Snow Man, Get Your Money’s Worth

Title: Get Your Money’s Worth [Watanabe/Miyadate]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: Miyadate and Watanabe enjoy karaoke. Or at least enjoy the room.
AN: Written for Shiritori.

Get Your Money’s Worth

“Let’s aim for the stars~,” Watanabe warbles, and Miyadate chuckles to himself because Watanabe is kind of adorable when he’s drunk. Also pretty handsy, and Miyadate likes that an awful lot too.

“Hi,” he says when Watanabe is curled up against his back suddenly, arms around his waist and NEWS song forgotten in the background.

“Hi,” Watanabe breathes right in his ear, fingers teasing at the hem of Miyadate’s T-shirt. “You wanna fool around, right?”

“Here?” They really shouldn’t, right here in the karaoke booth, but Watanabe’s hand is already under Miyadate’s shirt and brushing across his stomach, Watanabe nuzzling the back of his neck. “We’re going home together, you. Impatient much?”

“You’ll be quiet there,” Watanabe points out. His hand slides up high enough to pinch one of Miyadate’s nipples, and Miyadate bites his lip. “Here is soundproof, so let’s go already.” He pinches a little harder and this time Miyadate lets the soft moan come out on its own. “Mmm, like that.”

Watanabe pushes Miyadate down on the bench seat, flat on his back, and Miyadate lets Watanabe do whatever he wants, pushing Miyadate’s shirt up to his armpits, running fingers over his skin. Even when Watanabe teases at his ticklish spots, Miyadate doesn’t protest, the only noises out of his mouth the soft moans that are making Watanabe’s eyes turn darker and darker.

“Please?” Miyadate finally says, and Watanabe falls on him heavily, crushing their mouths together without asking if that’s what Miyadate is asking for (it is). Miyadate gets a hand in Watanabe’s hair and holds on tightly, making sure he can’t go anywhere. He can feel Watanabe pressing hard against his hip, just as hard as Miyadate is, and even though his jeans are bordering on painfully tight, he refuses to let go, kissing Watanabe fiercely as an outlet for the minor frustration.

“Leggo,” Watanabe says after a bit, voice muffled against Miyadate’s mouth. “Wanna suck you off.”

“No.” Miyadate tightens his grip, curling one leg up around the back of Watanabe’s thigh to keep him pinned in place. Watanabe’s struggles only make him grin in between kisses, hips arching up against Watanabe with a mind of their own.

“Ryota!” Watanabe manages to get his hands on Miyadate’s shoulders and push himself up, pinning Miyadate down against the seat more firmly. His chest is heaving, hair mussed and cheeks flushed dark, and a rush of heat floods over Miyadate’s already over-warm skin. “Honestly, who do you think are you, saying no to blowjobs?”

“I’d rather kiss you,” Miyadate answers honestly, making Watanabe narrow his eyes to glare and that’s pretty hot too. “I’d rather wait until we got home and I could have you on my bed, bare naked and flat on your back with your knees around me—”

“Well, you’ll just have to suffer through!” Watanabe announces loudly, and Miyadate laughs in spite of himself. “In fact, feel free to complain loudly the entire time, with moaning.”

“Noooo,” Miyadate fakes unwillingness as Watanabe yanks open Miyadate’s belt and unzips him, careful not to catch anything delicate despite his impatience. “No, don’t, it’s terrible!”

“Asshole,” Watanabe mutters as he slides down enough to get comfortable, propped up on his elbows, one hand already stroking Miyadate. “You are totally getting punished later.”

“Punished with sex? Oh no! Nooo…ohhhhhhh.” Miyadate slips easily from fake complaining to actual noises as Watanabe sucks him into his mouth and gets serious. His mouth is familiar, hot, and perfect and Miyadate doesn’t see anything wrong with letting Watanabe hear how good it is, if he wants to hear that so much. “Mm, Shota. Shota, Shota, Shota.”

Calling his name must be the right thing, because it makes Watanabe moan in echo. Miyadate tips his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, just giving in to the feel of Watanabe’s hands and mouth on him. It’s not long at all before the rising pressure gives way, sweeping Miyadate’s brain along with it for a few long moments.

When he gets his bearings back, Watanabe is already on top of him, whining for attention and praise, rolling his hips not very subtly against Miyadate’s thigh.

“It really wasn’t that good,” Miyadate says breathlessly. “Was that the best you can do, really?”

“I’m seriously breaking up with you,” Watanabe deadpans, which for some reason Miyadate finds more hilarious than anything. He’s still laughing when Watanabe kisses him, which quickly turns to lightheadedness when the kiss goes on longer than a second or two. “Fuck, just use your hand or something, I’m dying.”

“Shh, easy, cowboy,” Miyadate soothes, reaching down to comply before Watanabe squirms them both onto the floor. He doesn’t even have trouble getting his hand down Watanabe’s pants, and they’re going to talk about him eating later, again, but for now he just closes his hand around Watanabe’s length and shivers as Watanabe thrusts into his grip. He really does have himself worked up, because it doesn’t take any time at all for Watanabe to gasp and shudder himself out, then turn into dead weight against Miyadate’s side. “Guess I won’t be holding the microphone with that hand.”

“Snowman problems,” Watanabe mumbles against Miyadate’s chest, making Miyadate burst into giggles again. Watanabe joins in after a second, jiggling on top of Miyadate’s stomach like in that dumb circle game. By the time they straighten themselves out, the lady is calling on the phone to ask if they want another hour. Miyadate opens his mouth to say yes, since they sung hardly anything, but then takes a look at Watanabe stretching beside him, baring a pale stripe of skin across his belly, begging to be touched, and he says instead no thanks, they’re good.

Maybe they don’t get their money’s worth out of the karaoke booth in the conventional sense, but then again there’s always next time.

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