Tamamori topping.

Other fics in the exchange: Omoikkiri | Miquilis | Orange-c-c | Sanzo | Noemi

Working Up to It

Tamamori has it all planned out.

Now that they share hotel rooms on tour, and there’s no chance of anyone’s mom or brother or flying squirrel interrupting, he’s totally willing to go the whole way with Miyata.

He’ll make Miyata work for it, of course. Miyata will tell Tamamori that he’s pretty and perfect and can they please? And Tamamori will say ew, no, Miyata’s gross and a pervert for thinking about that kind of stuff, no way, and then Miyata will look him in the eye and say but he loves him and really wants him and hug him tight with his warm, strong arms, and promise it’ll feel so good. And then Tamamori will say weeeeeeell okay, I guess, so long as Miyata makes him feel really good, that’s the deal, and Miyata totally will and that’ll be that.

Fifteen hotels later, Tamamori is starting to think he needs a new plan.

Tamamori can get Miyata into bed just fine, but that’s as far as he can make it go. The two of them curl up under the blankets together to watch some television or talk, Miyata’s worn T-shirt soft and comfortable against Tamamori’s bare chest, and Tamamori can get Miyata to wrap arms tight around him reliably enough. Lately he’s gotten bold enough to initiate kissing even, hoping a spark will catch and push Miyata past the point of no return.

But no matter what he tries, Miyata will eventually wish him goodnight with a sweet kiss, and then untangle himself to go sleep in his own bed.

With only a handful of venues left to go in this tour, Tamamori decides he’s got to put his foot down or they’re never going to get anywhere. Determined to be prepared for anything, along with his usual concert gear he packs condoms, lube, and a few volumes of relevant manga he borrowed from his mother’s hiding place. She’ll never know.

Probably. Or else he’ll have to kill himself.

He’s somewhat on edge all day as they set up and do soundchecks and runthroughs, but he plays it cool enough that everyone else probably thinks it’s nerves or pre-show adrenaline or something.

“Are you nervous?” Miyata asks, handing Tamamori a water bottle and peering at his face in concern. “Is it about the show? But we haven’t changed anything really for the last couple…”

Tamamori blows his bangs out of his face in annoyance; trust Miyata to be so perceptive now, instead of when he’s willing Miyata to want sex with the power of his mind. He almost brushes Miyata off with an “I’m fine,” but then changes his mind.

“I want to talk about it, but later,” Tamamori says. “In our room.”

“Okay,” Miyata agrees, even though he looks puzzled by Tamamori’s forthright answer. “Whatever you want, Tama-chan.”

Feeling like he can set it aside mentally, Tamamori manages to get through a whole concert without falling on his ass even once. Even Fujigaya only bitches at him for form’s sake, and Kitayama thumps him solidly on the back on the way to his costume rack, which is Kitayama code for “Leader thinks you did a good job but can’t say so out loud because it’ll make me look like Leader.”

“So,” Miyata says, and he must have told Kitayama something was up since Kitayama made a big show of going to hang out in room 2000, “what’s up? Everything okay?”

Tamamori takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. He scolds himself for being stupid, it isn’t like Miyata will tell him no, but he feels nervous all the same.

“Are we gonna ever do it or what?” he blurts, cheeks heating up.

“Do what?” Miyata asks, then he notices Tamamori’s blush and turns a bit pink himself. “It? R-really, you want to do that?”

“Duh.” Tamamori rolls his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move already, but it’s been ages and you’re so slow! And it’s really annoying because normally you notice like everything about me, but I’ve been trying to get you to ask so I could say no and then yes, and you haven’t noticed at all! I mean, I love you and all, but seriously, Miyacchi…”

“You do?” Miyata interrupts, eyes hopeful and uncertain. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you!” Tamamori snaps, entirely at the end of his patience. “Why would I put up with a boyfriend for months and months who refuses to put out if I didn’t love you? What did you even think was going on here?!”

“I was working up to it,” Miyata answers guilelessly. “I was wooing you.”

