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kinkfestTitle: If You Mean It.
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
allira_dream
Rating: NC17.
Warnings: Nothing.
Word count: 2200.
Summary: He's drunk. More than that, Hiroki knows that he's drunk enough that he doesn't care that he's drunk.
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
springkink: Junjou Romantica, Nowaki/Hiroki: The one time Hiroki really wanted it but Nowaki didn't - "I'm sorry, I'm just..."
If You Mean It.
Sunday, 3:30 am.
He's drunk. More than that, Hiroki knows that he's drunk enough that he doesn't care that he's drunk, which is dangerous, because usually when he's that drunk he rambles and does thing without thinking them through completely thoroughly and he rambles and did he say that already?
“Yes, Hiro-san.”
He blinks a bit looking up – and it seems up and up and up again – to Nowaki, who's smiling as well.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes, you did,” Nowaki says, and then the elevator door opens and they're moving, but Hiroki can't really move on a straight line.
“So I'm drunk.”
“Yes, Hiro-san.”
“Are you drunk? You don't seem drunk. You're usually cuddly when you're drunk. Are we cuddling?”
Nowaki doesn't laugh out loud, but Hiroki sees how his lips twitched, a tiny little thing that told him that he's close to laughing. He knows he's wasted when the thought, instead of irritating him, makes him feel glad.
“We're not cuddling, Hiro-san,” Nowaki adds. “And you need to go to bed.”
Bed. Now, that's a nice thought. It's been a hell of a week, with the research piling and piling and piling with class-work and Miyagi-sensei catching a cold from hell. He's barely been home at all during the last week unless it's for a quick bath and an even quicker change of clothes: the idea of finally, finally sleeping on his own bed sounds like Nirvana.
And Nowaki will be there. Warm and cuddly, his arms around him, breathing besides him. Nowaki's chest against his back, and his hands touching him. Perhaps Nowaki moving on top of him with that feline grace of his, eyes dark and mouth warm and smiling upon his kiss, against his neck, doing much more than just breathing.
And now he's thinking about other activities he also missed during this week and dammit if he wasn't drunk he'd have better self control for sure. But for now they've arrived to their apartment and Nowaki is struggling to open the door with only one hand, and right now it sounds like the best idea he has ever had to stand on his tiptoes and reach for Nowaki's neck and--
“Hiro-san!” Nowaki grabs him when he loses his balance, but since he's almost all dead weight they still tumble through the door, landing painfully on their sides since Nowaki tried to roll them over, not completely able to save the fall.
“Ow...”
“Are you okay, Hiro-san?” Nowaki asks, but Hiroki is already taking advantage of the fact that they're both sort of lying down, and it's easier for him to reach that spot in Nowaki's neck that makes him sigh and tilt his head back, easier for him to move close, to put a hand on Nowaki's side and....
“Hiro-san,” His name always sounds softer when Nowaki says it, different, and Hiroki sighs as he shifts to be closer, ignoring the harshnes of the floor, but then Nowaki is pushing him away. “You need to go to bed, Hiro-san.”
“Bed,” and that's a pleasant enough idea that he nods, somehow sitting down, but when Nowaki helps him to stand up and he's pressed against him again, Hiroki thinks that it's not important where, the couch would be just as fine.
Nowaki, however, pays no attention to him when he suggests this, just walking towards their room, still supporting Hiroki, and then he's helping him to bed, laying him down. Hiroki wraps his arms around his neck, hoping Nowaki to fall back to bed, perhaps on top of him. God, he loves the way Nowaki feels when he moves on top of him, and dammit he's has to be drunk for him to actually admit that, even to himself.
Nowaki, however, just breaths a laugh against his lips, his eyes warm and dark, but then he moves away.
“We should sleep, Hiro-san,” he says softly. “I'm going to take a bath, first. Do you need anything?”
And this is Nowaki actually rejecting him. Hiroki stares at him for a few moments before he manages to shake himself off from that.
