[sho/nino, nino/ofc] put it back together
Dec. 22nd, 2011 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
songbirdspeaksTitle: Put it back together
Fandom: Johnny's & Associates (Arashi)
Pairing/Groups: Sakurai Sho/Ninomiya Kazunari, Ninomiya Kazunari/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2000
Summary: Sho and Nino in Hawaii.
Notes: Written for a smut meme like a year ago.
The sun is a little bright; Sho shifts around and ends up reaching around blindly for his sunglasses so he can at least make out the words on the glossy pages of TIME Magazine. He manages to blow through the five pages he'd set out to read when they came downstairs fairly quickly, and looks up. "This was a good interview," he compliments, "Mister 'International Star Number One'."
"I know," answers Nino, flashing a grin at him from under his sunglasses (they're too stylish to be Nino's, and besides Nino doesn't much care for sunglasses, he loses them too often, they're probably stolen from Yoko, his manager) and the wide umbrella Sho has moved out from in a stubborn reminder of the fact that they're in Hawai'i, what was the point of going on vacation if he didn't get a tan. Sho rolls his eyes, laughing, and tosses the magazine on the sand to reach for the sunblock so he can re-apply (again).
"You're gonna get yours soon enough, Mister 'New Face of Economics'," he points out, "you make economics sexy and cool. And entertaining, if I do say so."
Sho shrugs; his television persona isn't quite him, (Sakurai Sho, the face of Mad Money, would probably marry the stock market, if it were possible. Sakurai Sho the man has a little more fondness for people. Though if he could marry the stock market…) but enough people think so that they keep watching. Sho and Nino had started out together, a wannabe paper economist in a dead-end town and a stage actor who hadn't gotten a role in months, making tracks on weekday soaps and guesting on Sunday afternoon money news and now, an international star and a the face of a fast-paced personal finance show. Sho considers how things change from shitty apartments in Osaka and crappier apartments in Kyoto to Hawai'i for on-location shoots (like Sho has been doing all damn week) and production meetings for films (which is what Nino's been working on).
"I wanna go inside," comments Nino between sips of his beer. To most people, this would probably be secret code for 'let's go back to our hotel room and have sex'. For Nino, this means 'let's go back to our hotel room so I can play video games and you can go check your stocks again'. Sho grabs a handful of sand and flings a little of it toward Nino's lap.
"No," he answers, "you do that enough!"
"Nu-uh," answers Nino, petulant around a smirk, "you were complaining about no reception for your iPhone like ten minutes ago, you probably want to call Murakami and ask if you've made any money again."
That much is kind of a little bit maybe true, but Sho feels like wanting to call one's stock broker and pester him about his investments is a perfectly legitimate desire! What if he doesn't have enough money to get home because the stock market has crashed while he wasn't looking? What if there was a natural disaster that ruined his investment in the Hokkaido time-share?!
Nino stands up and threatens to pour the last of his beer on Sho's head. Sho, trying to get away, slips off of his chair, cursing when his elbow lands in the sand, and then Nino is in his chair, sipping at his beer like he belongs there, stretched out indolently on Sho's beach chair.
Sho sits up, shaking sand out of his hair, brushing it off of his shoulders and his knees. He's eyeing his elbow when Nino's fingers land on his head and rub. Sho looks up, eyebrows raised, and Nino's hand slides to the back of his neck, playing in the hair at the nape of Sho's neck, and he leans forward. Sho swallows, nervous because uh Nino people can see us what are you doing only to realize Nino is… stealing his sunglasses--"Nino!" he complains, and then Nino is sliding the sunglasses he stole from Yoko on his nose.
Nino grins. "Now can we go up to the room?" he asks, sweetly, eyes dark over the rim of his own sunglasses.
Sho shifts around uncomfortably, his cock pressing suddenly against the rough inside of his swim trunks. He swallows again as Nino runs his tongue over his lip, slowly. "Sure," he manages, "I need to call Shingo." He chooses Shingo's first name carefully.
