Proof In Your Moves (D.Gray-man, Allen/Rabi)

[allira-dream.livejournal.com]

Title: Proof in Your Moves.
Author/Artist: allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: AU – The one in which they're a rock band.
Word count: 1900.
Summary: Allen says: 'I like the collar. You should keep it'. Rabi thinks: Why the hell not.
A/N: D.Gray-Man, Allen/Rabi: collars - the clues to you and I are not so easily defined.

Proof in Your Moves.

The collar is for the photo shoot. Rabi laughs long and hard when he first sees it, then quickly putting it around his neck, his grin almost falling off his face.

“Is my name Fido from now on?” he asks, giving a too cheerful bark a Linali, taking advantage that Komui's not there. She giggles and reaches to pat his hair, still laughing as she coos at him, saying 'there's a good boy'.

“No,” Reever answers with a long suffering sigh. “But it's the recurring motif on the new wardrobe.”

Linali's new boots have the collar-like up high, around her thighs, hugging close to her legs. Kanda, who would wear black jeans and shirt every single day, has a new leather trench coat with a double buckle belt that's gonna give the fans (and him) many shiny dreams. Crowley has them on his gloves, something simple that doesn't embarrass him too much, and Allen has his two belts, slung low around his hips (thank you, Johnny).

“It looks cool,” Rabi agrees, standing up to look at himself on the mirror, picking up the hat (a pimp hat; he owed Johnny something big) he's going to wear for the shoot just to get the whole effect of the tattered jeans, the black-also-threading shirt, of the silver cross hanging low around his neck and now the collar.

Reever sighs again. “Okay. Linali, go see if you need a retouch; you're next. Rabi, no destroying your clothes: after your photos are done, we're having the whole group's shoot.”

“I told you, it wasn't my fault those groupies came in!” Rabi complains, but it falls in deaf ears a Reever opens the door for Linali to walk out. Rabi turns again towards his reflection, fixing his eyepatch and then he's completely surprised when there are hands on--

Allen smiles at him through the mirror, then turns to look at the back of his neck. He's undoing the collar, but before Rabi can complain, he's tightening it a little: it's not much, just tight enough that Rabi can feel it when he swallows, and boy does he swallow as he looks at Allen's smile.

“I like the collar,” Allen says, his tone ever so nice and sweet as if he was just commenting on the weather, proper British boy as if his hands weren't still over his neck or the fact that Rabi has seen him play cards.

Suddenly, keeping his clothes intact seem like such a task for Rabi. He still grins, though, lazy and content as Allen leans against his bicep, his hair soft and coat warm.

“You do, huh?”

“I do,” Allen agrees before pushing away, going towards the door, his white coat around him. “You should keep it.”

And that's all he says before Reever comes back, says that it's now his turn and that Allen should stay near, too, because they're taking the pictures for the whole group as soon as his pictures are done and then they need to go to the studio and finish their new song.

*

Kissing Allen after they've been playing feels like electricity running down his back: Allen is always dazzling, but after a show he's buzzing with adrenaline and sweat and smiles and just sheer need: it makes Linali laugh, Crowley to throw them pillows and Kanda always threatens to rat them out to the paparazzi if they keep on making out when he's present, but half of the time it's hard for Rabi to pay much attention to it. Besides, they're careful to only do so where they won't get discovered. (The closet counts).

Even though today they stayed at the studio, Allen is still trembling, excited and happy and it takes Rabi far too much control to wait until they're back inside their room before he's kissing him, Allen's arms around his neck and pressing close, one gloved hand on the back of his head and the other one--

Rabi gasps a little as Allen tugs at the collar he has kept, breaking apart of the kiss to look at Allen. He's grinning, just a tad impishly, a little bit uncertain but still daring. Rabi laughs as he leans close, stealing another kiss.

“You really like that, huh?”

“Do you mind?” Allen asks.

Rabi pretends to think about it as he pulls them away from the door. Allen's so fair that it seems as if he's blushing, even as he sits down on the bed and Allen does that so-very-illegal half crawl-looming to sit on his lap, one finger still hooked on the ring of the collar, tugging a little. Rabi moves his hands to Allen's thighs and up, feels his ass and Allen rocks against him. He can't throw his head back like this because Allen's grip on his collar doesn't let him, but he can't erase the shit-eating grin off his face.

“Can't say I do,” he says finally, and then Allen's leaning against him, pressing him down over the bed, and Rabi moans as Allen's tongue slips between his lips, as Allen rocks against him again, his free hand moving over his sides and down to take a fistful of his shirt.

