Kis-My-Ft2, Endless Road

Title: Endless Road [OT7]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for orgy in Osaka.
Summary: During their last PLAYZONE performance in Osaka, Kis-My-Ft2 comes to grips with the news about their first tour, and Senga has a brilliant idea.
AN: A lot of the information for this came from this translation translation of Kisumai’s tour announcement. I have absolutely no idea how this turned into nearly 8k of orgyfic, but hopefully you (and by ‘you’ i mean ‘rachel’) will think it was worth the month it took me to finish it.

Endless Road

Kitayama doesn’t disagree with the others when they say that he doesn’t understand things since he joined so late. It’s true, partially, because there are a lot of things which the others seem to accept as normal that he has no interesting in understanding, things about feathers and prop closets and senpai and entering concerts on parade floats.

He can see why they would think that, especially Fujigaya and Tsukada (Ten years, he says in his head, and it sounds crazy like that, crazier still that soon it’ll be eleven). But under the tease, Kitayama doesn’t think it really is as true as they all make it out to be. Certainly he’s been here long enough to make up for most of the years he’d missed in his misspent, sequin-less, pre-Johnny’s youth.

It isn’t that he doesn’t feel the want that they do, the frustration of chasing endlessly (NEWSKanjani8KAT-TUNHey!Say!JUMP) and never quite catching up. It’s just that Kitayama likes to play things closer to the vest than that, doesn’t like to show so much. He does want it; he feels the sharp sting of it under his skin every time he steps on stage or laces a skate, and thinks that maybe he feels it sharpest of all because of his age.

He wonders if Yokoo feels that way too. They’ve never talked about it.

In his more romantic (read: inebriated) moments, Kitayama likes to think and occasionally announce out loud that it was definitely fate that he joined so late anyway because it wouldn’t be Kis-My-Ft2 otherwise. It sounds good to say, even though the rest of the time he knows that Johnny’s has plenty of K’s to chose from. Fujigaya sometimes theorizes that they could have had Kamenashi, which makes Yokoo scrunch his nose in artistic pain and Kawai put possessive hands on Hashimoto.

(Although, he mentions to Fujigaya in the backseat of the taxi, still buzzed and his head comfortable in Fujigaya’s lap, Kamenashi doesn’t have a ‘ki,’ does he, and so it has to be fate after all.)

The mail catches Kitayama off-guard, and he stares at it for a long time, rereading it over and over. His chest burns and he can’t catch his breath, like he’s been running for ages (years), but it feels good too, like being in the home stretch of a marathon, the ache sweet.

He didn’t used to understand, it’s true, but he’s learned now about running just for the joy of it, and Kitayama wonders if he’ll even recognize the finish line when he gets to it. He wonders if when he finally catches the thing they’ve all been chasing, if he’ll know the feel of it in his hand.

He hopes it feels exactly like this.

(And not so much like how his eardrums feel after his phone rings in his hands and he answers it to have Fujigaya shrieking so loud that he has to hold the phone a foot away from his head to shout back.)

*****

It isn’t until they’re in Osaka that Senga fully understands.

He understood before, he’s not a moron, he comprehended the words in the mail and coming out of Kitayama’s mouth and in Fujigaya’s announcement. He laughed and shrieked with the rest of them, and it isn’t like he’s ever going to forget the moment they found out it was a tour, not just some shows, all theirs, and the look on Nikaido’s face right before he burst into tears.

But when they’re standing on the stage in Osaka, all seven of them together, Senga staring out at hundreds of excitement-lit faces while he lifts the mic to his mouth, suddenly all at once Senga understands.

It’s real. This is really happening, they’re announcing it, in front of people, it’s theirs, with dates and locations and this is really going to happen for real.

Senga opens his mouth to speak, and all that comes out is a sob, the mic sending it rolling out over the whole theater.

It’s mortifying, but he can’t stop, and the harder Senga tries to regain his composure, to say something, anything, the harder he bawls, until he has to give up and lower his mic so he can wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. He can hear the others laughing at him over his choked sobs, and the audience kyaa-ing at him and calling for him to hang in there.

When he finally looks up, Miyata is already talking instead, giving his greeting, and he winks at Senga when Yokoo takes over. Miyata gets distracted, though, by Tamamori turning around to give him a high five, and Senga gives a watery snicker at how they beam at each other like morons before Tamamori turns back to the audience.

Ten seconds later, when Tamamori turns around for another high five, Senga doesn’t even bother trying to hide his laughter at how weird they are, a sudden burst of love for them blooming in his chest.

Nikaido catches Senga’s eye after he’s done saying his bit, and grins at Senga widely in the universal silent code for I’m going to rag on you about this until the end of time. Senga tries to pout at him, but it won’t hold and keeps turning into a grin every bit as stupid as Miyata’s, and then Nikaido gives Senga a different smile, the one that only Senga gets and makes Nikaido’s whole face light up, and Senga starts to cry all over again, unable to contain any of his overwhelming feelings.

Senga struggles to follow along with what Fujigaya’s saying, but he fades in and out as he tries to swallow his sobs and concentrate on something else, like how Miyata and Tamamori are still high fiving like total freaks. He’s jerked back to his senses when suddenly he hears Yara asking if he can do their choreography.

The others are all exchanging glances of horror hidden beneath their stage smiles, but Senga decides immediately that that’s exactly what he wants. Not trusting himself with the mic, he beams at Yara for all he’s worth, and the wink Yara sends back says he’s gotten his message across just fine.