“Yeah, drank too much,” he mutters, rolling over to face the wall. “Sorry.”
“Hiro-san?”
“Good night,” he says, hoping that his voice doesn't show up the rejection, and hoping twice as hard that he won't remember any of this come morning.
*
Sunday: 10:55 am.
Thankfully – or not – morning comes with a huge headache and nausea and his eyes refusing to open for more than what it's absolutely needed and with Nowaki being kind enough to have left water and aspirins nearby.
Sadly enough for him, he still remembers the sting of rejection, Nowaki pushing him away.
Somehow, that doesn't help him stop the nausea.
*
Tuesday: 22:03 pm.
“I don't have to work until the afternoon tomorrow, since I stayed extra hours,” Nowaki says.
“Hmm,” Hiroki murmurs, eyes still stuck on hi screen.
“And you don't have classes until noon, right? Due to the conference,” Nowaki asks.
“Hmm,” Hiroki murmurs, eyes still stuck on hi screen.
“Hiro-san, maybe we could--” Nowaki starts asking.
“Go to bed early? What a great idea!” Hiroki says, closing his laptop and putting it aside.
“...” Nowaki says, before he sighs. “Night, Hiro-san...”
*
Wednesday: 23:01 pm
Once you get a boyfriend, Hiroki thinks, and once you actually live with that boyfriend, he keeps on thinking, you really, really shouldn't have to jerk off into your toilet.
Fucking hell.
*
Saturday: 00:04 am
One of these days, Hiroki is going to kill Miyagi-sensei, and he's pretty sure he's going to get parole due to psychological stress. He could even say it was out of self defense, since the man is threteaning to drive him insane.
At least they finished the extra work more or less on time, even if he had to bail on Nowaki and dinner.
But when he comes to the apartment the lights are still on, the table is set and Nowaki fell asleep still wearing his clothes on, arms crossed underneath a pillow, breathing in and out slowly.
Knowing that he is practically alone Hiroki allows himself the soft smile that his fool of a boyfriend fell asleep waiting for him, and he goes back, puts the dishes away and the food in the fridge, and then he climbs to bed , curling as close to Nowaki as he can because while he has been trying to keep Nowaki from finding out how his rejection hurt, he has missed this, feeling this close to Nowaki, and right now it's absolutely safe.
Saturday: 05:14 am.
There's a warm tongue on his cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head, licking up the shaft. Hiroki moans, thrusting his hips up a little and then the mouth actually does open, sucking the tip of his cock into it, sucking softly. He moans again, arching, and it's only when he feels Nowaki's unmistakable hands on his hips and when his hand touches Nowaki's hair that Hiroki realizes that he's not having a dream.
“W-what do you think you're doing?!” Hiroki squeals, slapping the night light on – goddamit it's too early for this and he's still hard and--
“Hiro-san,” Nowaki murmurs, still down there, and not glaring but looking infinitely patient and if it wasn't ridiculous, Hiroki would say that he was pouting. “You've been avoiding me.”
“I have not!” And his voice is still sounding all high and off. Hiroki resorts to glaring some more. “And would you just come out of there?!”
“Do you really want that, Hiro-san?” Nowaki asks, his fingers still very much wrapped around his cock.
Yes, Hiroki's pride wants to say. Yes he does!
DON'T YOU DARE SAY 'NO' YOU BASTARD WE HAVEN'T HAD A PROPER ORGASM IN ALMOST TWO WEEKS, his cock, hormones and the rest of his body seems to be saying, so he bites his lip, trying not to think how good it feels that Nowaki is touching him, and how much he'd like it if they could go back to sucking his cock.
But Nowaki sighs, and looks at him sadly, not so brattish anymore.
“I wish you could tell me when you want something, Hiro-san,” Nowaki says, finally moving up but not away, instead straddling his thighs.
