#onedayk - Friday, Feb 19, 2016
theme: idols

Note: NSFW. Completely pointless smut. Now with idols.


The magazines talked about 'chemistry on-stage', producers talked about 'synergy', and Fushimi had heard various members of Scepter 4 use the word 'harmony', but just from that, he wasn't sure if any of them had a clue what it was actually like in the 'reunion' performances he gave with Misaki, after everything.

Maybe 'harmony' had been a good way to put it back when they were the rising teen duo, Small World, but things were entirely different now.

He didn't really know how to best describe the spark that would strike up even before the concert began - stronger than nerves or any kind of excitement - like fire starting in the pit of his belly. He could take that energy onto the stage and it would ignite, fueled and amplified by the answering flame he could see burning in Misaki whenever their eyes met or their voices strung together in perfect sync.

This time was no exception.

And then Misaki looked at him like that after their second encore, eyes fierce and grin almost predatory, bare chest heaving against the open edges of his button-up shirt, sweat dripping along the edge of his forehead, and the familiar edge of desire snaked in alongside everything else.

Not every concert ended like this, but... most of them did.

That was why he wasn't surprised when Misaki slammed him against the door of his own dressing room once inside, barely leaving time for Fushimi to flip the lock before they were all over each other, lips and tongue mingling harsly - sloppily - as Misaki's hips jerked against his, his fingers mapping the sweat-slicked planes of Fushimi's stomach.

There was no point resisting that kind of energy; in situations like this, it was easier to shut down the parts of his brain that still instinctively wanted to hold back. They'd done it too many times for that, anyway. Fushimi grabbed handfuls of Misaki's ass and tugged him up and in, the unmistakeable hard lump of Misaki's erection grinding against his leg.

Misaki moaned into his mouth, not bothering to moderate his volume, shamelessly thrusting into the contact as his thumbs found Fushimi's nipples and ran rough circles around them. The twin spikes of sensation, skirting the edge between pleasure and discomfort, pulled a helpless little sound from Fushimi's mouth. His own fingers dug into the thick fabric of Misaki's shorts, and he ground his hips back against the hard, lithe body pressed up to his.

Some fanzine would have a field day with this...

That thought was fleeting. Misaki grabbed handfuls of his button-up shirt, tugging him back into the room and then reaching up to shuck both that and the jacket off of Fushimi's shoulders, which meant he had to let go of Misaki's ass - but that was made up for when Misaki's fingers were fumbling with his fly, tugging it from the artfully just-open position to fully open and giving his erection a little relief from confinement. He returned the favor, acceping Misaki's increasingly harsh and desperate kisses as they struggled to remove the last barriers of clothing.

Misaki's cock was quite prominently displayed through the standard-issue briefs, the head of it damp and sticky when Fushimi ran his thumb over it, palming and squeezing the shaft with just enough enthusiasm to draw a shuddering gasp from his partner's mouth.

"Come on," Misaki mumbled urgently against his mouth, tugging roughly at the waist of Fushimi's pants. "Come on, come on... You have lube, right?"

He couldn't help the way his lips quirked at that, even as he freed himself of both pants and briefs. "What, you didn't plan ahead?"

"I never fucking plan this shit, it just - mmm - " Misaki didn't seem to mind being cut off, if the way he tongued the line of Fushimi's bottom lip was any indication. "Mmnn... it... it just... happens... goddamnit, you have it, right?"

That hazy, lidded glare was setting Fushimi's brain on fire; he took hold of Misaki's naked hips and brought their bodies back into contact, pulling moans from both of them. "I have it." One incredibly frustrating post-concert session was enough to motivate him to make a point of having it, no matter what. He definitely did not want a repeat. "Under the rug."

That throw rug was another 'make a mistake once' purchase; bruising his knees wasn't pleasant or particularly easy to explain away. He'd gotten a few irritatingly knowing looks from Munakata for that.

Never again.

Misaki's shoulders relaxed. "Good..." He braced a hand at the back of Fushimi's neck and leaned in to bite the fleshy part of his ear, tongue darting out along the edge of it. His voice had noticeably deepened when he spoke again, the low vibration of it making Fushimi shudder. "Good... fuck... yeah, let's do it. Come on."

That was a demand he wasn't about to refuse - not at this point, anyway. "Mm."

They fumbled their way onto the rug, nearly falling - that had happened a time or two in the past - and then Misaki was tugging him down roughly, wrapping his legs around Fushimi's hips and bringing their naked bodies back into contact. The familiar mingled heat and friction drew a breathy moan from him, pleasure clouding his senses and vision blurring out a little even before Misaki reached up, the sexiest little smirk on his face as he plucked off Fushimi's glasses and set them off to the side.