He loves all of them like crazy, Senga realizes as they all finally stumble off the stage together, and maybe it’s the shock still or the adrenaline from the show or the electricity that shivers through Senga’s stomach every time Nikaido gives him that smile. Maybe it’s all of those things, but suddenly Senga wants them all to be together, to be close enough for him to touch everyone at once.

All of them is exactly what he wants.

“You baby,” Nikaido hollers at him as he bounds up to Senga’s side in the wings, laughing and grinning and obviously about to run Senga’s little episode completely into the ground, but his expression changes quick enough when Senga starts telling him his idea.

*****

The instant they’re out of the audience’s sight, Miyata grabs Tamamori tight around the waist, hefts him up, and twirls him in circles.

“Quit it!” Tamamori squawks, cheeks turning scarlet, and he thumps his fists against Miyata’s shoulders. “Put me down! I’ll be sick on you!”

Dizzy enough that the circles are getting kind of drunk, Miyata lets Tamamori slide back to the ground suddenly, then leans up to yank him in for a fierce kiss. He can feel Tamamori scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to shove him off, can feel Tamamori’s skin heating up against his own, but he doesn’t let Tamamori push him back until he’s good and ready.

“Toshiya,” Tamamori hisses at him, glancing around in horror to find out who’s seen.

The rest of Kisumai seem unimpressed. Uchi’s eyes are rather wide, but Yara just gives a little “Pfft” noise, as if nothing could have been more obvious, and then starts dragging Uchi off to their dressing room.

“Yuuta,” Miyata echoes back at him, and when Tamamori focuses a laser-like glare back on him, Miyata only smiles benignly. “Did you think you weren’t obvious? I mean, the first dozen high fives, sure, but after that…”

“I hate you,” Tamamori grumbles, pressing the backs of his hands to his crimson cheeks, “so much. So much.”

Miyata laughs and leans in to kiss Tamamori’s cheek, and is still laughing when Tamamori shoves him hard enough to knock him to the ground, and then storms off with Fujigaya and Nikaido without looking back.

“You really are the M, aren’t you?” Kitayama asks, and Miyata grins up at him from the ground until Kitayama gives him a hand up.

“Tama-chan’s pretty tsundere.” Miyata gives Kitayama a cheerful leer as they start walking back to their dressing room as well. “It’s all abuse now, but later…”

“Right, right, enough,” Kitayama interrupts, waving a hand like he can fend off Miyata’s words from getting into his brain. “Speaking of that, though…Ken-chan and Nika have this idea that…well. They want us to meet up in their room. All of us.”

“Hm?” Miyata tilts his head, wondering why Kitayama is giving him that look, like he’s trying to pass information directly into Miyata’s brain without saying it out loud.

“You know,” Kitayama raises an eyebrow, “all of us. Together.”

“Oooh.” Miyata catches on at least, blushing a touch himself. Must be catching. “Gotcha.”

“So I said I’d pass on the message,” Kitayama shrugs, “but I know you and Tama-chan haven’t been playing with anybody else lately, so.”

“Er, right. Well, that was sort of my idea…” Miyata trails off when Kitayama gives him a pointed look, clearly having no desire to hear the details. “I’ll tell Tama. What time?”

Kitayama raises both eyebrows this time. “Really?”

“Well,” Miyata feels even more flustered under the full attention of Kitayama’s curiosity, “I…it’s only because I asked him to, you know, not that I don’t like to, sometimes, but…anyway, but if it’s all of us, that’s different.”

“Is it?” Kitayama asks, voice casual, but Miyata, for all his uselessness, can tell when he’s being asked a serious question.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers without hesitation. It feels good to say it, and suddenly Miyata realizes why Tamamori answers him so easily when he asks. “If it’s Kisumai, that’s different.”

“Hm,” is all Kitayama says, and he strolls ahead.

Hours later, when Miyata knocks on Senga and Nikaido’s door, Tamamori’s fingers laced warm through his, he’s not surprised that Kitayama is the one who answers it. What surprises him is the happiness that flits over Kitayama’s face at their presence, before it smoothes back into his normal cool expression, and the answering curl of pleasure in Miyata’s stomach.

“Well, get in here already,” Kitayama waves them in. “We almost got started without you.”

“Ne, but you can’t do it right without the T!” Miyata protests as the two of them slip in the door and Kitayama shuts it behind them. Tamamori shoots a bemused look over his shoulder before heading over to the others, letting his fingers slide out of Miyata’s. Miyata turns his grin to Kitayama instead. “And you definitely need an M, right?”

Kitayama runs a deliberate gaze over Miyata from top to bottom, and Miyata shivers, wondering if Leader Kink might be contagious.

*****

Truth be told, Yokoo’s always been more of a watcher. It isn’t that he isn’t excited himself, isn’t struggling with the same dangerous hope that they all are, but he was content to watch over the others from the third level on stage, and he’s content now to stretch across Senga’s bed and supervise the goings-on.

Senga’s bed is comfortable after all, and also quite a sight larger than the one in Yokoo’s room, and eventually Yokoo will get Nikaido to tell him how he managed a room with doubles for just the two of them, no matter what means of persuasion he has to use.

Senga himself, adorably, still seems to think that he’s in charge, and is ordering Nikaido and Fujigaya to get pillows from the adjoining room, although Yokoo doesn’t miss the little “Please~” that Senga adds when Fujigaya looks ready to balk.

Likewise, Yokoo doesn’t miss how Tamamori and Miyata’s hands are tangled when Kitayama lets them in, or how Tamamori’s fingers drag across Miyata’s palm as he pulls away to go over to Senga. Nor does he miss the way Senga’s face lights up when Senga turns around and finds Tamamori standing behind him.

