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Insatiable

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Hidaka isn't gay. He sure as hell doesn't go around kissing guys, because that's a really gay thing to do, and when Nishijima tried to sneak one up on him as they came, giggling and fumbling with the door card and for-fuck's-sake-keep-it-down-Uno-chan-and-Chiaki-chan-are-right-next-door, back to the hotel room earlier, he just smacked him upside the head.

Then they went to bed and fucked like rabbits, because that isn't gay, just a couple of slightly drunk, horny buddies helping each other work off some tension.

He's nicely relaxed and drowsy now - he loves how good sex always seems to work every pent-up kink out of the spine of his brain - and he remembers that girl once who could do the best damn things with her mouth, but she keeps changing into Nishijima when he tries to picture her, and that's probably because the guy insists on snuggling up to him at that moment like he's trying to work his way out the other side, but whatever. It's kind of nice, cozy or something, and he doesn't know exactly when the musky male tang of his bed partner's sweat in his nose started to seem so natural.

Hidaka gropes for Nishijima's arm, closed-eyed against the dim light from the billboard across the street that arcs an electronic wash of color across the room at intervals, and pulls it around him, feeling, rather than seeing, his smile against his temple. They lay like that for a while, playing with each other's fingers, until Nishijima's hips twitch, and his lips find their way to Hidaka's ear to murmur, "Dacchan..?"

"Mm?"

"... wanna go again..?"

Hidaka gives a small snort. "Man, don't you get tired?"

"Nope. Never. 'm indefatigable. You have to make me."

"Thought I made you already."

Nishijima's hand leaves his and slides lower, teasing him back to life. "That was a starter."

"Oh, yeah..?"

"Oh, yeah..."

Seeing as they've already screwed with Nishijima sitting in his lap, Hidaka figures a change is as good as a rest, and rolls him onto his back to his bandmate's accompanying soft grunt of anticipatory pleasure. As always, he feels vaguely uncomfortable once he's done it, because this is way intense, getting right up in each other's faces, and just for a second it stirs within him the feeling that they're doing something that he doesn't want to use the words for. It moves, is there, is gone, and he uses the brief search for the lubricant and another condom as an excuse to break Nishijima's gaze.

Nishijima hitches his legs up, stroking the back of Hidaka's thigh with his ankle. Fuzzy scratch of hair there instead of the silkiness of a girl, and maybe it's the shock of the difference that makes it more exotic and erotic, or maybe it's pure Nishijima. When Hidaka starts to enter him, he says, "Oh -" and then, "Oh, yeah," again, and laughs breathlessly in sheer, raw delight as he wraps one arm around Hidaka and braces the other on the bed so he can push back, strong and slender and wiry beneath him. He's so damned eager and inviting that Hidaka feels like he could let it all go, that Nishijima could pull something right out of the core of him, and he jerks his hips hard when he's all the way in, almost wanting to finish before the unthinkable happens.

He licks his fingers and rolls each of his bandmate's pert pink nipples between them in turn, reaches under and thumbs the head of his cock where it's rubbing against his own belly, leaving it slippery with more than just his saliva. Nishijima's hand moves from his biceps to fist in his hair, and Hidaka slowly lets his shoulders sag, the momentum of his thrusts rocking him down an inch at a time to tongue the droplets of sweat in the crook of Nishijima's neck.

Before he can get there, Nishijima lifts his face, cups Hidaka's jaw hard, and kisses him.

Hidaka inhales sharply through his nose and tries to twist out of it, but Nishijima isn't letting go. There's focus beneath the sex-heavy lids of those big sleepy eyes of his. For a few moments they pant into each other like that, straining, locked in a tense tableau. It's wet. It's hot. It feels a hundred times dirtier than having his cock buried in Nishijima's buttocks, and a hundred times more intimate. And he doesn't wonder why he didn't want to do it before. He knows why he was so reluctant, so fucking scared. Because now he doesn't think he's going to be able to stop.

"Don't," Nishijima says, shaping the word sloppily against Hidaka's mouth. He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud, at least part of it. "Don't stop. Ever."

He can still taste Nishijima in the morning, even after he's cleaned his teeth, and the ache in his muscles lasts longer still, but it feels too good for him to care.