“I did!” He reaches to push Nowaki away, but Nowaki holds his hands and presses them against the mattress, leaning over him.
“Let me rephrase that. I wish you could tell me when you want something without being drunk, Hiro-san.”
At that he blushes and looks away, trying not to feel like a kid as he does so.
“But you didn't want to--”
“Yes, I did. Last week, Hiro-san,” Nowaki murmurs, setting more of his weight on Hiroki's thighs, and he swallows, feeling his blood rushing through him. “You were drunk. Really drunk. And you were about to fall asleep because of that and because you were exhausted. And I had been up for over thirty six hours. As much as I would have wanted to, we needed to rest.”
“W-Well yeah, but--”
“I'm rested now, you're rested now. I want you,” Nowaki says, and Hiroki splutters because it doesn't matter that they have been together for so many years, he still doesn't understand how Nowaki can say that sort of thing out loud without just self combusting. “Do you want me, Hiro-san?”
He flushes, feeling his throat close up when Nowaki leans closer, moving his hands until they close around his, moving them up, above his head. He swallows.
“I'm not going to answer something like that!”
“Hiro-san...” Nowaki sighs, leaning his head against his shoulder and he moves until he's completely covering him, his hand still holding unto his wrists. “I'm not going anywhere. You already tell me what you don't like. You can also tell me what you want...”
Hiroki thinks that there is no way he'd do something like that, absolutely not, but then he gasps as Nowaki's mouth opens against his neck, sucking gently, pressing forwards against him, getting him hard again. Nowaki keeps his hold on his wrists with one hand, then moving the other to stroke the side of his face, down his side, slipping down to his thigh and ass, and he pushes forward, friction against his hip even as Hiroki's breath catches in his throat, wishing that Nowaki would let go to touch him but not willing to do something as embarrassing as asking for that.
But Nowaki, the utter bastard, just kept on moving slowly, not enough that he'd be able to come like this, not enough friction, not enough anything on this.
“Tell me, Hiro-san,” Nowaki murmurs against his ear. “I'm yours, you know that. Just tell me what you want... do you want me to touch your cock? Blow you? Do you want me to keep on moving like this?”
He should have remembered that Nowaki could be the biggest brat that had ever existed when he wanted something. Hiroki whined as Nowaki kept on muttering suggestions against his ear, his cock as hard as his, Nowaki's hand moving between them, his thumb brushing against a nipple and then down over his stomach but never where he wanted it and fuck fuckity fuck--
“Suck me!” Hiroki yells, closing his eyes tight so that he doesn't have to see Nowaki's expression. “Suck me, please!”
Nowaki doesn't say a thing at that, for which Hiroki is thankful, but he's even more thankful for the fact that Nowaki moves down again, open mouth on his stomach, and then his warm, wet mouth is opening again for his cock, and Hiroki allows himself to open his eyes so that he can see how Nowaki's mouth is stretched by his cock, and he even dares to reach down, to fold his hands on Nowaki's hands and move with him.
*
Saturday: 13:21 pm
“And to think that Hiro-chan was late today,” Miyagi-sensei coos, fanning himself. Hiroki feels his teeth grinding against each other. “I was so worried about it, too! I said to myself 'Why! Something must have happened! Hiro-chan is never late! At least not without notice!'”
“It won't happen again, sensei,” he repeats for the nth-time, not turning to look at Miyagi-sensei. He hadn't meant to be late, but one thing turned into another, turned into Nowaki draped on his back as he told him how much he wanted him all the time, everywhere, Nowaki's voice making him hungry for more and more and more, then him riding Nowaki, flushing and sweaty and when they woke up the two of them were late for work.
His cellphone rings, alerting him that he has a text message, which is either Akihiko or--
I'll be home around 9 pm, hopefully. Should we have dinner together?
“Ooooh! Hiro-chan has a date!”
He types a fast 'yes', sending the text before he turns around to yell at Miyagi-sensei some more that his personal life is none of his concern.