They break off the kiss just enough to take off his jersey and then Allen's mouthing at the curve of his neck, just below the collar, but Rabi can feel him tonguing beneath it and he moans again, making himself get enough coordination to start undoing the buttons of Allen's shirt (and one day he was going to make Allen see that it was pure sadism to use buttons for this), getting distracted halfway there when Allen mouthed at his nipple, teeth tugging a little at his piercing there.

“Fuck, Allen,” Rabi moaned, running his hands over Allen's skin beneath the shirt – the bumps of his back, the skin on his side, even the rough texture of his left arm when he touches Allen's shoulder. Allen smiles against his chest before he looks at him.

“You want to?”

“What?” Allen rocks against him, then, and Rabi shudders once more when he feels Allen's cock through his slacks pressing against him. He nods and tries to finish with Allen's shirt while at the same time opening his jeans. “Fuck, yes.”

Allen's hand sneaks to his collar again and tugs, just once.

“Stay,” Allen says, a hint of shyness in his face but the mirth wins there, something like laughter in Allen's gaze as Rabi freezes in confusion. “Good boy.”

And then Allen's sliding off him slowly: his tongue laps at his piercing again once but then he's moving lower and did he just...?

Rabi laughs, head thudding against the mattress. The brat.

“Tease,” Rabi calls, leaning over his forearms; Allen's eyes are a flash of silver as he looks up, but he keeps on going: his mouth teases at his navel and then at his hip, deft, clever fingers work open his belt and jeans and Rabi lifts his hips for Allen to tug them down.

He moans in relief now that his cock is free, and then groans as he sees Allen tugging off the glove of his right hand with his teeth, licking at his palm before he wraps his hand around his cock, jerking him off slowly, too slowly, just teasing.

Rabi complains: “Alleeeen,” licking at his lips. Allen is so close to his cock that he can feel his breathing on it, and he's never been the patient sort.

But Allen just laughs a little, and then he leans down, opens his mouth to take his cock in and Rabi curses in thanks, head thrown back to breathe, swallowing and feeling the way his adam's apple presses against the collar.

Allen keeps a hand pressed to the side of his hip, his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he takes him down. Rabi moans again and does his best not to thrust, moans again as Allen's tongue cradles him and for a moment he almost giggles when he thinks about what their fanbase would say if they knew that Allen's 'golden throat' works for more than just hitting fucking C's whenever he wants.

And his mouth is wet and lush, tongue teasing at his length and then Allen moving up, sucking gently at the head and Rabi curses, again. When he manages to look at Allen again, he sees that Allen has let go of his cock, and there's no mistake over where his hand is.

“Wait,” Rabi asks, and he's hanging to his self control with his fingernails, but he moves a hand to touch Allen's head.. “I wanna taste you too, please, please.”

Allen let's go of him and his lips are shiny with spit. He's breathing heavy, and then he licks his lips and Rabi almost whimpers before Allen nods, standing up.

His slacks are undone so he just pushes them down, and Rabi sits down long enough to mouth at his chest, at his collarbone, finishing with the shirt – ignoring the tie, can't be bothered – before Allen tugs at his collar again, giving him a half grin.

“Down,” Allen half orders, and Rabi whines against his chest before he plops down, hitching himself a little higher on the bed.

The younger teen kneels on the bed, close to his head. Rabi moves a hand up his thigh when there seems to be a moment of hesitation and then Allen grins – his gigs grin, the one that makes teenagers everywhere shudder and moan and wet themselves and it took longer for Allen to top him before Rabi's mouth was opening for his cock, Allen's hair soft between his thighs as he took the head in his mouth again.

And it was easy as anything like this, like breathing or having an impromptu jamming session – they breathed and they moved together and Allen hummed around his cock, one of his hands playing with his balls. Rabi shudders and moans, then moves a hand to the small of Allen's back to pull him in deeper, and he feels the way his goosebumps go all over his back.

It takes no time at all for him to taste salt – it's constantly like this, with the adrenaline and music running high – and Rabi withdraws a little, enough to focus on the head only, twirling his tongue around it and pressing to the slit and then Allen's coming, spilling in his mouth, and that was all he needed to come, too.

When he opens his eye and the world had stopped spinning, Allen is curled on his side, head against his hip. Rabi grins, still too lazy to try and turn over, but he does reach to stroke Allen's hair. Allen hums with pleasure, eyes still closed but curling closer, his smile pleased.

And something about the way he's curled like that makes Rabi grin and say something he was sure Allen was gonna make him pay and he could hardly wait:

“You'd make a pretty good dog yourself, y'know?”