“Tama-chan!” Senga exclaims, his obvious delight making Tamamori’s cheeks go a little pink. “Mitsu said he didn’t think you two would come.”

“Well…” Tamamori starts, but Yokoo doesn’t hear the rest because Nikaido and Fujigaya return from the other room with the pillows just then, complaining loudly about their ill-treatment.

Ignoring them, Senga turns to Yokoo with his hands on his hips. “Get off.”

“Now?” Yokoo tilts his head as if puzzled. “In front of everyone? It’s weird if I’m the only one doing it, ne.”

“Of the bed,” Senga clarifies, bossy look intensifying, and Yokoo doesn’t bother to hide his snicker as Nikaido tells him to just do it already and grabs his wrist to tug him up.

Nikaido doesn’t let go, though, while they watch Senga order Kitayama, Miyata, and Fujigaya where to push the beds around, and then tell them they’re doing it all wrong when they do exactly what he says. After a minute or so, Yokoo twists his wrist to catch at Nikaido’s hand, and squeezes it when Nikaido raises an eyebrow.

“Had everybody yet?” Nikaido asks in an undertone, just curious.

Yokoo shakes his head. “Taisuke and Mitsu. You, but you know that, and Kento, but never by himself.” Yokoo notes Nikaido’s smirk and continues. “Not Miyacchi or Tama, so far.”

“Hmm,” Nikaido replies, then says nothing else.

“And how about you?” Yokoo asks gamely, since Nikaido plainly is waiting for it.

“Yup~,” Nikaido smirks harder, “and believe me, you’re missing out in the one instance.”

“Hmm,” Yokoo imitates Nikaido’s hum, and glances to the side where Tamamori appears to be focused on the comedy of errors in front of them, but his pink cheeks say he’s eavesdropping. “Won’t be missing out for long, I think.”

“What are you doing?” Senga demands, exasperated. “What part of ‘orgy’ don’t you understand?”

“We’re definitely not going to all fit on there,” Nikaido comments, although he drops his volume another notch or two so that Senga won’t overhear.

“What part of ‘orgy’ don’t you understand?” Yokoo inquires benignly. Just then, Senga declares the scene ready, and Yokoo contemplates snapping a picture of the beds shoved together with his phone and sending it to Shige with no explanation besides a cat emoticon.

Fujigaya dumps his armload of pillows on the beds carelessly, mouth crinkling up in distaste when Miyata announces cheerfully that it’s naked time.

Tugging Nikaido along with him, Yokoo strolls the two steps to the bed and retakes his previous position, stretched out comfortably on his back in the center of Senga’s former bed with one of the pillows tucked behind his head. Having Nikaido warm against his side is a noticeable improvement though, especially when Nikaido slides his hand down Yokoo’s sternum and leaves it resting on Yokoo’s stomach, the heat of his skin sinking through Yokoo’s T-shirt.

Tamamori’s still watching them, cheeks pink but eyes dark with interest.

“See something you want?” Nikaido asks, leering openly, and Yokoo clicks his tongue at the fallacy of youth.

He holds his hand out to Tamamori, offering, and Tamamori’s expression blossoms into a shy expression of pleasure, far more pleasing than all the dirty talk in the world. Subtlety, that’s what these kouhai lack, Yokoo thinks as Tamamori crawls up onto the bed to settle himself against Yokoo’s other side.

Although, he admits when Nikaido leans over Yokoo to press his mouth firmly against Tamamori’s, there’s something to be said for the direct approach.

Nikaido kisses like he does everything else, intensely focused, demanding, but he more than makes up for it in return when he gets what he wants, if the soft whimpers Tamamori is giving are any indication. Nikaido takes his hand off Yokoo’s stomach to get it into Tamamori’s hair instead, pulling Tamamori’s head into a better angle, and Yokoo stifles a groan himself at the slide of Nikaido’s tongue against Tamamori’s.

“Orgy,” Yokoo reminds, planting a hand in Nikaido’s chest and pushing back, and he leans up on one elbow to take over where Nikaido left off before Tamamori can do more than blink at him dazedly.

Tamamori’s lips are slick and warm, starting to puff up already from Nikaido’s rough treatment, and Yokoo helps them along by nipping at the bottom one until Tamamori gives a real moan into his mouth.

After barely a minute, Nikaido gets impatient and tugs Tamamori back for another turn, but Yokoo doesn’t mind so much since his neck is getting tired. He lets his head flop down against the pillow and glances past Tamamori’s shoulder to get a look at what everyone else is doing.

Miyata is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the beds, watching them with a grin and without any trace of self-consciousness. Kitayama’s sitting next to him, facing the other direction, watching Senga and Fujigaya who are still bickering about pillows and whether they should push the beds against the wall.

“And did anybody think to bring condoms?” Fujigaya demands.

Kitayama holds up a square of foil, which immediately starts unfolding to a comedic length that Yokoo can’t even see the bottom of.

“Fine then,” Fujigaya says, satisfied.

Only Miyata seems to notice Yokoo’s chuckle, and he winks at Yokoo before nudging at Kitayama with his elbow. Kitayama glances over his shoulder at Yokoo plus the entertainment, then shifts further sideways to get a longer look, gaze keen and appreciative. Miyata gives him a few moments to take it all in before leaning over to capture Kitayama’s mouth.

“Oi, pay attention,” Nikaido says, poking Yokoo’s chest hard enough to make him grunt, and he turns his gaze back to find Nikaido and Tamamori both leaning over him, looking mussed and expectant. “Unless you want us just to do it over top of you.”