Nino makes a face, momentarily, mouth screwed up like Sho has said something about kicking puppies or something. Sho feels momentarily bad, but then the very awkward situation in his shorts occurs to him.
"I'm gonna… hop in the water first," he declares, tossing the sunglasses back at Nino and slipping to his knees, his feet, sliding across the sand a bit, and finally dives face first into the water. Abruptly he remembers to hold his breath, but he's a beat too late and surfaces, hacking. He can hear Nino cackling at him, and curses under his breath as he makes his way back to the chairs and wraps his towel firmly around his waist. He sees Nino eyeing him around his half-hearted attempts to avoid littering, and stretches with a grunt, running his fingers through his hair and shaking the wet off of his body in a manner not unlike a dog.
They make it to the elevator before Nino steps in against him and kisses him, hand seeking across Sho's chest, across his stomach to make his muscles jump, and roughly into his trunks, fisting his cock and tugging roughly. His mouth is rough, too, tongue sliding against Sho's and seeking, seeking, always seeking. Sho responds by grabbing his ass and hauling him higher against him. He's close, breath coming short against Nino's ear, the heat and hardness of Nino's cock trapped in his loose jeans pressing firmly against his hip as they move together, when the elevator dings in warning, and they separate smoothly. Nino exits first, looking unconcerned, and unlocks his corner room with grace. Sho is fumbling with his keycard, missing the slot once or twice before managing to push it in, and he stumbles into his room, dropping his towel and beach bag outside the door. The fact that there's a connecting door between their rooms is a secret; Sho throws the door open now and advances on Nino, eyes dark.
Nino, in a marked reversal from before, lets him shove him back against the bed, lets him run his fingers down his chest, leaving a trail of opened buttons in his wake, lets him tug at his clothes and slide his jeans off. He helps get his boxers off and makes a noise, uncomfortable and needy, when Sho begins to jerk him off, one hand cradling his balls and the other sliding up and down his length. He grunts in impatience and begins to tug at the drawstring of Sho's trunks, pulling at it. "Hurry up," he hisses.
Sho nods, breath stuttering over his lips, and rustles around in the sheets for the strip of condoms and the lube. He slides his trunks off in one long motion and leans back over Nino, slick fingers pushing against his entrance and sliding past that first glorious ring of muscle and pressure. Nino pushes at him, annoyed, but he takes his time, first one finger, then two, then three. At three he considers drawing things out, but Nino's giving him that look he gets right before Sho finds a bucket of wet flour dumped over his head as he enters his private office, so Sho slides on the condom and slicks it up, pushing inside. Nino is tight, but not painfully so, and Nino hauls him down by the arm for a wet, open-mouthed kiss, hands seizing in his hair and running over his cheeks. Sho pulls his face back for a moment, and stills; they take a silent moment and share breath, eyes meeting, before Nino pointedly wiggles his hips. Sho laughs, obliging in earnest now, leaning on his elbow and tracing patterns all over Nino's throat as he struggles to control himself, to draw this one moment out one second later, to keep them in this place. Nino whines when his hand closes around his cock and slides, bursting between them. Sho isn't a moment later, pushing in as far as he can go and releasing in a long shudder. He pulls out, ties the condom off and tosses it into the trashcan beside the bed, and lies down next to Nino.
"Hand me the towel," says Nino, breath coming back to him.
Sho hums in ascent, and sits up, rifling through Nino's bag at the foot of the bed for the towel (which, like his swim suit, he rarely sees a need to actually use) and takes a moment to clean Nino off. He balls up the towel and tosses it into the pile of laundry near the dresser. He settles back, rolling over and pressing his face into Nino's hair. Nino's hand settles on his back, scratching aimlessly, as their hearts slow down.
