[nagase/leader/gussan] moments on clock
Dec. 22nd, 2011 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
songbirdspeaksTitle: Moments on clock
Fandom: Johnny’s and Associates (TOKIO)
Pairing: Nagase/Yamaguchi/Joshima
Rating: R
Word count: ~1400
Warnings: Threesome, fairly PWP, screwy timeline, angst
Summary: Gussan knows, even if Joshima doesn’t believe him. And Nagase’s just there to translate.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
basil_ovelby as a bribe tactic. XD
3 A.M.
They fuck, and it burns when Nagase pushes into him. Joshima’s trembling above him, white-knuckled around Gussan’s shoulders as he presses back to impale himself on Gussan’s cock, and he tosses his head back with a low, tight groan until he can feel the rough brush of Nagase’s stubble on his forehead.
"Move," he says, and that’s enough for Nagase to tip them all forward in a move that makes Joshima flail and squeak, caught under Gussan’s weight.
"God damn it Tomoya!" Joshima complains, and Nagase laughs, a sound that booms in the silence of the room, and then he moves and Gussan cries out. Joshima cries out, too, the drive of Nagase’s hips pushing Gussan further inside him, and then it’s like everything slows down but for the way Gussan feels, the way Joshima looks with his head tossed to one side in ecstasy, and Nagase’s fingers digging into his hip.
His orgasm is a thrumming in the small of his back, a shudder and slide up his spine to where it buzzes in his head, and Joshima cries out and tightens around him and it’s like the ball of tension in the front of his skull comes pouring out, because he follows after, a wracking of his body and a shout from the core of him.
And he leans forward, leaning his lips against Joshima’s cheek, heartbeat thundering in his ear and the heat of Nagase still—still inside him—breaks him back to reality, and he realizes Nagase’s pulled out, hears the tell-tale sound of hand sliding over dick and then there’s sticky warm wetness all over his ass. He kind of has to laugh, and Nagase thwaps fingers against his thigh in response. He wiggles away—"you’re not leaving it like that," he informs Nagase, voice rough, and Nagase grumbles about unappreciative assholes as he lopes off to go to the bathroom.
Joshima’s still trembling beneath his arm, and he cards his fingers over his hair until he stills, face pressed into Gussan’s shoulder. When Nagase comes back, a (cold) wet towel falls on Gussan’s back, making him shift around to glare, and Nagase hauls Joshima up by the arm. Joshima goes, willing, sliding his leg over Nagase’s hip, and Gussan cleans up in silence.
He lets himself out after he wrings the towel out in the bathroom sink.
2 A.M.
They’re sitting too far apart, on either end of Joshima’s couch while Nagase does a bad job pretending not to listen on the chair in the corner by Joshima’s guitar collection.
"I don’t understand," Joshima says, staring at the table.
Gussan doesn’t really understand either, doesn’t know when Joshima went from just being that something they don’t talk about and he himself started being a part of it.
"I know," he says.
"You didn’t even tell me in person. You just left me an invitation with breakfast. To your wedding. To a woman," Joshima says.
"I know," he says.
"Do you?" asks Joshima, his voice quiet, but it echoes in the four walls of the room and in Gussan’s chest, like a rock crushing the breath from his lungs.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't know," Gussan finds himself saying, and that’s enough for Nagase, apparently, because he gets up and crosses the room, throws himself between them on the couch.
"What the fuck," he says," finally, "what the fuck."
"Eloquent," says Joshima, his face kind of covered by Nagase’s arm so it’s muffled.
"Elu-what?" asks Nagase, "are you making fun of me? I mean shut up. I mean don’t shut up. What the fuck are you two doing? Spit it out already! Yeah he got married yesterday, but you’re still pretty gay for each other. Obviously. I mean you’re always gay. Obviously. But he’s pretty gay for you, too. He’s just lucky he found a girl willing to ignore it."
"Tomoya!" Joshima squawks, "we’re not talking about this."