“Mitsu, toss over a couple of those condoms?” Yokoo asks without looking. A couple seconds later, something soft smacks against the side of Yokoo’s head, and Nikaido reaches over to hold up a strip of three squares.

“Gave you an extra one for luck,” he hears Kitayama say. “You’ll need it with those two.”

“Good luck to you,” Nikaido retorts, “‘Cause Miyata only tops.” He tears the first square off and drops the other two on Yokoo’s chest. “Get naked already.”

Tamamori’s already out of his shirt and fiddling with his belt, and Yokoo much prefers to sit back and enjoy the show. “You want it so bad, you make it happen, brat.”

Huffing an immensely put-upon sigh, Nikaido yanks at the hem of Yokoo’s shirt until it’s over his head and then strips off his jeans with the same lack of romance. Yokoo doesn’t care; he’s busy eyeing the stretch of Tamamori’s legs as he kicks off his own jeans, and the muscles flexing along Tamamori’s body, sleek and strong from dance.

“Wow, should have got to you earlier, huh?” Yokoo asks, and Tamamori tilts his head back to laugh, clear and beautiful. He hears somebody else laugh too, and thinks it’s Miyata, although he’s not sure because Tamamori is already crawling back into his arms for another kiss and the slide of their bare skin distracts Yokoo from everything else.

He expects to be interrupted by Nikaido at any moment, and so is surprised when it’s Tamamori who actually interrupts things, tearing his mouth away from Yokoo’s to moan. A glance over his shoulder shows Nikaido, finally naked as well, and although Yokoo can’t see it all clearly, the twist of Nikaido’s shoulder and another moan from Tamamori has Yokoo guessing that Nikaido’s two fingers deep inside Tamamori already.

“You can have him first,” Nikaido says, “and if you’re touching him right now, I’d stop, cause he’s faster than Yaracchi after a show.”

“That’s pretty fast,” Senga comments idly, and Nikaido does something that makes Tamamori wail and scrabble at Yokoo’s chest.

Yokoo pushes Tamamori into a more maintainable position on top of his chest, sliding his hands down to hold Tamamori’s hips steady, and Tamamori hums his appreciation as he starts pushing back against Nikaido.

“Don’t worry,” Yokoo brushes his lips along Tamamori’s cheekbone, “I can do fast.”

Tamamori turns his head to catch at Yokoo’s mouth, sliding fingers into his hair and teasing at Yokoo’s tongue with his own. Tamamori’s cock is sliding along Yokoo’s, hot and hard, and Yokoo works a hand in between them to squeeze them together, making both of them shudder.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” is Nikaido’s comment. “You ready yet?”

“Yes,” Tamamori says immediately, “please, Watta.”

The sweetness of it makes Yokoo hum in pleasure and steal another kiss from Tamamori, and it’s a long breath before he can find the motivation to push Tamamori up, until he’s sitting on Yokoo’s thighs, far enough down that Yokoo can get the condom on. Tamamori is watching him with open interest, and Yokoo curses under his breath when he fumbles tearing the foil open and ruins his cool image.

Tamamori makes it up to him by taking the condom from him and rolling it down Yokoo’s length himself. His touch is confident and appreciative, and Yokoo is suddenly glad he hasn’t made any promises about lasting.

Nikaido reaches around to slick Yokoo’s cock with his lubed hand, giving him a few extra strokes than is strictly necessary. When he lets go, he gives Tamamori some strokes of his own, until Tamamori’s breathing is rough and his eyes are squeezed shut, and Yokoo sees what Nikaido means about Tamamori’s endurance.

“You aren’t going to come before I even get inside you, right?” Yokoo asks as he helps Nikaido urge Tamamori up onto his knees, using his other hand to hold his cock steady.

“Probably,” Tamamori gasps, voice thin.

“We’ve been working on his endurance this summer,” Miyata’s announces proudly, then, “Ow, Mitsu! Geez, I’m focused already, I’m focused.”

Tamamori slides down onto Yokoo’s cock slowly, Nikaido’s hands around his chest helping him keep his balance when his thighs start to tremble with the effort of it. Yokoo doesn’t bother to stifle his moan at how good it already feels, Tamamori hot and tight around him, and both of them groan in harmony when Tamamori slips the last inch down to settle heavy on Yokoo’s thighs.

“You’re flat,” Fujigaya says, and then he and Senga give a disgustingly in-tune moan of their own, in perfect thirds no less.

“Man,” Miyata says, “if we only had a wind machine,” before Kitayama does something that makes him give an undignified yelp.

Tamamori takes a deep breath and starts to move, pulling Yokoo’s attention back the situation in hand.

“Hmm, Tama,” Yokoo murmurs, shifting his hips up as Tamamori bears down, making Tamamori give a breathy whine. It turns into a full-fledged moan when Yokoo lets go of Tamamori’s hip to palm his cock instead.

“Watta,” Tamamori warns, but Yokoo doesn’t pull his hand away. It only takes a dozen or so strokes before Tamamori cries out and comes. He’s beautiful, back arched and skin flushed, tightening around Yokoo until Yokoo’s digging the fingers of his other hand into Tamamori’s skin not to come right away himself.

“Told you,” Nikaido says, draping himself over Tamamori’s back and looking down to see the damage. He hums in satisfaction at the streaks of white across Yokoo’s stomach and Yokoo’s hand still curled around Tamamori’s cock. “Nice.”

“Okay, Tama-chan?” Yokoo asks, ignoring Nikaido, although he lets Nikaido push his hand off Tama to replace it with his own.

“Uh-huh.” Tamamori gives a last little shiver and opens his eyes just enough for Yokoo to see the heated glimmer of them under Tamamori’s lashes. “Go ahead.”

