Kis-My-Ft2, One AM Crazy

Title: One AM Crazy [Tamamori/Miyata]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for rimming, among other things.
Summary: Miyata has something to ask for his birthday, but somehow it’s Tamamori whose requests all seem unreasonable in the end.
AN: This is still not the rainbow bridge fic. Criminey. The incident with Junta that Tamamori mentions is from this fic here, by yeska_noka. For Miyata’s birthday. The title’s only funny, I suppose, if you’ve listened to Hair from the PLAYZONE ost as much as I have.

One AM Crazy

It’s pitch dark when Miyata is woken up, and it takes him a few blinks (not that he can tell whether his eyes are open or shut) to realize that someone is nosing at his cheek.

“Hmm, Tama,” he murmurs, letting his eyes flutter shut again. Tamamori’s low chuckle close against his ear makes Miyata shiver, and he hums something else indistinct as Tamamori’s mouth finds his, just as gentle as the brush of Tamamori’s nose against his cheek.

After a few seconds, Tamamori murmurs “Happy birthday” against Miyata’s mouth.

“Hm?” Miyata opens his eyes and turns his head, squinting at the red glare of his clock. It’s just after one, he’s been twenty-one for a whole hour. “Decided to let me sleep in this year?”

“Fell asleep,” Tamamori admits. Miyata’s eyes are starting to adjust in the dark; he can see enough to reach for Tamamori’s cheek, and he doesn’t need any light to feel the heat of Tamamori’s blush against his fingers. “Want to go back to sleep?”

“Not even close,” Miyata answers, sliding his hand around to the back of Tamamori’s neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

They’ve been asleep long enough that their breath is a little stale, but Miyata ignores it and it passes quickly enough. Instead he focuses on the way Tamamori’s skin is smooth and warm against his and how soft the strands of hair curling along Tamamori’s neck are. Miyata runs his fingers through them, tugging lightly until Tamamori is melting against him, making soft noises into his mouth.

“Miyacchi…” Tamamori pulls away and draws a deep breath. Miyata slides his mouth over Tamamori’s jaw instead, into the curve of Tamamori’s shoulder. He grazes the tendon there with the edge of his teeth, and Tamamori shudders against him, hands tight on Miyata’s back.

“So easy,” Miyata teases, voice pitched low both with want and the knowledge that Miyata’s brother will murder them if he gets woken up again, birthday or not.

“Jerk,” Tamamori grouses without heat, then gives an indignant squawk when Miyata lets go of him suddenly and rolls over.

Even the low light of the bedside lamp makes both of them wince, and when Miyata has rubbed at his eyes enough to see Tamamori’s expression, it’s sour.

“Really?” Tamamori wants to know. “I mean, really?”

But Miyata just grins at him, because he never passes up a chance to watch Tamamori’s pale skin flush, the stretch of Tamamori’s sleek muscles underneath, or even the way Tamamori’s eyes flash when he’s annoyed.

Maybe he likes that last one more than he ought to. It would certainly explain the way he kicks the blankets off of both of them without apology and looks Tamamori over head to toe, slowly.

“Jerk,” Tamamori insists, his shivers having little to do with the lack of blankets and everything to do with the finger Miyata trails from Tamamori’s shoulder down to his hip.

“So stop me,” Miyata says, supremely confident that Tamamori will do no such thing. He brings his hand back up to the bottom of Tamamori’s ribs, traces the curve around to his spine. Tamamori’s breath catches; when Miyata does it again, Tamamori has to muffle a groan. “Mm, that’s a good spot.”

“In the top five?” Tamamori asks, vague and curious. He lets Miyata’s hand tug him fully onto his stomach and pillows his cheek on his folded arms while Miyata traces idle patterns along his spine, spirals and halves of hearts and the kanji of their names.

“Maybe…three,” Miyata decides after a few seconds’ consideration. He draws two fingers up in a smooth line, from the small of Tamamori’s back the whole way up to the knob of his spine, watches Tamamori’s eyes flutter shut. He lingers there, touching lightly at the ticklish spots just under Tamamori’s shoulder blades. Tamamori makes soft noises, but doesn’t move, pliant and relaxed under Miyata’s hands, even when he curls fingers around Tamamori’s neck to stroke at the hollow of his throat.

