Drievuldigheid - Drie Samen

Shuichi’s mind went blank; he froze so completely that when Ryuichi pulled back slightly, he had to gasp in a breath. He was gaping, eyes impossibly wide, but he didn’t fight the hold on him. The hands that had been gripping his hair unclench, sliding to cup the back of his head. When the thumbs pressed right beneath his ears, a tender point, his neck relaxed and his head tilted back.

Ryuichi smiled. The younger singer didn’t seem to have noticed that his eyes had slipped shut, that he was allowing the elder’s hands to support his head completely. He looked wholly trusting, and Ryuichi shifted closer, one of his knees pressing on the seat between Shuichi’s thighs where they had parted when he’d kissed him.

Feeling the weight shift, Shuichi’s eyes fluttered open—when had he closed them? His idol was barely a foot away, looking at him with a gentler expression than he’d ever seen. His legs were still curled up near his chest, but during the unexpected kiss they’d fallen apart, the older singer moving in between them. He straightened them, and repositioned himself so his back was fully against the wall behind him. Ryuichi’s hands didn’t release his head, so the singer moved with him, straddling on of his thighs and keeping them mere inches apart—but not touching. He wanted more contact…but he was so, so confused. Why had Ryuichi questioned him, seemed so angry about Tohma, only to kiss him? And why was he looking at him like that? His body told him that he wanted something with the idol, his other fantasy, but his mind told him he couldn’t—if only for that very reason. He was his other fantasy. He’d slept with Tohma already—and seen how that turned out. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice…even if it was with two different people.

But the selfish, juvenile part of his mind rebelled. Sakuma-san was completely different from Seguchi-san. Ryuichi was different from Tohma. Who knew what would happen between them? It might be different than with the keyboardist. Of course, nothing had happened with the keyboardist—beyond the obvious, of course—and was the singer really all that different from Tohma? He didn’t really know either of them well enough to judge.

Ryuichi watched the thoughts play across the younger boy’s face. He was incredibly transparent—he was hurt over Tohma, but didn’t really know what he wanted. But the idol did know what he wanted, and decided to help Shuichi make up his mind. “You don’t have to think so hard.”

His voice was gently teasing, the comment said as if he knew what he was thinking and sympathized. He looked at him helplessly. “Ryuichi…I…” His voice trailed off as he realized he had no clue what he wanted to say.

“Come with me?” It was a question, so utterly different from the usual childish demands…or when he was just dragged off without a choice. Hesitantly, he nodded. The child-like grin reappeared for a second, and he and Kumagoro were grabbed and led out of the quiet building onto the bustling streets of Tokyo.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They entered a quiet, cool main room. It was tasteless, but a little sparse. As he glanced around, Ryuichi noticed his bewilderment. The singer chuckled and led him further in, down a side hallway. He walked slowly, examining the walls; once they’d gotten out of the living room, personal touches were obvious. Pictures covered the walls: Nittle Grasper photos, shots of him and Noriko. Most common—really, they were everywhere!—were the photographs of Tohma and Ryuichi. Some were promotional pictures, but most were personal—they further proved that he knew much less than he’d even realized about the two men.

“Shuichi.” Ryuichi leaned against a doorframe, watching him; he realized he’d stopped to stare at the images. He turned to look at the idol, but wanted to drop his eyes, hide from the man who seemed so unfathomable.

“Shuichi.” He called his name again, holding out his hand. The younger was so flustered, so shy here. It was endearing, but the protective urges Ryuichi was feeling were too much… especially so soon. The younger tentatively reached his own hand out, and the idol gripped it securely, walking backwards until Shuichi was nearly in his bedroom.

On the threshold, he halted, looking yet again as if he were going to run. Ryuichi smirked again, and pulled sharply at their joined hands. Shuichi was yanked forward as he lost his footing and fell; Ryuichi twisted and slammed the door shut behind him as he crashed into it, all of the younger’s weight rested against him.

“Gomen, Ryuichi! I didn’t mean to…” His apologies were silenced by the two fingers pressed against his lips.

“I meant for you to.” He sounded smug again, he knew it, but it was so much fun, how simple Shuichi was to manipulate—so different from Tohma, who had always been a challenge.

Pressed flush against the warm body, Shuichi felt his conscience begin to slip to the wayside. His tongue flicked out, lightly tasting the fingers pressed against his open mouth. Ryuichi was watching him, and he let him draw the fingers into his mouth, suckling lightly. He didn’t mean it as innuendo—he was tracing the digits to explore their taste.

They slid out of his mouth and delicately traced his eyelids, which flickered shut. Then, lips replace the wet pads of the fingers, and kisses almost impossibly light were brushed over his face until they found his mouth. He tried to kiss Ryuichi back, but the lips came and went so quickly, so gently that they were gone before his mouth could move—they taunted and teased, offering, promising, but never quite providing.

Nittle Grasper’s vocalist heard the frustrated growl a mere second before Shuichi’s entire body straightened; they were so close in height that all he had to do was slam Ryuichi back against the door and he could kiss him, but the older vocalist refused to grant his assailant access to his mouth. Desperate kisses pressed themselves against his closed lips, followed by a tracing tongue. He couldn’t help a smile, and the younger pulled away.

“You’re heartless!” It was meant to come out as a reprimand, but sounded like a whine.

“I’m as cruel as Tohma, in my own way.” He smiled, brushing another butterfly kiss along the other’s jaw. “How did you think we dealt with each other?”