Yokoo doesn’t need to be told twice. He shifts his hands on Tamamori’s hips until he’s got a good grip, and then thrusts up at the same time as he tugs Tamamori down. Nikaido helps Tamamori hold his balance, letting Yokoo do as he will, until Yokoo can’t hold back anymore and gives himself over to the tight squeeze of Tamamori’s body.

“Hmmm,” Yokoo sighs eventually, when Tamamori is sliding off of his cock. Something good is going on to his right, from the sound of it, but Yokoo only has eyes for Tamamori when he opens them and finds Nikaido pushing Tamamori onto his elbows and knees, until his nose is only an inch or two from Yokoo’s.

“Hi,” Tamamori says, his shy voice cute even though Yokoo knows that it’s a shameless act. Yokoo kisses him anyway, getting comfortable, and tasting the whimper Tamamori gives when Nikaido pushes inside him.

Tamamori’s already getting hard again, his cock pressing stickily against Yokoo’s stomach.

“Impressive,” Yokoo comments against Tamamori’s mouth, and Tamamori pushes himself back up on his elbows to grin at him.

“Thanks.” Tamamori glances over his shoulder, coy and knowing all at once. “Touch me, Nika?”

Yokoo settles back against his pillow, more than content for now just to watch.

*****

It’s no secret that Fujigaya loves attention. Not that that’s a shocking quality in a jyannis, but Fujigaya in particular isn’t fully satisfied until he’s in the spotlight, everybody’s eyes focused squarely on him, and if somebody is making high-pitched noises of glee, so much the better.

And that doesn’t just go for when he’s on stage.

“Would you pay attention to me?” Fujigaya demands in exasperation when he looks up and finds Senga not paying any attention at all for the third time. He squeezes roughly with the fingers wrapped around the base of Senga’s cock, hard enough to make Senga grunt.

“Ne, but they’re hot, Taipi,” Senga whines, and Fujigaya turns his head with a sigh to critique what’s going on next to them.

They are indeed hot, Fujigaya has to admit, hot as fuck. Kitayama is stretched out underneath Miyata, one knee hooked around Miyata’s elbow and clearly not doing a single ounce of the work as Miyata thrusts into him hard enough for Fujigaya to feel it through the mattress. Kitayama has one hand above him to brace himself against the wall and the other on his cock, mouth open on a moan and dark hair messy against the pillow, and Fujigaya wishes they could convince Kitayama to keep it that way, because fuck.

Miyata’s worth looking at himself, it pains Fujigaya to admit, the strength of his arms and thighs obvious as he holds himself over Kitayama, eyes intense and hair curling in damp strands over his cheeks. Fujigaya feels his cock twitch and has to adjust himself where he’s pressed against the blankets, and swears silently that he will never ever admit that he had any of these thoughts to either Gocchi or Fumito.

“Fine, they’re hot,” Fujigaya grumbles. “But I’m kind of giving you a blowjob here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Come up here,” Senga commands, still not looking and waving at Fujigaya impatiently, and Fujigaya thinks seriously about biting him. “Hurry up, you’ll miss Tama!”

Well, that’s different then, and Fujigaya crawls up because he wants to see and not because Senga told him to, and shoves Senga onto his side so that he can curl along Senga’s back and watch over his shoulder. Senga doesn’t argue, he just takes one of Fujigaya’s hands and puts it back on his cock, settling his ass back snug against Fujigaya’s own erection.

His view weirdly framed by Miyata and Kitayama’s body, Fujigaya can see Tamamori and Nikaido in profile, Yokoo mostly hidden by Kitayama from this angle. Nikaido is pressed against Tamamori’s back, licking and sucking at the top of his spine, and Tamamori is clearly going to come any second, judging by the pitch of his moans. Fujigaya leans up a little higher to see which of them is fucking Tamamori; it’s Nikaido, his thrusts short and sharp, while Yokoo lies relaxed under both of them and watches openly, his hand wrapped over top of Nikaido’s on Tamamori’s cock.

Senga moans softly as well when Tamamori gives in, Nikaido not far behind, and Fujigaya fists Senga a little more tightly, flexing his own hips against Senga’s ass. Nikaido and Tamamori collapse in a pile on top of Yokoo, and Fujigaya hopes that maybe they can get back to business already, except that Miyata and Kitayama are still going, and don’t show any signs of giving up as quickly as the others.

“Ne, Taipi,” Senga asks, voice breathless, and when he turns his head to finally look, Fujigaya swallows a groan at how wide Senga’s pupils are with want. “Fuck me at the same time as them, okay?”

Well, then. Fujigaya supposes that might be okay.

They stay in the position they’re already in, since it gives both of them the best view, Fujigaya only pushing Senga’s knee up so that he can run slick fingers down the curve of his ass and across his entrance. Senga lifts his knee a little more and moans encouragement.

He’s got Senga prepped and a condom on in record time, and maybe he should have spent a little longer on it, but Senga’s nagging at him to hurry the entire time, and if Senga’s legal enough to have an orgy with his whole unit, then Fujigaya figures he’s old enough to know how many fingers he needs.

Fujigaya relents a little, though, when Senga draws a hissed breath between his teeth, and also because Senga is so tight that Fujigaya isn’t sure how far inside he’s going to make it. “Okay, Ken-chan?”

“No,” Senga is at least honest, “don’t stop.”

Putting his now-slick hand back on Senga’s cock, Fujigaya works him back to hardness by stroking him at the same time as Miyata is thrusting into Kitayama, and after a couple breaths, Senga starts to relax enough that Fujigaya can work his way deeper inside with tiny thrusts.