"That’s your problem! You, talk." He leans over and spears Gussan with a finger in the arm.
"…I am pretty gay for you," Gussan finally says, in a very small voice.
"Yes, well, that’s lovely and all but you’re married and I’m not going to—to—" Joshima can’t even say it.
"Spit it out, Shige."
"I’m not going to let you fuck me into next week!" Joshima finally spits out, "your wife is so nice…"
"Yeah, but she’s missing a vital piece of equipment," Nagase says, and Gussan should probably punch him for the sleazy grin and the wiggle of his eyebrows but he’s right, and his hand is on the inside of Gussan’s thigh so he’s a little distracted.
"So," says Nagase, "as it stands, I’m pretty gay for Leader myself." He says it with the biggest smirk Gussan’s ever seen on him, and Joshima punches him in the arm for it, but Gussan kind of nods.
"And unlike Gussan here I didn’t get my ass hitched, so any and all ‘inappropriate activities’ are still allowed. But I’m a pretty fair guy, Gussan, so you can get your one last goodbye. With me, uh, overseeing."
Joshima’s quiet, which means yes, and Gussan didn’t know how much he wanted it until he realizes there’s heat slow-burning in his chest, and he reaches up to seize his fingers in Nagase’s hair and pull him down for a kiss that’s a slow slide of tongues and Nagase’s hands sliding over his belly, curling under his shirt and around his hip to pull him closer.
"Tomoya," Joshima says, quiet and small, and they both hear him, turning.
"Bedroom," Nagase surmises, and Joshima nods, eyes dark and somber.
1 A.M.
"Shige--oi, Shige--open up!"
Gussan is tired. And drunk, probably, not that it matters. He leans his forehead against the wood of Joshima's front door, and breathes.
The door swings open, and he almost tumbles onto the floor of Joshima's genkan, but he grabs for the doorframe and manages to catch himself.
"Shige…" he begins, and has to look up and catch Nagase’s eye.
"Nagase, what the fuck," he begins, and Nagase hauls him in by the arm. He does trip, then, and lands on the floor, cursing, while Nagase locks the door. He sits up, holding his head and blinking. Nagase’s leaning on the door, arms crossed over his chest.
"Back for a pity fuck, Gussan?" he asks, and his voice booms in the hallway.
"No. That's not it," Gussan begins, desperately, but how is he supposed to-
"Oh?" Nagase crouches, pressed back on his heels and elbows leaned on his arms, "then what are you here for?"
"To—to talk," Gussan croaks, fingers tightening on the flooring.
Nagase’s leaned forward and is tugging Gussan’s shoes off, clumsy fingers on the laces, and looks up, clicking his tongue. "Lame," he says.
"…Tomoya?" from the other room, and Nagase looks up.
"Shige, go back to sleep," he calls, and Gussan’s back straightens.
"Why are you calling him Shige?" he asks, brow pulled down.
Nagase looks up from tugging at his shoelaces. "Why wouldn’t I?" he asks, conversationally, what’s it matter to you ringing in Gussan’s ears.
"Let me talk to him," Gussan says, trying to get up, but Nagase’s got a hand tight around his ankle and he stops, looks down the line of his shin.
"Depends," says Nagase, "what are you planning on saying?"
Gussan shifts around. "Sorry, maybe," he says.
"We can just be the same as before?" offers Nagase in his best Gussan voice, which is a ridiculous impression at best and downright ludicrous right now.
"Fuck you," Gussan says.
"No, fuck you," Nagase says, and there’s venom in it Gussan doesn’t expect.
"…Tomoya, what’s going on?"
"…Shige," says Gussan, and Nagase’s hand is still tight around his ankle, pulsing tight-loose-tight-loose in a slow rhythm on his leg so he can’t even move.
There’s silence behind for a long moment, and he turns his head to see Joshima, fingers tight in a fist. He’s never looked smaller—or bigger, really, and that’s kind of a weird thing to think, right, that he’s simultaneously so so small, shoulders sloped like defeat, but something in the tense line of his arm that makes him seem too big for Gussan to confront.
