Kis-My-Ft2, Watch What You Wish For

Title: Watch What You Wish For [Senga/Fujigaya, Yokoo/Nikaido]
Authors: mousapelli and rikikomori
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Nikaido can spend the night at Yokoo’s apartment any time he wants, but Senga has to take advantage of the opportunity when it pops up.
AN: Written for kink bingo, “voyeurism” square on the “long-distance” card. Lol why are all of these about Senga? Sorry, Kenpi.

Watch What You Wish For

Nikaido stands in front of Senga, eyes big and hopeful, and if he had a tail it would be wagging appealingly.

“Fine, whatever,” Senga gives in without any fight at all, smiling when Nikaido calls him the best ever and dashes off at top speed to tell Yokoo that Senga’s agreed to switch rooms for the night. It’s not every day their whole group gets to stay in an onsen overnight for a photobook shoot, let the pair of them have a thrill.

Fujigaya raises an eyebrow when it’s Senga who lets himself back into the room instead of Yokoo. He’s sprawled across his futon with the blankets kicked off because of the heat, yukata just as disheveled as the sheets, and Senga tries not to stare too obviously. Not that Fujigaya would notice, occupied as he is with his phone, as always, but still, it wouldn’t do to let on so blatantly that maybe Nikaido wasn’t the only one hoping to switch rooms tonight.

Senga hasn’t decided to make a move yet, or even if he’s going to. He’s content to watch for now, especially when Fujigaya looks so good. He prefers it, in fact, this casual, lazy Fujigaya, with no makeup and hair wild from drying against his pillow, his whole body loose-limbed and careless when he knows there aren’t any cameras around.

It isn’t long before Fujigaya tosses his phone aside and they turn out the lights, but Senga can’t sleep. It’s too hot and sticky, and he’s too aware of Fujigaya’s steady breathing, how his futon is only half a meter away from Senga’s own. He wonders if Fujigaya is awake too, thinks casually about rolling over and finding out, of how he’d wake up Fujigaya if he’s not, or all the other stuff they could do if he is.

He hasn’t gotten very far into his fantasy when the noises start from the other side of the wall. He should have expected it, honestly, though part of him had hoped that Nikaido hadn’t wanted to switch rooms solely for that reason. Yokoo has his own apartment, after all. They can do it whenever they want.

The other part of him understands the appeal, especially when yukatas are involved. His mind quickly goes back to Fujigaya, how he can smell Fujigaya’s scent from here, the lingering remains of his cologne even after a relaxing bath. Given the chance, Senga would jump to be close to him like that, and he wouldn’t give a damn who heard.

It’s quite different being on the other end of that scenario, however. Being that Nikaido is loud in every other aspect of his life, even when he sleeps, it’s only natural he’d be loud like this too. He and Yokoo aren’t the two most impatient ones in the group for nothing, so Senga figures if they’re not having sex yet, they’re damn near about to, mostly because Nikaido isn’t hissing for Yokoo to get a fucking move on already.

What he is saying is filthy, colorful swear words mixed with Yokoo’s first name and grunts that escalate in pitch as time goes on. Senga can hear Yokoo, too—his sounds are deeper, more of a whisper when he speaks, though Senga can still make out phrases like “feels so good” every now and then. It shouldn’t bother him that he can’t figure out who is topping whom, yet it does.

There’s a shuffle in the sheets next to him and Senga starts to move, happy to have someone with whom to suffer through this torture, but then a third sound joins the mix, a soft gasp that Senga would never hear if it wasn’t right next to him.

He freezes, the reality of the situation weighing down on him suddenly. It’s one thing to listen to Yokoo and Nikaido have sex on the other side of the wall, but it’s quite another to listen to Fujigaya do whatever he’s about to do no less than an arm’s length away, close enough to touch. It doesn’t stop with one gasp, either; Fujigaya’s breathing is audible, staggered, and if that’s not an indication that he’s touching himself, the slight rustle of covers would be.

At first Senga doesn’t dare turn to look, but after only two or three minutes, he can’t stand not to look any longer. What he sees is even better than he’d been imagining, the moonlight coming in through the window highlighting Fujigaya as if the whole thing had been staged just for Senga. Fujigaya’s head is thrown back, eyes closed, his yukata disheveled enough from his movement that it’s slipping off one shoulder already and open nearly the whole way down his chest. Just below the tie that’s barely keeping the whole thing on his body (and oh why is that so much hotter than if he were actually naked?), Fujigaya’s hand is wrapped tight around himself, his cock hard and tall where it’s sticking out of his fist.