“Better now?” Fujigaya asks, unnecessarily, but whispering in Senga’s ear makes him groan and shift around Fujigaya.

“Like them, okay?” Senga remains focused on his original demand. “Mm, Taipi, just like them.”

That’s just fine with Fujigaya, because Miyata is giving it to Kitayama pretty hard at this point, making Kitayama groan shamelessly, and the ragged quality of his voice is firing want like lightning down Fujigaya’s spine. He squeezes his hand tighter around Senga and thrusts into him, picking up Miyata’s rhythm and fucking Senga forward into his fist.

“Aah, just like that,” Senga pants, letting his hand flop over on the bed to grab at Kitayama’s hand. Kitayama doesn’t turn his head or open his eyes, but he laces his fingers through Senga’s and squeezes tightly enough that their knuckles are pale. “Taipi, do you fuck him like that?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya answers, voice getting just as rough as Kitayama’s, forcing his hips to stay in rhythm even though they want to jerk out of time, hard and fast into Senga. “Bastard makes me do all the work too.”

“Really close,” Miyata warns, and Fujigaya isn’t sure if he’s warning Kitayama or Senga or all of them, but he shifts his angle a little too, until Senga wails.

“There, oh, there,” Senga sobs, and Fujigaya focuses all his energy on staying there right there like Senga is begging him to, until Senga and Miyata both spend themselves at more or less the same time.

In the few seconds while they catch their breath, Kitayama cracks his eyes open and shares a look of perfect understanding with Fujigaya.

“If you’re gonna complain about it,” Kitayama says, voice a growl that rubs all along Fujigaya’s skin, “next time I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk,” and that’s all it takes to send Fujigaya over the edge as well, spilling himself inside Senga and biting down on his shoulder.

“Owww,” Senga whines, but it’s a token protest at best. He pulls away enough for Fujigaya to slip out of him and rolls onto his back, his hand still clasped with Kitayama’s. Fujigaya frowns as Senga wants to know, “Okay, so what next?”

*****

Tamamori feels good from top to bottom, warm and content and skin still buzzing with his last orgasm, tucked safely against Yokoo’s chest with Yokoo’s arm curled loosely against his waist. It’s almost as good as being tucked in bed with just Miyata, and it gets that much closer when Tamamori watches Miyata shudder in release, Tamamori’s body giving a sympathetic shiver of its own.

Even though he knows Miyata doesn’t care, Tamamori wishes he could last as long for Miyata as Kitayama did. Tamamori is thoroughly impressed when Kitayama not only doesn’t come along with him, but turns his head to dirty talk Fujigaya into coming as well while Miyata is still blinking the sweat out of his eyes.

“That’s just like Leader,” Tamamori murmurs to nobody in particular.

“Tch, he’s not Leader,” Nikaido says dismissively. Tamamori turns his head to find Nikaido sitting up by Tamamori’s and Yokoo’s knees, stretching one arm over his head as if working out a kink in his shoulders.

A second later, he crawls over Tamamori and Yokoo to shoulder Miyata out of the way enough to kiss Kitayama roughly. Tamamori stays right where he is, thumbing Yokoo’s nipple idly and watching as Kitayama turns the tables on Nikaido, apparently having done all the bottoming he’s intending to do for the night. Yokoo’s hum of approval stirs Tamamori’s hair.

“Oi,” a voice interrupts Tamamori’s thoughts, and he looks down to find Fujigaya standing at the foot of their bed. “Go play with Ken-chan, I want your spot.”

“Hn?” Tamamori’s voice is reluctant, even though the idea has a certain amount of appeal. “But Watta’s really comfortable.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Fujigaya demands, already climbing onto the bed and sitting on his knees, impatient with his hand on his hip. “Anyway, don’t even lie, you’re starting to get hard again thinking about it.”

It’s sort of an overstatement, even Tamamori isn’t that fast after the second orgasm, but there is a certain amount of interest warming in Tamamori’s veins. The interest takes a sharp spike when Nikaido moans a string of curses and calls Kitayama a fucking son of a bitch.

“All right, all right,” Tamamori gives in, making sure he sounds good and put-upon, and he pushes himself up to trade places with Fujigaya. Fujigaya crawls into Tamamori’s warm spot and collapses with a relieved grunt, and Yokoo tears his eyes away from Nikaido and Kitayama long enough to kiss him hello.

The only way to get around the flailing, cursing knot of sex in the middle of the bed is to crawl off the end and back on the other side, Tamamori realizes, and so he retraces Fujigaya’s steps and pads over the carpet.

He’s barely got his knees up on the other side when he looks up and realizes that Miyata is sprawled out in front of him, loose-limbed and sleepy-eyed, and beaming at him moronically.

It’s Miyata at his best, making happiness and want rush through Tamamori’s veins, and nothing in the universe could stop him from crawling up into Miyata’s waiting arms.

“Hey there,” Miyata says, raising his eyebrow as Tamamori does exactly that and snuggles tight against his side, humming with pleasure as Miyata’s warmth sinks into his skin. “Happy we came?”

“Uh-huh.” Tamamori reaches up to brush Miyata’s damp hair back from his face and kisses his cheek. “You are too, right?”

Miyata kisses Tamamori in answer, getting a hand in his hair and pulling him even closer. Tamamori hums softly in pleasure as Miyata tangles their legs together and strokes his fingers against Tamamori’s scalp. Everything else seems to slip away for a little while, even the loudness of Kitayama and Nikaido beside them, and Fujigaya egging them on shamelessly.

“Mm,” Tamamori eventually pushes Miyata back a couple inches to remind, “orgy, Miyacchi. We’re kind of sucking at it.”