Author/Artist:
allira_dreamRating: NC17.
Warnings: Nothing.
Word count: 2200.
Summary: He's drunk. More than that, Hiroki knows that he's drunk enough that he doesn't care that he's drunk.
A/N: Written for
springkink: Junjou Romantica, Nowaki/Hiroki: The one time Hiroki really wanted it but Nowaki didn't - "I'm sorry, I'm just..." If You Mean It.
Sunday, 3:30 am.
He's drunk. More than that, Hiroki knows that he's drunk enough that he doesn't care that he's drunk, which is dangerous, because usually when he's that drunk he rambles and does thing without thinking them through completely thoroughly and he rambles and did he say that already?
“Yes, Hiro-san.”
He blinks a bit looking up – and it seems up and up and up again – to Nowaki, who's smiling as well.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes, you did,” Nowaki says, and then the elevator door opens and they're moving, but Hiroki can't really move on a straight line.
“So I'm drunk.”
“Yes, Hiro-san.”
“Are you drunk? You don't seem drunk. You're usually cuddly when you're drunk. Are we cuddling?”
Nowaki doesn't laugh out loud, but Hiroki sees how his lips twitched, a tiny little thing that told him that he's close to laughing. He knows he's wasted when the thought, instead of irritating him, makes him feel glad.
“We're not cuddling, Hiro-san,” Nowaki adds. “And you need to go to bed.”
Bed. Now, that's a nice thought. It's been a hell of a week, with the research piling and piling and piling with class-work and Miyagi-sensei catching a cold from hell. He's barely been home at all during the last week unless it's for a quick bath and an even quicker change of clothes: the idea of finally, finally sleeping on his own bed sounds like Nirvana.
And Nowaki will be there. Warm and cuddly, his arms around him, breathing besides him. Nowaki's chest against his back, and his hands touching him. Perhaps Nowaki moving on top of him with that feline grace of his, eyes dark and mouth warm and smiling upon his kiss, against his neck, doing much more than just breathing.
And now he's thinking about other activities he also missed during this week and dammit if he wasn't drunk he'd have better self control for sure. But for now they've arrived to their apartment and Nowaki is struggling to open the door with only one hand, and right now it sounds like the best idea he has ever had to stand on his tiptoes and reach for Nowaki's neck and--
“Hiro-san!” Nowaki grabs him when he loses his balance, but since he's almost all dead weight they still tumble through the door, landing painfully on their sides since Nowaki tried to roll them over, not completely able to save the fall.
“Ow...”
“Are you okay, Hiro-san?” Nowaki asks, but Hiroki is already taking advantage of the fact that they're both sort of lying down, and it's easier for him to reach that spot in Nowaki's neck that makes him sigh and tilt his head back, easier for him to move close, to put a hand on Nowaki's side and....
“Hiro-san,” His name always sounds softer when Nowaki says it, different, and Hiroki sighs as he shifts to be closer, ignoring the harshnes of the floor, but then Nowaki is pushing him away. “You need to go to bed, Hiro-san.”
“Bed,” and that's a pleasant enough idea that he nods, somehow sitting down, but when Nowaki helps him to stand up and he's pressed against him again, Hiroki thinks that it's not important where, the couch would be just as fine.
Nowaki, however, pays no attention to him when he suggests this, just walking towards their room, still supporting Hiroki, and then he's helping him to bed, laying him down. Hiroki wraps his arms around his neck, hoping Nowaki to fall back to bed, perhaps on top of him. God, he loves the way Nowaki feels when he moves on top of him, and dammit he's has to be drunk for him to actually admit that, even to himself.
Nowaki, however, just breaths a laugh against his lips, his eyes warm and dark, but then he moves away.
“We should sleep, Hiro-san,” he says softly. “I'm going to take a bath, first. Do you need anything?”
And this is Nowaki actually rejecting him. Hiroki stares at him for a few moments before he manages to shake himself off from that.