They spend the rest of the afternoon and the evening like that, until Sho's phone jumps with text messages from Murakami and Taichi and Murakami's friend, Aiba the Zoo Keeper (that's all Sho knows him as anyway). Nino sits up, then, and works his way through the beginning of Mass Effect 2 again, speaking along with the familiar opening dialogue and creating a character he claims looks just like Sho-chan but that Sho thinks looks more like a gorilla and besides the hair's too long you ass.
The don't have sex again that night, but they don't get dressed, either, hands lingering on hips and backs and arms. Sho makes Nino put on a robe when he signs for the room service, but Nino sheds it again as he balances the tray on the blankets and steals half of Sho's pasta.
The next morning, phone rings; Nino groans, reaching out of the covers and cradling it to his ear. "Hello," he says, managing to sound awake.
"Hi, honey," she says, and he sits up hurriedly, pushing the blankets away.
"Hey, babe, what's up?" he says, "aren't you supposed to be asleep right now?"
"I just missed you," she murmurs.
"I'll be home soon," he promises, "how's my baby girl~?"
"Fine," she says, "says she misses daddy. When does these meetings end?"
"Soon," he answers, "two more days, babe."
"I know," she says, "I love you."
"Love you too."
Two more days, he hums, hanging up and looking down at Sho's face on his pillow. Two more days, and then back to red carpet parties and a baby girl calling his name and filming and pretending to be somebody else, always pretending to be somebody else. "Sho," he says, "wake up."
Sho makes a sound that sounds roughly like 'nnnngh', and forces himself up on his elbows. "What is it?" he asks, before Nino forces him over, leg swinging over Sho's and hands tugging in his hair. Sho makes a noise of surprise before his hands settle on Nino's hips. Nino's rough, tugging at Sho's lip a bit and his tongue aggressive as he ducks inside. Sho grunts when Nino's hand pulls a little too hard at his hair, and he pulls away, taking a deep breath. "What is it?" he repeats, fingers moving over Nino's cheeks.
"Nothing," says Nino, "just… nothing."
Sho has known him too long, known him too well in dark spaces and secrets, to be fooled by that; he ignores the aching feeling deep in his chest and settles for kissing Nino again, pushing him over and settling on top of him, tugging away the blankets still between them.
Fandom: Johnny's & Associates (Arashi)
Pairing/Groups: Sakurai Sho/Ninomiya Kazunari, Ninomiya Kazunari/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2000
Summary: Sho and Nino in Hawaii.
Notes: Written for a smut meme like a year ago.
The sun is a little bright; Sho shifts around and ends up reaching around blindly for his sunglasses so he can at least make out the words on the glossy pages of TIME Magazine. He manages to blow through the five pages he'd set out to read when they came downstairs fairly quickly, and looks up. "This was a good interview," he compliments, "Mister 'International Star Number One'."
"I know," answers Nino, flashing a grin at him from under his sunglasses (they're too stylish to be Nino's, and besides Nino doesn't much care for sunglasses, he loses them too often, they're probably stolen from Yoko, his manager) and the wide umbrella Sho has moved out from in a stubborn reminder of the fact that they're in Hawai'i, what was the point of going on vacation if he didn't get a tan. Sho rolls his eyes, laughing, and tosses the magazine on the sand to reach for the sunblock so he can re-apply (again).
"You're gonna get yours soon enough, Mister 'New Face of Economics'," he points out, "you make economics sexy and cool. And entertaining, if I do say so."
Sho shrugs; his television persona isn't quite him, (Sakurai Sho, the face of Mad Money, would probably marry the stock market, if it were possible. Sakurai Sho the man has a little more fondness for people. Though if he could marry the stock market…) but enough people think so that they keep watching. Sho and Nino had started out together, a wannabe paper economist in a dead-end town and a stage actor who hadn't gotten a role in months, making tracks on weekday soaps and guesting on Sunday afternoon money news and now, an international star and a the face of a fast-paced personal finance show. Sho considers how things change from shitty apartments in Osaka and crappier apartments in Kyoto to Hawai'i for on-location shoots (like Sho has been doing all damn week) and production meetings for films (which is what Nino's been working on).