“I don’t mind,” Senga says, and both Miyata and Tamamori turn their heads to find Senga sitting cross-legged beside them, watching intently. He grins at them. “You two are hot.”

“Flattering,” Miyata chuckles, “but I’m really done, so if you two want to play…”

“But Tama’s not, right?” Senga’s grin widens, and Tamamori and Miyata blink at each other.

“Ken-chan,” Tamamori says after a second, “Miyacchi doesn’t really…I mean, we did it that way the once, but…you know, not everybody’s like you and Nika.”

“I said harder, you lazy jerk,” Nikaido snarls. “Fuck, no wonder this takes you so long!”

“I told you, Miyacchi’d do anything if you asked,” Senga says dismissively. “And I definitely want to watch.”

“I…” Tamamori starts.

“Okay,” Miyata interrupts, making Tamamori’s jaw drop. Miyata blushes a little, but adds, “If you want to, Tama-chan.”

“Really?” Tamamori starts to blush too, tongue tied. “R-really? I mean, Toshiya, you don’t have to, I know you don’t, and I really…”

“Oh my god, please just fuck him,” Kitayama interrupts. “Why do you all suck at this so hard?”

“I suck just fine, thanks,” Fujigaya pipes up, “and I’ll be happy to show you since it seems like Nika can’t quite finish you off either.”

“Hmm,” Senga hums happily, then turns his attention back to Miyata and Tamamori. “So?”

“It’s really okay?” Tamamori asks, and Miyata nods. Tamamori grins stupidly at him and gives him another quick kiss. “Okay.”

“We’re gonna need some more condoms over here!” Senga calls cheerfully, and this time it’s Yokoo who throws them and Miyata who gets hit in the head with them.

True to his word, Senga does indeed want to just watch, settling himself against a couple pillows that are still in a heap where Fujigaya left them and stroking himself slowly. Tamamori can’t quite see what’s worth watching about him trying to coax Miyata into relaxing around his fingers, but he doesn’t argue with Senga.

Then Miyata loosens up all at once and pushes down against Tamamori’s fingers with a moan of his name, and Tamamori sees exactly what’s worth watching about it.

Tamamori takes his time about it, but Miyata still can’t hide his scrunched expression when Tamamori starts pushing inside him. Tamamori’s ready to stop, when Senga suddenly proves himself useful.

“Ne, relax,” Senga says, budging over to kiss Miyata’s cheek. “It gets a lot better if you do.” Senga lets go of his own cock to palm Miyata’s instead, and despite Miyata’s claims of exhaustion, gradually Senga does manage to work him to hardness. “See? You can return the favor though, right?”

Miyata starts to laugh, and just like that, he relaxes enough that Tamamori can push past the resistance of Miyata’s body.

“Toshiya,” Tamamori murmurs shakily, closing his eyes because if he watches Miyata and Senga with their hands on each other, he’s definitely going to lose it, “you feel so good.”

“Hope so.” Miyata’s hand cups Tamamori’s cheek, and Tamamori opens his eyes to find himself looking down into Miyata’s eyes, liquid with heat and affection. “Hope I feel as good as you do.”

Tamamori doesn’t know how Miyata ever lasts more than a minute or two if that’s true, but he tries his best to hold it together as he cautiously withdraws and pushes back inside Miyata. Miyata’s breath catches the first time, but Tamamori keeps going, slow and even, and soon Miyata is pushing down carefully against him.

“You two should definitely kiss,” Senga says, bossy voice back, and Tamamori has half a mind to do exactly the opposite of whatever Senga says, before Miyata reaches up to tug Tamamori’s head down to comply.

Both of them are breathing too hard to kiss properly, but it’s Miyata and it still sends bolts of pleasure down Tamamori’s spine as they lick messily at each other’s mouths. Tamamori loses track of everything else, focused only on Miyata’s mouth against his and trying not to come, when suddenly Miyata stiffens underneath him.

“What?” Tamamori asks, stilling immediately, “Am I—”

“Don’t stop,” Miyata demands, “fuck, don’t stop!”

Tamamori digs his knees in and does what Miyata says, in awe at the way Miyata groans his name, and then suddenly Miyata’s coming in pulses over his stomach and Senga’s hand. Miyata squeezes tight around Tamamori, the suddenness of his orgasm driving all the air out of Tamamori’s lungs and dragging him under along with him. Shaking, Tamamori collapses on top of Miyata and holds him tightly as they both shiver themselves out.

“Ne,” he says after a second, “what about…”

Both of them turn their heads to find Senga with his hand wrapped around Miyata’s on his cock. As though waiting for their attention, Senga arches his back and comes with a soft moan.

“Ew,” Miyata says, although he sounds honestly perfectly happy with the entire situation. “Hope you’re happy, Tama-chan, because I don’t think I can ever come again.”

“Yup,” Tamamori agrees, tilting his face up for a lazy kiss. “Mm, Miyata, you know I…”

He gets interrupted by Senga tugging Tamamori off of Miyata so that he can wriggle himself into the middle in a transparent ploy to be cuddled from all sides.

Tamamori doesn’t mind so much. The grin Miyata is giving him over Senga’s head says that he already knows everything Tamamori was going to say.

*****

Kitayama, Nikaido snarls to himself, is an unbelievable bastard.

“Just say it, Nika-chan,” Kitayama says. There’s a catch in his voice, but otherwise he sounds like he could go on fucking Nikaido forever. “Say it and I’ll let you come.”