It’s a show of trust that makes Miyata’s breath catch, makes his heart skip and fill with ten thousand idiotic things to say while his tongue refuses to let go of any of them, so that it takes him a second to answer when Tamamori asks quietly, “Number one never changes, huh?”

“Never,” he manages at last, Tamamori’s pulse steady against his fingertips. “Tama, I…”

“You love me, right?” Tamamori’s eyes don’t open, but the corner of his mouth curls up, and Miyata feels Tamamori’s pulse speed. “Mm, I know. Seen enough yet?”

“Never,” Miyata insists again, but he can’t stay away any longer either. Collapsing next to Tamamori, he lets go of Tamamori’s throat to wrap his arm around Tamamori’s waist instead, lets his head fall against his pillow so that it’s level with Tamamori’s.

Tamamori opens his eyes at last, pupils wide and irises dark with affection. “Me too, Toshiya. I love you too.”

White-hot want washes through Miyata, making his fingers tighten on Tamamori’s skin and his own eyes squeeze shut, and suddenly Miyata knows exactly what he wants for his birthday.

“Stay there, okay?” he asks when he clears his throat to speak again. “Until I tell you to move.”

“‘Kay.” Tamamori lets his eyes fall lazily shut again, limp and content and completely in Miyata’s control, and Miyata has no idea at all how he ended up here, how he got so lucky, or how he’s going to keep himself in control long enough to do what he wants.

He runs his hand down Tamamori’s spine, back the way it came, although he pauses to draw the koi character in the middle and doesn’t go on until Tamamori murmurs that he’s a moron. He keeps going even after he reaches the small of Tamamori’s back, brushing against Tamamori’s tailbone, then lower, until Tamamori gives a hum of encouragement, but he follows Miyata’s instructions and doesn’t move.

“Good,” Miyata praises, palming the curve of Tamamori’s ass with the heat of his palm and getting a small sigh in return. “Spread your legs a little.”

Tamamori obeys, no doubt adjusting himself a little as he does. Unwillingly, Miyata lets go of Tamamori momentarily to hunt around on the floor for the lube where they carelessly tossed it earlier.

“Rolled under, I think,” Tamamori suggests, and Miyata grunts as he crawls off the bed to find it. That’s exactly where it is, and when Miyata sits up on his knees, triumphant, he finds Tamamori watching him in mild amusement. “Hope the cap was on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Miyata leans in to kiss Tamamori’s cheek on the way up, then settles back in his spot by Tamamori’s hip, cap already popped. He squeezes out a dollop to warm between his fingers, then lays his clean hand on Tamamori’s back in warning.

They’d gotten to this part earlier, although not much further since Tamamori has a deep if unvoiced preference for birthday blowjobs. So Tamamori is still a bit slick but tight when Miyata works the first finger in, tight enough to make Miyata swallow a moan.

“Go on,” Tamamori says almost immediately, but Miyata takes his time, adding the second finger when he’s good and ready, enjoying the shivers that mean Tamamori is having to work harder not to move. “Come on, please?”

“Shush, whose birthday is it?” Miyata scolds, and Tamamori falls silent after that, except for the quiet cries that escape his mouth whenever Miyata does something good.

It’s a good bet that Miyata is every bit as impatient as Tamamori by the time he’s got the third finger in, but he forces himself to remain in control until he’s definitely not doing anything besides teasing. He realizes that Tamamori hasn’t said anything in a bit, and reaches up to brush fingers against Tamamori’s cheek.

“Just checking,” he reassures when Tamamori turns his head to look, and he sees that Tamamori’s been biting down on his lower lip. He brushes his thumb over the puffy skin, grinning when Tamamori’s tongue swipes along it after. “So good, Yuta. Up, but stay on your knees.”

Tamamori struggles up, and Miyata shifts to kneel behind him, a hand on Tamamori’s waist to steady him. He strokes his thumb along the jut of Tamamori’s pelvic bone, waiting until Tamamori has himself balanced right.

“Ne, can I?” Miyata asks. He keeps his voice low so it’ll stay even, but knows that Tamamori can probably read the uncertainty in it anyway.

“Can you…what?” Tamamori turns his head, but can’t see much in his position. “Wait, did you put…”

“Can I, like this?” Miyata clarifies, bumping his hips forward into Tamamori’s so that he’ll know that Miyata, indeed, hasn’t put on a condom. “I want to feel you, just you.”