“You wooed me! I’ve been wooed! There is no more need for any of your woos!”

“Oh.” Miyata looks so pleased with himself, it’s all Tamamori can do not to strangle him right then and there, even if it means he never does get laid. “So…want to make out?”

“GET IN THE BED RIGHT NOW,” Tamamori bellows.

“Fuck, keep it down in there, you freaks!” Fujigaya hollers back through the wall, and Tamamori narrows his eyes, suddenly determined to make so much noise that manager-san won’t be able to look them in the eye for a week.

“Why’d your face get scary like that all of the sudden?” Miyata asks, chuckling nervously. Tamamori shoves him hard enough to knock him onto his back across his bed, and then climbs in after him.

Impatient as he is, it’s impossible not to relax a little when Miyata is warm against him, his arms wrapping naturally around Tamamori’s neck. Miyata’s kiss is equally soothing, sending waves of warmth and pleasure over Tamamori’s skin, how much he adores Tamamori clear just from the way he runs fingers through Tamamori’s hair, down his neck and shoulders and back. He cups Miyata’s face in his hands and thumbs at his cheekbones, licking into Miyata’s mouth when Miyata parts his lips to sigh happily.

Tamamori likes this part, the making out, the closeness and the warmth of it and the way it makes his skin prickle with anticipation, but after a bit he’s really just waiting for Miyata to roll them over, to take charge. Miyata doesn’t, though, and finally Tamamori lifts his head and breaks the kiss.

“Well?” he asks.

“Hm?” Miyata asks, voice lower than usual. His eyes are low-lidded and dark, his lips puffing up a little, and Tamamori’s heart trips over itself at how good Miyata looks this way. “Well what?”

“I’m waiting for you to get on with it!” Tamamori informs him. “I already told you it was fine, so—” Tamamori cuts off and narrows his eyes when Miyata starts to chuckle.

“Tama-chan,” he says, letting his arms flop down above his head, “I’m waiting for you to get on with it.”

A sudden realization makes Tamamori raise an eyebrow. “Miyacchi, how exactly have you been thinking about us doing this?”

Miyata shrugs carelessly. “You said you wanted me.” He smiles, and it’s all heat. “Tama-chan can have me, for sure.”

That’s what Tamamori was afraid of, because it’s exactly the opposite of what he’s been imagining. It’s on the tip of his tongue to complain about having to do all the work, when he stops himself and takes another look at Miyata spread out underneath him, dark hair spilling across the sheets and eyes full of trust. The idea of being in control suddenly seems a lot more appealing, sparking a burst of want low in his belly.

“But,” is what he finally does say, “have you ever done it that way?”

“No,” Miyata answers. “But you’ve never done it with a guy at all, right?” Tamamori shakes his head. “So starting out like this is probably better anyway. And this way, Tama-chan gets one of my firsts too.” He grins so hard that his eyes scrunch up, and Tamamori leans up on one elbow to flick him in the nose, before he crawls off the bed to dig up his supplies.

It takes him a few seconds, because the contents of his bag have all shifted, long enough that when he looks up Miyata is bare-chested and wriggling out of his jeans, and Tamamori forgets entirely what he’s doing. Miyata looks sheepish but pleased when he realizes Tamamori is watching, and when he tugs the jeans off he maybe does it with a bit more flourish than necessary.

“Show-off,” Tamamori grumbles, cheeks hot.

“Yeah?” Miyata leans back on his hands, smirking. “I’d like to see you do better.”

“I just bet you would.” Tamamori gives up and upends his whole bag, the contents falling out in a heap. It unearths the lube and condoms, but unfortunately also the manga volumes.

“Oho! And just who do those belong to?” Miyata wants to know. He’s been in Tamamori’s bedroom more than enough times to know they certainly aren’t his, and in hindsight Tamamori curses himself for not just doing his sexual research on the internet like everybody else.

“Don’t laugh,” he orders, glaring at Miyata with steely eyes. Miyata mimes crossing his heart. “…My mother’s.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but Miyata is obviously struggling to keep his promise.