He isn’t wasting any time, jerking himself off in rhythm to Nikaido’s unmuffled moaning, and Senga is shoving his own yukata and sheet out of the way before he thinks about what he’s doing. When he gets a hand around himself he has to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning out loud and attracting attention to himself. It’s so wrong, getting off on watching Fujigaya, on listening to his best friend either fucking or getting fucked, he still can’t figure it out, but the wrongness of it only makes Senga’s skin prickle more, makes him want it harder. He wonders if Fujigaya is thinking about fucking or being fucked, who he’s thinking about doing it with, or if he’s even thinking about joining in next door. He wonders if he asked right now, what Fujigaya would let him do to him.

And the wrongest part of all is that Senga doesn’t even want to find out, because then he’d have to stop watching Fujigaya touch himself. Fujigaya looks so good chasing his release without realizing anybody’s watching, uninhibited and focused only on his own pleasure. He thrusts up into his fist, thumbing his tip, and his breathing is getting rougher as he gets closer, making his chest rise and fall irregularly, his yukata falling even farther open.

Senga is watching so openly that there’s no way he can pretend he’s doing anything else when Fujigaya’s head falls to the side and his eyes open. Senga freezes, totally caught, expecting Fujigaya to stop, to yell at him maybe, to be disgusted with him. Instead, Fujigaya doesn’t even pause, like he’s so close he can’t actually stop, and the only thing that happens is that he flushes a red so bright that Senga can see it even with how the moonlight washes everything out.

“Don’t stop, please?” Senga says, voice low but loud enough to be heard over Nikaido’s moaning of Yokoo’s name. “You look so hot like that, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, Kento,” Fujigaya whispers, and even his voice is hot, deep and raspy. “I can’t—”

Senga’s already rolling over the second Fujigaya says his name, lying next to him and abandoning his own stimulation to drift his fingers across Fujigaya’s bare skin. Fujigaya jumps at the touch, fisting himself faster and he stares helplessly at Senga before tossing his hair back, stretching out his throat.

“Come for me,” Senga breathes, lifting his hand to trace the veins of Fujigaya’s throat, and he has an upfront seat for what is probably the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen—Fujigaya’s mouth falling open with a soft moan as his release squirts onto his stomach, his hand pumping quite a few times before finally stopping.

“Shit,” Fujigaya hisses, gasping for air as he remains flat on his back. “I didn’t think the two of them together would sound that…”

He seems to be searching for a word that Senga can’t quite place either. “I know what you mean,” he says, gently rocking against Fujigaya’s side for some sort of friction.

“Is that a hint?” Fujigaya scoffs, but the corners of his lips are turned up into a smile as he turns his head to face Senga. “I’m not moving, but if you want to rub off on me, it’s fine.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” Senga leans forward before he can lose his nerve, capturing those tempting lips with his, and Fujigaya does absolutely nothing to stop him. He even kisses back, so fast and heated that Senga’s mind spins, and the next thing Senga knows he feels Fujigaya’s tongue teasing his own, thin arms wrapping loosely around his neck.

Senga takes the opportunity to push off what remains of Fujigaya’s yukata, leaving no barriers to get in the way of everywhere he wants to touch, Fujigaya’s skin hot and even more sensitive after his orgasm. He explores Fujigaya’s chest and chances a flick of his nipples, which has Fujigaya gasping into his mouth and pulling him closer, then moves down to his hips and thighs that spread on their own.

“You think you can fuck me?” Fujigaya asks, speaking right against Senga’s lips with the air of someone who doesn’t believe Senga’s capable of it.

The thought has Senga’s heart racing, the rush of anticipation turning into courage. “If you let me.”

“You better make it good,” Fujigaya says, then kisses him a little harder and more promising. “Watta’s bag is over there,” he breaks the kiss to say, waving his hand vaguely towards their luggage. He gives Senga a little shove to get him moving. “I’m sure he’s got some good shit worth using.”

“He’s gonna yell at me for not asking,” Senga protests, but he’s already moving to obey, tugging his own yukata off and letting it drop carelessly on the way.

“Serves him right for ditching me.” Fujigaya stretches, and Senga can feel Fujigaya’s eyes on his back as he roots through Yokoo’s bag, making him shiver in anticipation. A sudden groan of Nikaido’s name makes both of them jump a little. “And for that. Hope Nika-chan’s fucking him hard enough to feel it for a week.”

“You think Nika’s on top?” Senga asks curiously as he comes back and kneels between Fujigaya’s legs. Fujigaya raises an eyebrow at him as Senga uncaps the lube and warms some up on his fingers.

“You think Watta is?” he asks. They both listen for a second, but honestly Nikaido’s wailing could mean either thing. “Fuck, that brat is so loud, geez.”

“Should we be louder?” Senga asks as he rubs one slick finger against the edge of Fujigaya’s hole, teasing. He has no idea where all this courage is coming from suddenly, but Fujigaya leaning up on his elbows to watch him and if there’s one thing Fujigaya is, it’s competitive. “I was keeping quiet before, but I can be loud too.”

“Yeah?” Fujigaya lets his head tip back as Senga pushes in the first finger, rocking his hips lazily. “You want me to moan your name, Kento? Think you can make me scream?”