Knowing that the younger boy would let himself be side-tracked again by thoughts of what he was doing and what he had done because of his comment, Ryuichi pushed at Shuichi, who stumbled until his knees found the bed and he fell backwards. Sprawled, very undignified, on the satiny sheets, Shuichi sat up to yell at Ryuichi.

Dropping himself down over the boy, he cocked his head at his expression—he was very clearly pissed off… and had no idea how gorgeous that made him. His hands moved of their own volition, removing his shirt in an easy movement that he knew had gotten his soon-to-be lover’s attention, because he heard the gulp. He leaned down and kissed him, simple and direct, then sat back. “Clothes off~”

The sing-song, juvenile order made him blink. Why did the man change so quickly? And every time the older man acted so infantile, he always seemed… complacent? “You’ve been teasing me!”

The accusation, yelled out as if born of a genius revelation, made him smile again. He reached over and forcefully yanked off the other’s shirt, since he was too busy leaning back on his hands and looking wounded. “Yep! Gomen, Shu-chan, it’s just so much fun!” He saw the other catch the sarcasm immediately this time, and the mouth that he caught was smiling wryly.

Ryuichi wasn’t childish, no, but he was still utterly adorable. He was evilly sweet: he’d been taunting Shuichi all evening, but only for amusement; he made sure to reassure the younger about his every concern, but mocked him as he did it. Paradoxically kind, he wasn’t done tormenting Bad Luck’s singer.

He was finally really kissing Shuichi. But even as hands scrambled to undo the clasps on pants, he refused any other contact between them. Needy, Shuichi arched up, but Ryuichi’s body, on all fours above him, shifted away. He complained into the kiss, but the elder’s mouth consumed it. He wriggled out of his own pants, and his hands reached towards Ryuichi’s, expecting to be denied. Happily, they weren’t, and the vocalist even complied by twisting out of them.

Unfortunately, Shuichi still couldn’t get any contact with the other’s body. Kisses trailed over his neck, jaw and cheeks, but when he tried to stroke his hands over the man’s shoulders and back, they were caught and pinned. Finally, he gathered up his remaining willpower, channeled it through his frustration and irritation at being denied, and managed to yank himself out from under Ryuichi. He rolled partially away, then wrapped himself around the other—shortly, the other singer was pinned and Shuichi was glaring down at him. “Why do you keep making things progress, but you’ll get me all worked up and leave it there?” He was definitely griping.

“You just said it yourself—I keep making things progress.” Ryuichi wondered idly whether he’d get it the first time through.

“Then why do you stop at –“ He broke off, understanding dawning in his gaze.

“I’m not going to be a regret, Shuichi.” It was a warning… and a promise. Shuichi felt himself smiling, truly smiling at the words, and he dropped his body down onto Ryuichi’s.

Their mouths fed at each others’, and Shuichi gasped for breath when they finally parted. “I… want to top.”

“Alright.” The purr was back in the voice, thick as sin, and he was given a bottle. He blinked at the bottle for a second; it was that simple? He’d acquiesced that easily?

“It’s a type of thick oil—it warms and tingles… much more interesting that regular lube.” The last comment was added with a wicked hum. Shuichi realized he thought he’d been wondering what the bottle was—although now that he looked at it, it was a little strange.

“Close your eyes? Don’t open them?” He didn’t want the other to see what he was doing.

A moment of silence; then, compliance. “If you like.” Something in his voice was peculiar, but Shuichi didn’t stop to think about it.

He poured the oil on his hand; when it overflowed, it dribbled down over the cock underneath him; the hiss from between Ryu’s teeth sounded nearly pained, but Shuichi was glad to see his eyes remained closed. Reaching around behind himself, he slid two fingers inside. He’d never tried prepping himself; wondered if, if he did it himself, he could get anywhere near as relaxed as Tohma had made him. He thought, distantly, that Ryuichi probably would be just as good, but he didn’t want the idol to know what he was doing. He wanted to see how far he could take it.

When he added a third finger, he kept himself from tensing; finding the bundle of nerves inside, he stroked it, letting out his own his. He didn’t know if he was ready; hadn’t known whether or not he was ready with Tohma, and hadn’t known how Tohma had known. But Ryuichi was writhing under him, curiosity and desperation wearing his patience thin.

Then, Shuichi moved over him and let his body lower itself. Ryuichi’s eyes snapped open as he began to slip in, and his hands gripped his hips; the younger was grateful, because his body was shaking from lust and how tense his muscles were as he lowered himself little by little. “I… thought I told you to… close your eyes.” It hadn’t managed to sound severe… he was panting too hard, and every exhale held a whimper.

“I thought you wanted to top.” Ryuichi said in return; his voice was a hiss, and Shuichi knew he was fighting wanting to thrust up into his body.

“I am… topping. I’m just… also… receiving!” On the last word, he let himself fall, collapsing completely against the vocalist’s chest, the other completely sheathed. Ryuichi pulled him into a kiss, and the little breath he’d had to waste on speech was gone. His body moved, hips rolling and undulating, cries surging until he called out his lover’s name, and was caught and held in comforting arms when his body gave out, sticky and warm on top of his idol. He was snug against the other’s body, and so very, very tired.

Ryuichi carefully maneuvered Shuichi until he was nestled in his side, cuddled up and breathing lightly. Reaching over to his bedside table, he picked up his phone.

“Toh-chan? Come to my room as soon as you can after you’re doing working, alright?” He left the message, glad that the keyboardist would be leaving work within a few moments. With luck, Shuichi would still be asleep when Tohma arrived. Sighing contentedly, he settled himself back around the other body and waited.