“Oh, go on,” he sighs, resigned, and even smiles wryly himself when Miyata breaks down into snickers. Tamamori just shakes his head as he climbs to his feet. “The shit I even do for you.”

“Aw, I’m flattered you did research for me,” Miyata soothes, holding out his arms for Tamamori to crawl back into. “Mm, but just so you know,” he adds as Tamamori does exactly that, “flowers won’t actually bloom in the air around us when we do it.”

“You,” Tamamori growls, pinching Miyata’s invisible waist pudge, and Miyata squirms and slaps his hand away. In the next breath he’s stripping off Tamamori’s shirt and tossing it aside, and Tamamori gasps from the heat of Miyata’s skin against his own when he presses close again.

He reaches for Tamamori’s jeans next, but hesitates with his fingers on the button, the heel of his hand warm against Tamamori’s belly.

“You’re sure?” he asks, looking into Tamamori’s eyes and really asking. “I’d wait as long as you wanted.”

A rush of affection makes Tamamori’s heart squeeze, and he grumbles, “See, that’s why you can’t be in charge anymore. Hurry up already.”

“Okay, okay.” Miyata undoes Tamamori’s jeans and pushes everything out of the way, leaving a tingling trail where his fingertips brush Tamamori’s ass and the backs of his thighs fleetingly. “Do you want me to tell you how to get me ready, or do you want to watch me do it myself?”

He knows it isn’t meant to be dirty talk, but it still makes Tamamori’s cock twitch to hear Miyata say that sort of stuff, and he pushes his face into Miyata’s shoulder to cover up the moan he swallows. “I…” He doesn’t want to stop touching Miyata, definitely, so there’s only one possible choice. “Tell me what to do.”

“Mm, okay.” Miyata’s lips brush Tamamori’s temple, and Tamamori can feel his shiver all along his own body. “Normally first thing is to get me hard, but…” Miyata chuckles and Tamamori can feel that all over as well. Miyata tugs Tamamori’s hand down by the wrist until it bumps his cock, and Tamamori wraps his hand around it on instinct.

It feels different than his own, thicker and maybe even longer, and looks different sliding through his fingers when he turns his head to peek. He thumbs the tip, like he does to himself, and Miyata lets his head drop back with a groan.

“Tama, you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about your fingers,” Miyata sighs, and Tamamori shivers. It’s embarrassing to hear Miyata talk about him like that, but it’s hot too, and it’s tempting to keep stroking Miyata just like this, to make him fall apart and say Tamamori’s name some more, just like that.

Later, he promises himself. They’ll never get anywhere if he can’t keep himself under control a bit longer.

“Now what?” he asks, making his voice as firm as he can. “Tell me what to do.”

Miyata gives him a heated grin, clearly enjoying this new side of Tamamori, but he doesn’t answer in words. He’s still holding Tamamori’s wrist, and he pushes it down, further between his legs. His fingertips brush the wrinkled edge of Miyata’s hole, and Miyata makes a soft noise that makes Tamamori’s blood rush.

“Got it,” he says, pulling his hand away, and promptly ruins his cool-type image by fumbling the lube. Miyata chuckles and just watches, unhelpful, and Tamamori gives him a dark look as he tries again and actually manages to get the lube on his fingers this time.

Miyata’s body is tight around even one of Tamamori’s slender finger, and Tamamori wonders how he’s ever going to get his whole dick in there. Some of it must show in his face, because Miyata pushes down against him a little until he looks up.

“It stretches,” Miyata promises. “Try another one. Seriously,” he groans when Tamamori obeys, “you have amazing fingers…”

His praise cuts off when Tamamori pushes in more deeply with both fingers, but when Tamamori pauses, he says not to stop. Tamamori waits until Miyata is rocking down against him and telling him how awesome he is again before trying the third one. This time Miyata’s noise is definitely pained, but his eyes are just as determined when Tamamori meets them.