Even the thought has Senga’s cock twitching in anticipation, and if he adds the second finger a little quickly, that does get a noise out of Fujigaya, a low growl deep in his throat as he rocks his hips down against Senga’s fingers.

“Tell me how you like it best,” Senga says, just to keep talking, trying to distract himself. Fujigaya’s starting to harden a little, but he’s obviously got a long way to go to catch up to Senga. “Like this? Or should I roll you over? From behind?”

“Mmm, so many options.” Fujigaya’s eyes flutter shut, like he’s imagining them for himself, one hand tweaking his own nipple casually before trailing down, through the mess still on his stomach. “I did say I wasn’t moving…but you like that, right? You like watching me so much.”

“Fuck yes,” Senga breathes, fingering Fujigaya harder as he gets more impatient. Fujigaya spread out underneath him, limbs splayed, jerking himself off, maybe watching Senga’s cock slam deep into Fujigaya’s ass, maybe both of them watching… “Yeah, I want you like this. I want to fuck you so hard, Taipi.”

“Mm, do it,” Fujigaya encourages him, a positively filthy whisper that’s more arousing than anything on the other side of the wall, and Senga has the foresight to slather some more lube on his cock before he settles on top of Fujigaya. “And enjoy the show.”

Senga’s barely inside Fujigaya before the latter’s stretched out like a cat, reaching down to coil his fingers lightly around himself while his other hand trails lazily across his own chest. Fujigaya has no problem touching himself, it seems, which works out for Senga because he has no problem watching it. Even with Fujigaya’s body tight around him, getting used to the intrusion of his cock, Senga’s eyes are locked on the man beneath him.

“Come on,” Fujigaya says, rocking his hips a little bit. “Let’s beat them.”

Their neighbors are still going strong, approaching the end if Nikaido’s screeching is any indication, and Senga wastes no more time getting to it. He loops his arms around Fujigaya’s thighs and starts to move, snapping his hips without bothering to monitor the sounds that come out of his mouth. Fujigaya quickly becomes a hot mess, tugging on his cock as he grabs roughly onto his own flesh and lets out a beautiful moan with each thrust.

Suddenly the noises next door reach a peak and taper off, and all Senga can hear is Fujigaya and himself, their own noises escalating with each squeeze of Fujigaya’s body around his cock. He feels so good, and Senga tells him as much, becoming even more fueled by the dirty smile that forms on Fujigaya’s face as Senga speeds up, chilled by the cool sweat on his back.

He grabs Fujigaya’s hips to stay grounded, inadvertently changing the angle, and Fujigaya’s smile falls into an expression of pure ecstasy as he arches and doubles his efforts. “Oh, Kento, right there.”

Senga is so close, but he digs his fingers into Fujigaya’s skin even harder to try and hold back, thighs trembling as he fucks Fujigaya in exactly the right spot, Fujigaya’s voice rising to a piercing wail as Senga watches him come all over himself for the second time. It’s as much as Senga can take, and he pulls out just in time to fist himself to completion across Fujigaya’s stomach.

“Seriously?” Fujigaya asks, still panting for air, but the way he drags his fingers through both of their come doesn’t make it seem like he cares that much. He lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks his middle finger clean, humming at the taste of both of them. “Freak.”

“Says the guy who gets himself off to the noise his fucking bandmates make through the wall, not half a meter away from his group’s baby,” Senga retorts, looking Fujigaya over from wild hair to white-streaked belly to the way his hole his still clenching at air a little. It’s the hottest thing Senga’s ever seen; he feels like he might never jerk off to anything else ever again.

“Brat, I ought to make you clean up your mess,” Fujigaya says, stretching with his hands up over his head. Senga strikes like a cobra, tickling fingers all down Fujigaya’s sides just to watch him twist and shriek, slapping at Senga’s hands.

“OI!” Watta’s voice booms through the wall, making Senga freeze out of habit. Fujigaya just rolls his eyes. “Keep it down over there!”

“Fuck you, Watta!” Fujigaya hollers back. He raises an eyebrow at Senga. “I mean, you know, again, assuming Nika-chan’s up to it.”

“There’s no way Watta didn’t have him, I’m telling you,” Senga snickers. Suddenly heavy with sleep, he drops to curl against Fujigaya’s side before he remembers that maybe he’s not welcome over here for anything but what they just did, especially when it’s so hot. “Am I—”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya yawns, scrubbing lazily at his stomach with the edge of his yukata, and he even gives up on that effort halfway through. “Mm, wake me up if they go for round two, okay? We’ll kick their asses next time.”

“Definitely,” Senga agrees, rubbing his cheek against Fujigaya’s shoulder. There’s a lot of other ways he’s been thinking about Fujigaya, and more than one of them involve him in that mussed yukata, or at least his yukata tie.

When Senga’s eyes slip shut, he can practically see the whole thing.