Hey! Say! JUMP, Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer [Yabu/Yamada]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: Yamada is the perfect size for cuddling.
AN: After watching the Come on a My House PV and a HSJ concert, girlfriend and I decided that Yabu should cuddle Yamada in bed because he’s the perfect size for that. And then do other stuff.

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

“Sounds like an idea,” Yabu murmurs when Yamada suggests in exasperation that he should just sleep in Yabu’s bed, since Yuto and Takaki are rolling around in his, wrestling like idiots. Yabu is half-asleep and doesn’t really expect Yamada to do it, but the next thing he knows, Yamada is crawling into his blankets and under his arm, snuggling close. “Yama-chan?” he asks.

“Shut up, the bed is small,” Yamada says, rolling over so that his back is pressed against Yabu’s chest. “Man, you’re warm. This is totally comfortable.”

“Okay,” Yabu gives in, his personal space concerns shrunk by years of JE photoshoots and locker rooms. It is comfortable, though, Yamada the perfect size to cuddle against Yabu’s chest, his waist the perfect spot for Yabu’s arm to drape over, his head high enough for Yabu to smell his shampoo but low enough that he won’t wake up with a mouthful of hair.

He falls asleep that way and wakes up hours later in the dark with Yamada trying to work himself free. On instinct, Yabu pins him down more firmly with the arm still over Yamada’s waist.

“Stay there,” he yawns, and Yamada freezes. “Don’t go.”

After a second or two, Yamada relaxes again and shrugs. Yabu is back to sleep in a minute, and wakes up more refreshed than he’s ever been before from spending the night in a hotel with the other eight hooligans in their group. The others tease them about their innocent tangle in the morning, but Yamada only sticks out his tongue and says they’re jealous they can’t see how cute his sleeping face is.

“Or maybe you’re jealous we’re so well-rested,” Yabu adds, eyeing the dark rings under Takaki, Inoo, and Keito’s eyes. “You guys know that he never actually means you’re just going to watch a movie, right?”

Takaki blinks innocently while Inoo and Keito give him dark looks. Chinen makes a face of scandal that he wasn’t invited.

The next night, Yamada is already sprawled across his bed, exhausted from concerts, when Yabu leans over him with a hopeful look. Yamada raises an eyebrow.

“Please?” Yabu asks. Yamada rolls over with a little sigh and waves at the edge of the blankets. Yabu crawls in without any further coaxing, mandhandling Yamada into the same position as the night before, chest-to-back. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re the perfect size for cuddling. This feels good to you too, right?”

“Yeah,” Yamada agrees, voice scratchy from singing too much and too long. “It feels good everyplace I’m sore.” Yabu hums happily in agreement. It feels so good he doesn’t even miss movie night in Takaki’s room.

It turns into a regular thing, one that they don’t have to ask about. If Yabu and Yamada are both sleeping in the same place, one will turn up beside the other’s bed before the lights are out and crawl in to assume their usual position. It makes Yabu smile even during the day, that he shares this one thing with Yamada, something that’s so simple, but it makes him feel more closely bonded to Yamada. Sometimes when he’s at home in his own bed, he can’t help but wish Yamada were there too, cuddled perfectly against his chest.

A dozen hotels later, Yabu is surprised when Yamada rolls over onto his back just as Yabu is starting to fall asleep. He makes a questioning noise, his eyes barely adjusted enough to the dark to see Yamada looking up at him.

“You know,” Yamada says, “you could do more than cuddle me, if you wanted.”

“Yeah?” Yabu asks, suddenly much more awake and very aware of how warm Yamada is against him, how much dance muscle is packed into his delicate frame. “Do you want that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Yamada admits, no trace of shame. “How I bet you could stay just like that and still touch me all over with those long arms.” He leans up to press his mouth against Yabu’s, and Yabu wraps arms more tightly around his back to pull him close.

As good as Yamada feels cuddled against him, he feels even better stretched out underneath Yabu, arching up into Yabu’s hands, moaning in Yabu’s ear with his concert-scratchy voice.

“Shh,” Yabu says, but he’s laughing, feeling high like he’s still on stage as he jerks Yamada off with short, firm strokes. “You’ll strain your voice. Can you touch me too?”

Yamada obeys, his hand working into Yabu’s pajama pants and curling around his length like he really has been imagining it for weeks. They fall into a rhythm easily, small wonder after so much time on stage together, especially when Yabu plants his knees against the mattress and thrusts down into Yamada’s hand. It feels close enough to fucking him, the position and Yamada’s pleading noises all so right, that Yabu can’t hold back. He barely manages to hiss a warning before he comes over Yamada’s hand and stomach.

“Hey,” Yamada whines, pushing up into Yabu’s slack grip. Yabu collapses on his side, grinning and flush with pleasure, then gathers Yamada in close with one of the long arms he likes so much and strokes him until Yamada comes too, trembling and digging his fingers into Yabu’s arms.

“Now that you’ve got what you want from me,” Yabu says, rolling Yamada back over into their usual position, “you aren’t going to leave me for Takaki’s movie night, are you?”

Snorting, Yamada tells Yabu to shut up and hug him tighter.

2 people like this post.

Like

Unlike