Tamamori turns his head a little more to meet Miyata’s eyes for a few seconds. “Well…I mean, it won’t hurt me any. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Miyata says, and Tamamori nods. Miyata knows that it’s not the smartest decision, hygienically, but he can’t say that he cares as he slides in, Tamamori hot and slick and tight around him. It’s even more different than he expected, overwhelming, and he has to pause before he’s even fully inside.

“Miyacchi?” Tamamori asks. Miyata doesn’t have the breath to answer, but he reaches down and tugs Tamamori up, until he can press his chest to Tamamori’s back and rest his head on the back of Tamamori’s neck. He wraps his arm around Tamamori’s chest to keep him there, and Tamamori puts his hand on the wall to keep his balance.

“S’different,” he explains. Cautiously, he pushes forward again, in a little deeper, feeling Tamamori hissing against him. He stops again when he’s the whole way in, shivering with the effort of holding still, and kisses Tamamori’s shoulder. He lets one hand drift down far enough to find Tamamori hard, tip already wet. “Close?” he asks.

“Yeah, like always.” Tamamori wraps his free hand around Miyata’s, around himself. “You’re shaking.”

“You feel good.” Miyata kisses Tamamori’s shoulder again, then the warm spot just under his ear, making Tamamori shiver. “If I make you come, think you can get hard again?” Tamamori nods. “How fast?”

“Not sure.” Tamamori’s breath catches as Miyata shifts in and out, just a little. “Came a couple times earlier, so…might be slow.”

“That’s okay,” Miyata nips at Tamamori’s earlobe, makes him gasp, “I’m not in a rush.”

Miyata spreads his knees a little more for the leverage and gives his first real thrust. Tamamori only manages to swallow half of his quiet moan and scrabbles with the hand that’s on the wall, but he doesn’t let go of Miyata’s hand on his cock, and on the next thrust, he pushes back as much as he can without overbalancing.

They work their way into a rhythm, and it’s a little slower than usual and Miyata can’t pull out quite as far as he’d like, but it’s still good. It feels sweet and intimate with Tamamori held tight against Miyata’s chest, Miyata murmuring encouragement in Tamamori’s ear.

“Go on,” he urges when Tamamori whispers a warning, and when he feels Tamamori spasm around him, Miyata lets himself be dragged under as well, spends himself with his forehead pressed against Tamamori’s shoulder. Even that’s different, and he knows that Tamamori can feel the difference as well, shuddering with a sudden aftershock as Miyata spills into him.

They manage to stay upright, barely, and thanks mostly to Tamamori’s hand on the wall. Miyata doesn’t let them collapse, though. Instead he waits for a few seconds and then pulls out gently, but then just pulls Tamamori tighter against him, both of them still shaking. Tamamori turns his head far enough for a kiss that’s awkward and sweet.

Eventually, Tamamori tries to pull away, and he starts to squirm when Miyata still won’t release him. “Oi, let go, it’s…”

“Don’t move,” Miyata repeats his earlier order, and Tamamori stops struggling and eyes him. He looks surprised they still playing that game, but he doesn’t argue. After a few seconds to make sure Tamamori really isn’t going to move, Miyata sinks back down until he’s sitting on the bed, mouth curled in a small smile because he’s pretty sure he knows what Tamamori was complaining about.

Sure enough, there’s several drips working their way sluggishly down Tamamori’s thighs, and even though he must suspect what Miyata has planned, he still gives a yelp of surprise when Miyata licks at the nearest one.

“Shh,” Miyata reminds, pressing a kiss to the same spot and soothing his hand down the outside of Tamamori’s hip. “You liked it, right? When Junta…”

“Yes,” Tamamori whispers, so quiet maybe because Miyata just told him to shush, but he’d bet that Tamamori’s face is bright red as well. Miyata kisses him again, just a brush of lips, because Tamamori shouldn’t be embarrassed about stuff with that, not with him. Silently, he promises that Tamamori will forget all about his embarrassment in a few seconds.

Miyata licks at a second drip, chases it up higher than the first. Tamamori twitches, but doesn’t cry out again. Miyata wishes they could make more noise, and almost tells Tamamori to go for it, but reigns himself in at the last second. Next time, he tells himself as he puts his mouth over the last streak and sucks it away, he’ll find somewhere for them to be loud next time.