"I wanna go inside," comments Nino between sips of his beer. To most people, this would probably be secret code for 'let's go back to our hotel room and have sex'. For Nino, this means 'let's go back to our hotel room so I can play video games and you can go check your stocks again'. Sho grabs a handful of sand and flings a little of it toward Nino's lap.
"No," he answers, "you do that enough!"
"Nu-uh," answers Nino, petulant around a smirk, "you were complaining about no reception for your iPhone like ten minutes ago, you probably want to call Murakami and ask if you've made any money again."
That much is kind of a little bit maybe true, but Sho feels like wanting to call one's stock broker and pester him about his investments is a perfectly legitimate desire! What if he doesn't have enough money to get home because the stock market has crashed while he wasn't looking? What if there was a natural disaster that ruined his investment in the Hokkaido time-share?!
Nino stands up and threatens to pour the last of his beer on Sho's head. Sho, trying to get away, slips off of his chair, cursing when his elbow lands in the sand, and then Nino is in his chair, sipping at his beer like he belongs there, stretched out indolently on Sho's beach chair.
Sho sits up, shaking sand out of his hair, brushing it off of his shoulders and his knees. He's eyeing his elbow when Nino's fingers land on his head and rub. Sho looks up, eyebrows raised, and Nino's hand slides to the back of his neck, playing in the hair at the nape of Sho's neck, and he leans forward. Sho swallows, nervous because uh Nino people can see us what are you doing only to realize Nino is… stealing his sunglasses--"Nino!" he complains, and then Nino is sliding the sunglasses he stole from Yoko on his nose.
Nino grins. "Now can we go up to the room?" he asks, sweetly, eyes dark over the rim of his own sunglasses.
Sho shifts around uncomfortably, his cock pressing suddenly against the rough inside of his swim trunks. He swallows again as Nino runs his tongue over his lip, slowly. "Sure," he manages, "I need to call Shingo." He chooses Shingo's first name carefully.
Nino makes a face, momentarily, mouth screwed up like Sho has said something about kicking puppies or something. Sho feels momentarily bad, but then the very awkward situation in his shorts occurs to him.
"I'm gonna… hop in the water first," he declares, tossing the sunglasses back at Nino and slipping to his knees, his feet, sliding across the sand a bit, and finally dives face first into the water. Abruptly he remembers to hold his breath, but he's a beat too late and surfaces, hacking. He can hear Nino cackling at him, and curses under his breath as he makes his way back to the chairs and wraps his towel firmly around his waist. He sees Nino eyeing him around his half-hearted attempts to avoid littering, and stretches with a grunt, running his fingers through his hair and shaking the wet off of his body in a manner not unlike a dog.
They make it to the elevator before Nino steps in against him and kisses him, hand seeking across Sho's chest, across his stomach to make his muscles jump, and roughly into his trunks, fisting his cock and tugging roughly. His mouth is rough, too, tongue sliding against Sho's and seeking, seeking, always seeking. Sho responds by grabbing his ass and hauling him higher against him. He's close, breath coming short against Nino's ear, the heat and hardness of Nino's cock trapped in his loose jeans pressing firmly against his hip as they move together, when the elevator dings in warning, and they separate smoothly. Nino exits first, looking unconcerned, and unlocks his corner room with grace. Sho is fumbling with his keycard, missing the slot once or twice before managing to push it in, and he stumbles into his room, dropping his towel and beach bag outside the door. The fact that there's a connecting door between their rooms is a secret; Sho throws the door open now and advances on Nino, eyes dark.
Nino, in a marked reversal from before, lets him shove him back against the bed, lets him run his fingers down his chest, leaving a trail of opened buttons in his wake, lets him tug at his clothes and slide his jeans off. He helps get his boxers off and makes a noise, uncomfortable and needy, when Sho begins to jerk him off, one hand cradling his balls and the other sliding up and down his length. He grunts in impatience and begins to tug at the drawstring of Sho's trunks, pulling at it. "Hurry up," he hisses.