He was close enough that his sight wasn't too badly blurred, but he still narrowed his eyes in return, shifting his weight back on his knees and tugging Misaki's hips up so he'd have access to the lower half of his body.

Misaki's cock was flushed and swollen, leaking a little at the top, and Fushimi gave in to the urge to run his fingers over it, slicking the precum at the head with his thumb and stroking down firmly to watch Misaki's head tip back and his mouth fall open. He took his time running his fingers down along the stretched skin over Misaki's balls before drawing back and reaching over under the edge of the rug.

"Fuck..." Misaki's voice was breathy and fervent; he looked up through narrowed eyes, face flushed with desire as Fushimi slicked his hand thoroughly. He shifted, hips tilting up, legs spreading further, and Fushimi took that moment to slide his fingers between the crack of Misaki's ass, seeking and finding the familier puckered entrance.

They did this often enough that he didn't need to be too careful. Fushimi started with two fingers, relishing Misaki's little swear and the way his leg muscles tightened. His inner muscles, too, clamped down in insinctive defense before relaxing again at the promise of pleasure, and Fushimi wiggled the digits reflexively before pulling back to add the third.

Misaki was panting, fingers clenching in the rug; he glared up at Fushimi. "I'm... fine, goddamnit... quit fooling around! Put it in already, for fuck's sake!"

It was a bit of a turn on when he got demanding, not that Fushimi was going to admit it. "If you say so," he murmured, pulling back to slick his hand again before running it languidly over his own cock, gritting his teeth against the spike of sensation and focussing on coating it thoroughly before leaning forward and lining himself up, making sure to make eye contact before pushing forward into the tight warmth of Misaki's body.

The rush when they joined like this was almost blinding. Fushimi's fingers trembled with the effort of not tightening up too much on Misaki's thigh; they couldn't afford to leave any kind of mark and risk being outted. His breath caught and stuttered in his throat, pleasure surging through what felt like every nerve ending on his body.

Misaki's low groan was approving; his eyes were shut and mouth open, breathing uneven as Fushimi sank in to the hilt. There was a thin trail of fluid leaking from the head of his cock, and Fushimi took that as a cue to wrap his hand around it, giving two hard strokes that had Misaki gasping and moaning without restraint, his body tightening up deliciously. Leaning forward to brace himself above his flushed partner, Fushimi thrust forward, drawing out helpless sounds from both of them as the catch and slide of friction worked its magic.

Look at me. "Misaki..." It came out low and urgent, but Fushimi didn't particularly care about that right then, shifting Misaki's hips up for a better angle and feeling the pleasure in his body spike up dangerously as Misaki's body spasmed in response, his knees squeezing Fushimi's shoulders as he gasped. "Open... your eyes..."

The stuttered request got an immediate response; Misaki's eyes slid open and he stared heatedly back, pupils blown wide and gaze clouded with pleasure. "Saruhiko," he growled back, bracing his arms against the rug and pushing himself up to meet Fushmi's next thrust, hitting the timing just perfectly and sending hot shivers through them both.

Misaki managed to smirk at him through the rush, and Fushimi couldn't help but return it, caught up in heat and sensation and that nameless, indescribeable connection between them, carried over from the stage. Their voices blended together here too, little wordless cries and moans and whimpers of pleasure - the most painfully sweet melody they could create.

This wasn't going to last much longer - it was always hard and fast when it started like this. Fushimi could feel the tension building in his lower body; that rush for completion was mirrored in the way Misaki's hands fisted against the rug, his legs and hips urging Fushimi on faster and harder as he strove for his peak, teeth clenched and eyes burning with want. "Saruhiko..." he moaned again, back arching. "I... fuck..."

That was all the warning he got before Misaki's body clenched up with his orgasm, cock jerking in Fushimi's hand as hot fluid spurted from the tip and he let out a stuttered series of gasping moans. Fushimi only just managed to grit out a tense, shaky, "Mi...saki..." before the combination of visual stimulation and the throbbing heat around his own dick had him tipping over the edge as well, curling up over Misaki's still twitching body and shaking with the intense, rhythmic beats of pleasure.

There was a moment of silence punctuated by harsh, uneven breathing as they came down together.

They were out of sync, but it was still good - a counterpart to the melody from earlier. Fushimi gazed down at the slightly blurred image of his partner, eyelids partially lowered and weariness seeping through every little corner of his body, and got a weary grin in return, clear evidence of a satiation that matched his own. Misaki wriggled beneath him, shifting forward so that Fushimi's softening cock slid free and then reaching up to brace a hand at the back of Fushimi's neck, pulling him down quite firmly so that their mouths could meet in a sloppy, lethargic kiss.

He couldn't feel the rhythm of Misaki's heartbeat, but he was sure it beat in perfect counterpart to his own, a private performance that couldn't be challenged by the roar of a crowd or on-stage chemistry.