It feels like he has been fucking Nikaido forever, but Nikaido can’t come without being touched and Kitayama knows it. He’s so hard it’s driving him crazy, but Kitayama has his wrists pinned, and there’s nothing Nikaido can do except thrust up against him and curse.

Which he does. Loudly.

“Mm-hmm,” Kitayama accepts every name Nikaido calls him with a sharp grin. “Go ahead, say it. Everybody’s busy, nobody’ll probably even hear.”

Fuck you, Nikaido wants to say, or maybe has actually said several times, but Kitayama just laughs, because that’s exactly what he’s doing after all, and both of them know that in the end Nikaido doesn’t really have much of a choice.

“Fine,” Nikaido finally spits, glaring at Kitayama. “I love your cock, all right? I love it when you fuck me with your fucking cock, now will you please fucking let go of my hands so I can come already?”

Kitayama is laughing, but at least Nikaido has the satisfaction of seeing the flare of arousal in his eyes. Kitayama tells him to suit himself and lets go of one of Nikaido’s wrists, and Nikaido doesn’t lose any time wrapping his freed hand tight around his own cock and stroking himself for all he’s worth.

It takes about two and a half strokes for Nikaido to come with a sob, curling up tight against Kitayama’s chest before going slack against the mattress. A few seconds later, Kitayama comes with a groan and falls like a dead weight on Nikaido’s chest.

It’s while Nikaido is staring at the ceiling, gasping for air, that he realizes that they were the last two having sex, and everybody clearly heard him.

“Say, Nika,” Yokoo says, “tell us what you think about Mitsu’s cock again.”

“He loves it,” Kitayama snickers into Nikaido’s chest. “Didn’t you hear?”

“Get OFF me, you fat jackass,” Nikaido snaps, shoving at Kitayama. Kitayama rolls off him, laughing his head off until Fujigaya shuts him up with a kiss.

Sulking, Nikaido turns onto his own side, away from Kitayama and those other jerks, and scowls at the lazy knot Tamamori, Miyata, and Senga are tangled in.

“Oi.” Nikaido shifts over to knee Miyata in the hip, “hand him over.”

“Hm?” Miyata yawns and looks down as if he’s just noticing Senga cuddled against his chest. Senga yawns cutely and blinks at him. “Okay.”

Senga grumbles when Miyata and Tamamori start pushing at him, but his annoyance fades when he gets rolled over close enough for Nikaido to get his hands on him. Nikaido tugs him close and runs hands over Senga, asking gruffly if anybody did anything weird to him.

“What?” Senga laughs. He sits up and shushes Nikaido when Nikaido makes a mutinous noise. “I’m just getting the blankets, moron, I’ll be back in ten seconds. If you get lonely, Mitsu’s dick is right over there.”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Nikaido grumbles, cheeks heating. “You love Mitsu’s dick more than anybody.”

Senga laughs to himself as he leans off the edge of the bed and grabs the pile of blankets where he and Tamamori dropped them. He sits up and tosses one over Miyata and Tamamori, who snuggle under it with happy noises, and then another one over at the older trio, who acknowledge him with sleepy grunts of thanks.

“So we get two!” Senga announces to Nikaido in a smug whisper, flopping back down beside Nikaido and beaming up at him proudly.

“Yes, yes, you’re very clever,” Nikaido says, letting Senga mollify him with scratchy hotel blankets and the warm tangle of their limbs. Senga kisses him, slow and sweet, and then settles down with his cheek pillowed on Nikaido’s shoulder.

Senga’s asleep almost as soon as his eyes are closed, breathing evenly and making soft, familiar noises when Nikaido tightens his arm around him. On Senga’s other side, Miyata and Tamamori are talking too quietly for Nikaido to make it out, and clearly both falling asleep.

Nikaido turns his head to see if the others are asleep too, and finds himself almost nose to nose with Kitayama. Kitayama’s sprawled on his stomach with his head pillowed on his folded arms. Behind him, Yokoo’s out cold, and the only part of Fujigaya sticking out from under the blanket is a puff of hair.

“You know, Nika-chan,” Kitayama murmurs, stretching a little under his fraction of the blanket, “you can be pretty cute sometimes.”

“Hmf.” Nikaido reaches up to tug the extra blanket off of himself and Senga; Senga makes another little noise. “Here, take this.”

Kitayama just grins harder as he tucks himself under the whole blanket much more successfully. He only has to move about three inches to kiss Nikaido’s cheek with an exaggerated noise. “Really cute.”

“Fatso,” Nikaido grunts, scrubbing at his cheek with the back of the hand that’s not holding Senga close. “And why are you the last one awake anyhow?” Kitayama just laughs, and they lapse into comfortable silence until Nikaido says Kitayama’s name again, expecting Kitayama to have already fallen asleep. He’s surprised when he gets a “Hm?” in response. “Well…do you think we can catch up? You know, to everybody?”

“Hm,” Kitayama says. “Got a whole tour to try, right? If it’s us, I think we definitely can.”

“Nn.” Nikaido hides his grin behind a fold of his blanket. “That’s the sort of crap I’d expect from Kisumai’s Ki.”

“Brat,” Kitayama says, but he’s smiling as his eyes slip shut, not a smirk but a real smile, and it’s that more than anything that makes Nikaido think that maybe they’ll pull this off after all.

Even when Kitayama adds, “You’re just lucky you aren’t still the dash.”

• 

  By ri, 2012.09.03 @ 3:45 pm

  okay this one might be my favorite. i was crying at nikaido yelling at mitsu the whole time and then watta & senga trolling nika at the end. i love how it’s senga who decides it and how they all haven’t had each other and tamamiya try not to fail at orgies and fujisenga are voyeurs. i really just love everything, yes.

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