“Yeah, drank too much,” he mutters, rolling over to face the wall. “Sorry.”
“Hiro-san?”
“Good night,” he says, hoping that his voice doesn't show up the rejection, and hoping twice as hard that he won't remember any of this come morning.
*
Sunday: 10:55 am.
Thankfully – or not – morning comes with a huge headache and nausea and his eyes refusing to open for more than what it's absolutely needed and with Nowaki being kind enough to have left water and aspirins nearby.
Sadly enough for him, he still remembers the sting of rejection, Nowaki pushing him away.
Somehow, that doesn't help him stop the nausea.
*
Tuesday: 22:03 pm.
“I don't have to work until the afternoon tomorrow, since I stayed extra hours,” Nowaki says.
“Hmm,” Hiroki murmurs, eyes still stuck on hi screen.
“And you don't have classes until noon, right? Due to the conference,” Nowaki asks.
“Hmm,” Hiroki murmurs, eyes still stuck on hi screen.
“Hiro-san, maybe we could--” Nowaki starts asking.
“Go to bed early? What a great idea!” Hiroki says, closing his laptop and putting it aside.
“...” Nowaki says, before he sighs. “Night, Hiro-san...”
*
Wednesday: 23:01 pm
Once you get a boyfriend, Hiroki thinks, and once you actually live with that boyfriend, he keeps on thinking, you really, really shouldn't have to jerk off into your toilet.
Fucking hell.
*
Saturday: 00:04 am
One of these days, Hiroki is going to kill Miyagi-sensei, and he's pretty sure he's going to get parole due to psychological stress. He could even say it was out of self defense, since the man is threteaning to drive him insane.
At least they finished the extra work more or less on time, even if he had to bail on Nowaki and dinner.
But when he comes to the apartment the lights are still on, the table is set and Nowaki fell asleep still wearing his clothes on, arms crossed underneath a pillow, breathing in and out slowly.
Knowing that he is practically alone Hiroki allows himself the soft smile that his fool of a boyfriend fell asleep waiting for him, and he goes back, puts the dishes away and the food in the fridge, and then he climbs to bed , curling as close to Nowaki as he can because while he has been trying to keep Nowaki from finding out how his rejection hurt, he has missed this, feeling this close to Nowaki, and right now it's absolutely safe.
Saturday: 05:14 am.
There's a warm tongue on his cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head, licking up the shaft. Hiroki moans, thrusting his hips up a little and then the mouth actually does open, sucking the tip of his cock into it, sucking softly. He moans again, arching, and it's only when he feels Nowaki's unmistakable hands on his hips and when his hand touches Nowaki's hair that Hiroki realizes that he's not having a dream.
“W-what do you think you're doing?!” Hiroki squeals, slapping the night light on – goddamit it's too early for this and he's still hard and--
“Hiro-san,” Nowaki murmurs, still down there, and not glaring but looking infinitely patient and if it wasn't ridiculous, Hiroki would say that he was pouting. “You've been avoiding me.”
“I have not!” And his voice is still sounding all high and off. Hiroki resorts to glaring some more. “And would you just come out of there?!”
“Do you really want that, Hiro-san?” Nowaki asks, his fingers still very much wrapped around his cock.
Yes, Hiroki's pride wants to say. Yes he does!
DON'T YOU DARE SAY 'NO' YOU BASTARD WE HAVEN'T HAD A PROPER ORGASM IN ALMOST TWO WEEKS, his cock, hormones and the rest of his body seems to be saying, so he bites his lip, trying not to think how good it feels that Nowaki is touching him, and how much he'd like it if they could go back to sucking his cock.
But Nowaki sighs, and looks at him sadly, not so brattish anymore.
“I wish you could tell me when you want something, Hiro-san,” Nowaki says, finally moving up but not away, instead straddling his thighs.
“I did!” He reaches to push Nowaki away, but Nowaki holds his hands and presses them against the mattress, leaning over him.