Sho nods, breath stuttering over his lips, and rustles around in the sheets for the strip of condoms and the lube. He slides his trunks off in one long motion and leans back over Nino, slick fingers pushing against his entrance and sliding past that first glorious ring of muscle and pressure. Nino pushes at him, annoyed, but he takes his time, first one finger, then two, then three. At three he considers drawing things out, but Nino's giving him that look he gets right before Sho finds a bucket of wet flour dumped over his head as he enters his private office, so Sho slides on the condom and slicks it up, pushing inside. Nino is tight, but not painfully so, and Nino hauls him down by the arm for a wet, open-mouthed kiss, hands seizing in his hair and running over his cheeks. Sho pulls his face back for a moment, and stills; they take a silent moment and share breath, eyes meeting, before Nino pointedly wiggles his hips. Sho laughs, obliging in earnest now, leaning on his elbow and tracing patterns all over Nino's throat as he struggles to control himself, to draw this one moment out one second later, to keep them in this place. Nino whines when his hand closes around his cock and slides, bursting between them. Sho isn't a moment later, pushing in as far as he can go and releasing in a long shudder. He pulls out, ties the condom off and tosses it into the trashcan beside the bed, and lies down next to Nino.
"Hand me the towel," says Nino, breath coming back to him.
Sho hums in ascent, and sits up, rifling through Nino's bag at the foot of the bed for the towel (which, like his swim suit, he rarely sees a need to actually use) and takes a moment to clean Nino off. He balls up the towel and tosses it into the pile of laundry near the dresser. He settles back, rolling over and pressing his face into Nino's hair. Nino's hand settles on his back, scratching aimlessly, as their hearts slow down.
They spend the rest of the afternoon and the evening like that, until Sho's phone jumps with text messages from Murakami and Taichi and Murakami's friend, Aiba the Zoo Keeper (that's all Sho knows him as anyway). Nino sits up, then, and works his way through the beginning of Mass Effect 2 again, speaking along with the familiar opening dialogue and creating a character he claims looks just like Sho-chan but that Sho thinks looks more like a gorilla and besides the hair's too long you ass.
The don't have sex again that night, but they don't get dressed, either, hands lingering on hips and backs and arms. Sho makes Nino put on a robe when he signs for the room service, but Nino sheds it again as he balances the tray on the blankets and steals half of Sho's pasta.
The next morning, phone rings; Nino groans, reaching out of the covers and cradling it to his ear. "Hello," he says, managing to sound awake.
"Hi, honey," she says, and he sits up hurriedly, pushing the blankets away.
"Hey, babe, what's up?" he says, "aren't you supposed to be asleep right now?"
"I just missed you," she murmurs.
"I'll be home soon," he promises, "how's my baby girl~?"
"Fine," she says, "says she misses daddy. When does these meetings end?"
"Soon," he answers, "two more days, babe."
"I know," she says, "I love you."
"Love you too."
Two more days, he hums, hanging up and looking down at Sho's face on his pillow. Two more days, and then back to red carpet parties and a baby girl calling his name and filming and pretending to be somebody else, always pretending to be somebody else. "Sho," he says, "wake up."
Sho makes a sound that sounds roughly like 'nnnngh', and forces himself up on his elbows. "What is it?" he asks, before Nino forces him over, leg swinging over Sho's and hands tugging in his hair. Sho makes a noise of surprise before his hands settle on Nino's hips. Nino's rough, tugging at Sho's lip a bit and his tongue aggressive as he ducks inside. Sho grunts when Nino's hand pulls a little too hard at his hair, and he pulls away, taking a deep breath. "What is it?" he repeats, fingers moving over Nino's cheeks.
"Nothing," says Nino, "just… nothing."
Sho has known him too long, known him too well in dark spaces and secrets, to be fooled by that; he ignores the aching feeling deep in his chest and settles for kissing Nino again, pushing him over and settling on top of him, tugging away the blankets still between them.