Miyata shifts up to finally put his mouth where Tamamori wants him, and at the first touch of his mouth, Tamamori makes a quiet, desperate noise that makes Miyata’s arms goosebump. He licks at the soft, puckered skin, wishing he could taste Tamamori under the lube, and on the second lick Tamamori collapses forward onto his elbows, muffling another noise with his arm.

He’s trembling already, and Miyata guesses the skin must still be sensitive where Miyata was inside Tamamori only a little while earlier. He licks at Tamamori more firmly, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue until most of the lube is gone and he can finally taste some of Tamamori underneath. He pokes just the tip of his tongue in, and Tamamori buries his face in the blankets and makes a noise that Miyata would give anything to hear unmuffled.

Miyata settles for licking in deeper and making Tamamori make it again and again, and isn’t surprised at all when he slides his hand up from Tamamori’s hip and finds him almost hard again. Giving a last lick to Tamamori’s stretched rim, Miyata pulls away and suppresses a chuckle at Tamamori’s desperate whine.

“Roll over,” Miyata whispers, because he wants to be able to concentrate and there’s no reason Tamamori can’t do some of the work. He adds, “Touch yourself,” when Tamamori complies, and resettles himself between Tamamori’s spread legs.

He gets his arms under and around Tamamori’s thighs to hitch him up a little, fixing the angle, and then he picks up where he left off. The come and lube are mostly gone, and Miyata can taste Tamamori instead. The taste is a bit sharper and muskier than Miyata is used to, but still recognizable, familiar, and Miyata would put up with a lot worse to have Tamamori pushing against him like he is.

Tamamori is jerking himself off roughly; Miyata can hear the drag of skin on skin and knows that Tamamori would have come already if he hadn’t come already so recently. He wants to feel Tamamori come all over himself again, wants to cause it, and Miyata redoubles his efforts, fingers digging into Tamamori’s skin as he pulls him closer and licks in deeper, as deeply as he can reach.

Miyata hears Tamamori’s soft cry, and that’s it. Tamamori’s body goes taut and tries to tug Miyata in even deeper, making Miyata groan. He’s felt it before, on his fingers and his cock, but it’s more of a struggle to keep his tongue where it is and not to be pushed out by the clench of it. Finally Tamamori goes limp, and Miyata pulls back, brushing soft kisses over the inside of Tamamori’s thigh while he catches his breath. He’s half-hard again himself, but Miyata ignores it, knowing from experience that doing anything about it now will hurt just as much as it feels good and leave him useless for anything later.

Not that Tamamori looks like he’ll be up for much of a third round when Miyata crawls up to gather Tamamori close, although he’s been wrong before. Tamamori snuggles close as best as he can with limbs that won’t obey him yet and nuzzles at the hinge of Miyata’s jaw.

“Can I kiss you?” Tamamori asks quietly.

“Won’t bother me,” Miyata shrugs, and apparently it doesn’t bother Tamamori either because he lifts his head immediately to press his mouth tightly against Miyata’s. Miyata’s mouth feels weird, tired, and he lets Tamamori take his time and do all the work.

By the time Tamamori pulls away and resettles himself tightly against Miyata, Miyata is more than ready to let his eyes fall shut again, to concentrate only on Tamamori’s heartbeat thudding against his own.

“It was a really good present,” Miyata mumbles into Tamamori’s hair.

“Good,” Tamamori yawns, “because I didn’t buy you anything.”

Miyata laughs because that’s a bald-faced lie; he’d seen the wrapped present in Tamamori’s bag when they were hunting for the lube initially. He figures he’ll let Tamamori hand it over whenever he’s ready, since he isn’t in a big hurry for Tamamori to go anywhere or to do anything besides fall asleep together.

“I…” Miyata starts.

“I know,” Tamamori interrupts.

“Let me say it once, can’t you?” Miyata growls, pinching at Tamamori’s waist, and Tamamori sighs and says fine, he supposes. “I love you.” Miyata punctuates his statement with a kiss to his favorite spot on Tamamori’s body, which never does change.

Although the number two spot is currently in serious contention.

“Great, then you won’t mind crawling down to find the blankets you yanked off me earlier and getting the light while you’re at it.”

Miyata pinches Tamamori harder, making him grunt, and informs Tamamori that he has no idea how proper birthdays work. But after he’s through fulfilling all of Tamamori’s unreasonable requests, he does get to snuggle back down with Tamamori in the dark and tell him he loves him a bunch more, until even Tamamori is too sleepy to fight back.

So he supposes it all worked out in the end.

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