“Relax for me?” Tamamori asks, and then thinks about how much Miyata likes Tamamori ordering him around. He tries again, a command instead. “Relax for me, Miyacchi. Let me in.”

“Tama…” Miyata obeys, slow but steady, and soon Tamamori’s fingers aren’t so cramped together. He tries wiggling them a little and Miyata moans, loud and sudden enough that it makes Tamamori startle. Take that, Fujigaya.

“Do that again,” he orders, surprise replaced by heat, and Miyata does, just like he does everything Tamamori asks. Tamamori curls his fingers, Miyata slick and so hot around him, and Miyata switches to a drawn-out version of Tamamori’s name. Tamamori wants him, more than anything, but he doesn’t want to stop doing this either, doesn’t want to get distracted and not be able to watch anymore.

“Please,” Miyata says, just when Tamamori feels like he’s going to go out of his skin with want. “Please?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Tamamori pulls his fingers out so fast that Miyata curses, which makes him giggle for some reason. His hands are too lube-slick for the condom packet, so Miyata has to open it for him. Miyata’s fingers are shaking, from want, not nerves, and that makes Tamamori laugh too, feeling drunk on affection and the heat of Miyata’s hand around his length when Miyata rolls the condom onto him.

“This way?” Miyata asks, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at Tamamori expectantly.

“Yeah, stay like that,” Tamamori agrees, crawling over top of Miyata and fusing their mouths together. The kiss is hot and messy, both of them short of breath already, and Tamamori almost forgets what he’s doing before Miyata tilts his hips up, trying to force him into the right spot.

He tries to watch Miyata’s face as he pushes in, worried about hurting him, but the heat and pressure forces his eyes closed when he’s just barely inside, steals his breath. Miyata is murmuring his name over and over, arms tight around Tamamori’s shoulders and face buried against Tamamori’s neck.

“Shh,” Tamamori soothes, working his way inside in tiny pushes that are driving him nearly out of his mind. “Fuck, you feel so good inside, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.”

“Y’feel good too,” Miyata answers. He draws a slow breath and lets out a shuddering sigh, then does it again. After a couple more, he lets go of Tamamori to flop back onto the sheets and gives Tamamori a dazed, warm grin.

“Ready?” Tamamori asks, and Miyata nods. He reaches up to get a grip on the sheets above his head. Tamamori slides his hands down Miyata’s sides until he finds the perfect grip on Miyata’s hips, and squeezes just enough to make Miyata sigh.

Tamamori eases slowly back out and pushes in until Miyata’s thighs are flush with his, and when he has his bearings he starts to speed up. Miyata hitches himself up a little, squirming, and Tamamori doesn’t quite understand why until he thrusts again and Miyata arches against him with a low moan.

“Like that?” Tamamori asks. Miyata makes a noise that clearly means yes, fingers twisting even more tightly in the sheets. Tamamori wants to hear more, wants Miyata to scream for him. “Let me hear you,” he orders, digging his knees into the mattress and pushing harder, right into that spot. “I want to hear your voice.”

Miyata obliges him, and Tamamori has always loved his voice, but he’d never known it could sound like this, rich and low and making every hair on Tamamori’s body rise, like Miyata’s touching him everywhere all at once. It’s that more than anything that drags Tamamori close to the edge, and he growls in frustration because he wants to do this so much longer, and he never wants to stop.

The least he can do is drag Miyata down with him.

“Don’t stop,” Miyata groans when Tamamori braces himself on one elbow so that he can work a hand in between them.

“It’s the only way I can reach you, idiot,” Tamamori says, short because he totally agrees. His hips are flexing on their own still, but it’s not as good, not enough. Then he realizes, what the hell, why is he doing all the work? “Touch yourself and I can do it the other way.”

It’s clearly taking Miyata some effort to make his limbs cooperation, but he manages to peel his fingers away from the blanket. Even the small contact when Miyata knocks Tamamori’s hand away makes both of them cry out, like the spark when the carpet makes them shock each other.