“Let me rephrase that. I wish you could tell me when you want something without being drunk, Hiro-san.”
At that he blushes and looks away, trying not to feel like a kid as he does so.
“But you didn't want to--”
“Yes, I did. Last week, Hiro-san,” Nowaki murmurs, setting more of his weight on Hiroki's thighs, and he swallows, feeling his blood rushing through him. “You were drunk. Really drunk. And you were about to fall asleep because of that and because you were exhausted. And I had been up for over thirty six hours. As much as I would have wanted to, we needed to rest.”
“W-Well yeah, but--”
“I'm rested now, you're rested now. I want you,” Nowaki says, and Hiroki splutters because it doesn't matter that they have been together for so many years, he still doesn't understand how Nowaki can say that sort of thing out loud without just self combusting. “Do you want me, Hiro-san?”
He flushes, feeling his throat close up when Nowaki leans closer, moving his hands until they close around his, moving them up, above his head. He swallows.
“I'm not going to answer something like that!”
“Hiro-san...” Nowaki sighs, leaning his head against his shoulder and he moves until he's completely covering him, his hand still holding unto his wrists. “I'm not going anywhere. You already tell me what you don't like. You can also tell me what you want...”
Hiroki thinks that there is no way he'd do something like that, absolutely not, but then he gasps as Nowaki's mouth opens against his neck, sucking gently, pressing forwards against him, getting him hard again. Nowaki keeps his hold on his wrists with one hand, then moving the other to stroke the side of his face, down his side, slipping down to his thigh and ass, and he pushes forward, friction against his hip even as Hiroki's breath catches in his throat, wishing that Nowaki would let go to touch him but not willing to do something as embarrassing as asking for that.
But Nowaki, the utter bastard, just kept on moving slowly, not enough that he'd be able to come like this, not enough friction, not enough anything on this.
“Tell me, Hiro-san,” Nowaki murmurs against his ear. “I'm yours, you know that. Just tell me what you want... do you want me to touch your cock? Blow you? Do you want me to keep on moving like this?”
He should have remembered that Nowaki could be the biggest brat that had ever existed when he wanted something. Hiroki whined as Nowaki kept on muttering suggestions against his ear, his cock as hard as his, Nowaki's hand moving between them, his thumb brushing against a nipple and then down over his stomach but never where he wanted it and fuck fuckity fuck--
“Suck me!” Hiroki yells, closing his eyes tight so that he doesn't have to see Nowaki's expression. “Suck me, please!”
Nowaki doesn't say a thing at that, for which Hiroki is thankful, but he's even more thankful for the fact that Nowaki moves down again, open mouth on his stomach, and then his warm, wet mouth is opening again for his cock, and Hiroki allows himself to open his eyes so that he can see how Nowaki's mouth is stretched by his cock, and he even dares to reach down, to fold his hands on Nowaki's hands and move with him.
*
Saturday: 13:21 pm
“And to think that Hiro-chan was late today,” Miyagi-sensei coos, fanning himself. Hiroki feels his teeth grinding against each other. “I was so worried about it, too! I said to myself 'Why! Something must have happened! Hiro-chan is never late! At least not without notice!'”
“It won't happen again, sensei,” he repeats for the nth-time, not turning to look at Miyagi-sensei. He hadn't meant to be late, but one thing turned into another, turned into Nowaki draped on his back as he told him how much he wanted him all the time, everywhere, Nowaki's voice making him hungry for more and more and more, then him riding Nowaki, flushing and sweaty and when they woke up the two of them were late for work.
His cellphone rings, alerting him that he has a text message, which is either Akihiko or--
I'll be home around 9 pm, hopefully. Should we have dinner together?
“Ooooh! Hiro-chan has a date!”
He types a fast 'yes', sending the text before he turns around to yell at Miyagi-sensei some more that his personal life is none of his concern.
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