Fandom: Johnny’s and Associates (TOKIO)
Pairing: Nagase/Yamaguchi/Joshima
Rating: R
Word count: ~1400
Warnings: Threesome, fairly PWP, screwy timeline, angst
Summary: Gussan knows, even if Joshima doesn’t believe him. And Nagase’s just there to translate.
Notes: Written for
basil_ovelby as a bribe tactic. XD3 A.M.
They fuck, and it burns when Nagase pushes into him. Joshima’s trembling above him, white-knuckled around Gussan’s shoulders as he presses back to impale himself on Gussan’s cock, and he tosses his head back with a low, tight groan until he can feel the rough brush of Nagase’s stubble on his forehead.
"Move," he says, and that’s enough for Nagase to tip them all forward in a move that makes Joshima flail and squeak, caught under Gussan’s weight.
"God damn it Tomoya!" Joshima complains, and Nagase laughs, a sound that booms in the silence of the room, and then he moves and Gussan cries out. Joshima cries out, too, the drive of Nagase’s hips pushing Gussan further inside him, and then it’s like everything slows down but for the way Gussan feels, the way Joshima looks with his head tossed to one side in ecstasy, and Nagase’s fingers digging into his hip.
His orgasm is a thrumming in the small of his back, a shudder and slide up his spine to where it buzzes in his head, and Joshima cries out and tightens around him and it’s like the ball of tension in the front of his skull comes pouring out, because he follows after, a wracking of his body and a shout from the core of him.
And he leans forward, leaning his lips against Joshima’s cheek, heartbeat thundering in his ear and the heat of Nagase still—still inside him—breaks him back to reality, and he realizes Nagase’s pulled out, hears the tell-tale sound of hand sliding over dick and then there’s sticky warm wetness all over his ass. He kind of has to laugh, and Nagase thwaps fingers against his thigh in response. He wiggles away—"you’re not leaving it like that," he informs Nagase, voice rough, and Nagase grumbles about unappreciative assholes as he lopes off to go to the bathroom.
Joshima’s still trembling beneath his arm, and he cards his fingers over his hair until he stills, face pressed into Gussan’s shoulder. When Nagase comes back, a (cold) wet towel falls on Gussan’s back, making him shift around to glare, and Nagase hauls Joshima up by the arm. Joshima goes, willing, sliding his leg over Nagase’s hip, and Gussan cleans up in silence.
He lets himself out after he wrings the towel out in the bathroom sink.
2 A.M.
They’re sitting too far apart, on either end of Joshima’s couch while Nagase does a bad job pretending not to listen on the chair in the corner by Joshima’s guitar collection.
"I don’t understand," Joshima says, staring at the table.
Gussan doesn’t really understand either, doesn’t know when Joshima went from just being that something they don’t talk about and he himself started being a part of it.
"I know," he says.
"You didn’t even tell me in person. You just left me an invitation with breakfast. To your wedding. To a woman," Joshima says.
"I know," he says.
"Do you?" asks Joshima, his voice quiet, but it echoes in the four walls of the room and in Gussan’s chest, like a rock crushing the breath from his lungs.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't know," Gussan finds himself saying, and that’s enough for Nagase, apparently, because he gets up and crosses the room, throws himself between them on the couch.
"What the fuck," he says," finally, "what the fuck."
"Eloquent," says Joshima, his face kind of covered by Nagase’s arm so it’s muffled.
"Elu-what?" asks Nagase, "are you making fun of me? I mean shut up. I mean don’t shut up. What the fuck are you two doing? Spit it out already! Yeah he got married yesterday, but you’re still pretty gay for each other. Obviously. I mean you’re always gay. Obviously. But he’s pretty gay for you, too. He’s just lucky he found a girl willing to ignore it."
"Tomoya!" Joshima squawks, "we’re not talking about this."
"That’s your problem! You, talk." He leans over and spears Gussan with a finger in the arm.