“Good, yeah,” Tamamori gasps, pushing himself back up into his original position. He has to hunt around a bit again, but he knows he has it right when Miyata clenches around him and all but sobs his name. “So good, keep touching yourself. You’re close, right?”

“Yes,” Miyata groans, eyes squeezed tightly shut and gasping for air. He’s so tight around Tamamori that Tamamori has to work harder to keep thrusting, but every thrust makes another moan spill from Miyata’s throat. Tamamori feels like his nerves are on fire; it’s so good but there’s no way he can last any longer.

“I want you to come for me,” he tells Miyata, holding back his own orgasm with nothing but will. “Do it, Toshiya, come for me.”

Miyata cries out and goes tense under Tamamori, and Tamamori loses his control as soon as he feels the wet heat against his stomach. It’s nothing like getting himself off, a rush of pleasure that Tamamori feels to the tips of his fingers and toes and turns his brain to static for he isn’t sure how long.

When he can sort out himself from Miyata again, his nose is smooshed against Miyata’s shoulder and Miyata’s fingers are dragging gentle paths through his hair.

“Huwah?” he asks, not even sure what words he was trying to form. His limbs feel like lead, his thighs already aching dully. “Fuck.”

“Can you move at all?” Miyata asks. “Sorry, Tama-chan, but…”

“Shit,” Tamamori groans, realizing that however sore he’s going to be, Miyata’s going to be about ten times less happy. He uses the last of his energy to roll himself off to the side, wincing as Miyata lets out a long hiss. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” Miyata insists, grunting as he relaxes his legs flat to the bed, rubbing at the backs of his thighs. “My leg fell asleep.” It’s a lie, but it’s cute.

“You’re way too much work,” Tamamori sighs, letting Miyata pull him close and tuck Tamamori’s face against his chest. Miyata’s heartbeat is steady and comforting against his ear. “I am not doing nearly that much work next time.”

“Whatever Tama-chan wants,” Miyata assures, and Tamamori can feel the happy shiver that runs over Miyata’s skin at the words ‘next time.’ “I’ll do anything you want.”

“I want you to shut up,” Tamamori tells him, throwing an arm over Miyata’s waist. Endorphins are still making him feel fuzzy all over, and everywhere their skin touches feels better than anything else Tamamori could name.

“I love you,” Miyata says, lips brushing Tamamori’s forehead, and that feels even better. “Sorry I made you wait so long.”

“Whatever,” Tamamori mumbles, “shut up, I said.” And then he’s out like a light.

When he wakes up later, the light is still on and Kitayama is back in the room, snoring away on the other bed. Miyata is lying beside Tamamori under the blanket, reading, but he looks up when Tamamori stirs.

“Awake?” He follows Tamamori’s puzzled line of sight. “I told Kitamitsu he could use your bed since you didn’t seem to want it.”

Tamamori shrugs, and finally his brain works out why the manga in Miyata’s hands looks so familiar.

“What the fuck, Miyacchi,” he groans, rolling over onto his side and letting his eyes fall shut again. If Miyata and his mother even start sharing manga, they are so breaking up.

“Just thought I’d do some research of my own,” Miyata chuckles. Tamamori hears the book hit the ground with a soft thump, and then the click of the light. Miyata snuggles close, his warmth sinking into Tamamori’s back, and Tamamori doesn’t bother holding back the pleased sigh. “Since you want to try it the other way next time.”

“Next time?” Tamamori smiles to himself, knowing Miyata can’t see it. He feels the soft brush of Miyata’s lips against his bare shoulder. “Mm, no.”

Miyata’s mouth stops moving. “No? But you said…”

Tamamori rolls onto his back suddenly, tugging Miyata over until his weight is covering Tamamori, reassuring and so warm. He kisses the skin nearest to his mouth, gets the underside of Miyata’s jaw.

“This time,” he corrects, and after a second Miyata chuckles and tilts his head to capture Tamamori’s mouth properly, like it’s a promise.