"…I am pretty gay for you," Gussan finally says, in a very small voice.
"Yes, well, that’s lovely and all but you’re married and I’m not going to—to—" Joshima can’t even say it.
"Spit it out, Shige."
"I’m not going to let you fuck me into next week!" Joshima finally spits out, "your wife is so nice…"
"Yeah, but she’s missing a vital piece of equipment," Nagase says, and Gussan should probably punch him for the sleazy grin and the wiggle of his eyebrows but he’s right, and his hand is on the inside of Gussan’s thigh so he’s a little distracted.
"So," says Nagase, "as it stands, I’m pretty gay for Leader myself." He says it with the biggest smirk Gussan’s ever seen on him, and Joshima punches him in the arm for it, but Gussan kind of nods.
"And unlike Gussan here I didn’t get my ass hitched, so any and all ‘inappropriate activities’ are still allowed. But I’m a pretty fair guy, Gussan, so you can get your one last goodbye. With me, uh, overseeing."
Joshima’s quiet, which means yes, and Gussan didn’t know how much he wanted it until he realizes there’s heat slow-burning in his chest, and he reaches up to seize his fingers in Nagase’s hair and pull him down for a kiss that’s a slow slide of tongues and Nagase’s hands sliding over his belly, curling under his shirt and around his hip to pull him closer.
"Tomoya," Joshima says, quiet and small, and they both hear him, turning.
"Bedroom," Nagase surmises, and Joshima nods, eyes dark and somber.
1 A.M.
"Shige--oi, Shige--open up!"
Gussan is tired. And drunk, probably, not that it matters. He leans his forehead against the wood of Joshima's front door, and breathes.
The door swings open, and he almost tumbles onto the floor of Joshima's genkan, but he grabs for the doorframe and manages to catch himself.
"Shige…" he begins, and has to look up and catch Nagase’s eye.
"Nagase, what the fuck," he begins, and Nagase hauls him in by the arm. He does trip, then, and lands on the floor, cursing, while Nagase locks the door. He sits up, holding his head and blinking. Nagase’s leaning on the door, arms crossed over his chest.
"Back for a pity fuck, Gussan?" he asks, and his voice booms in the hallway.
"No. That's not it," Gussan begins, desperately, but how is he supposed to-
"Oh?" Nagase crouches, pressed back on his heels and elbows leaned on his arms, "then what are you here for?"
"To—to talk," Gussan croaks, fingers tightening on the flooring.
Nagase’s leaned forward and is tugging Gussan’s shoes off, clumsy fingers on the laces, and looks up, clicking his tongue. "Lame," he says.
"…Tomoya?" from the other room, and Nagase looks up.
"Shige, go back to sleep," he calls, and Gussan’s back straightens.
"Why are you calling him Shige?" he asks, brow pulled down.
Nagase looks up from tugging at his shoelaces. "Why wouldn’t I?" he asks, conversationally, what’s it matter to you ringing in Gussan’s ears.
"Let me talk to him," Gussan says, trying to get up, but Nagase’s got a hand tight around his ankle and he stops, looks down the line of his shin.
"Depends," says Nagase, "what are you planning on saying?"
Gussan shifts around. "Sorry, maybe," he says.
"We can just be the same as before?" offers Nagase in his best Gussan voice, which is a ridiculous impression at best and downright ludicrous right now.
"Fuck you," Gussan says.
"No, fuck you," Nagase says, and there’s venom in it Gussan doesn’t expect.
"…Tomoya, what’s going on?"
"…Shige," says Gussan, and Nagase’s hand is still tight around his ankle, pulsing tight-loose-tight-loose in a slow rhythm on his leg so he can’t even move.
There’s silence behind for a long moment, and he turns his head to see Joshima, fingers tight in a fist. He’s never looked smaller—or bigger, really, and that’s kind of a weird thing to think, right, that he’s simultaneously so so small, shoulders sloped like defeat, but something in the tense line of his arm that makes him seem too big for Gussan to confront.
