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Kinktober 2018

Chapter Text

  • Day 1: Deep-Throating | Face-Sitting; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 2: Ass Worship | Begging | Medical Play; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 3: Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 4: Mirror Sex | Spit-Roasting; Imai/Sakurai/Hide; By Yoshi
  • Day 5: Shotgunning; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 6: Daddy | Corset | Cock Worship | Biting; Issay/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 7: Praise-kink | Gender Swap | Aphrodisiacs; Sakurai/Fem!Imai; By Nurse
  • Day 8: Blood/Gore | Hate-fucking/Angry Sex; Sakurai/Kiyoshi; By Yoshi
  • Day 9: Bondage | Lingerie; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 10: Micro/Macro | Dub-con; Yuta/Hide; By Yoshi
  • Day 11: Object Insertion | Cross-dressing; Sakurai/Imai; By Nurse
  • Day 12: Licking | Pet Play | Rimming/Analingus | Costume; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 13: Distant/Distracted Sex | Gags | Creampie; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 14: Asphyxiation | Distention | Tentacles; Shuma-Gorath/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 15: Overstimulation | Intercrural Sex | Uniforms; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 16: Nipple Play | Frottage | Body Worship | Sixty-nine; Sakurai/Imai; By Yoshi
  • Day 17: Masturbation | Seduction | Orgasm Denial; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 18: Latex; Imai/Raymond; By Yoshi
  • Day 19: Public | Formal Wear; Sakurai/Imai; By Nurse
  • Day 20: Hair-pulling | Waxplay | Hot-Dogging; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 21: Bukakke | Food play; Imai/A whole mess of musicians; By Nurse
  • Day 22: Impact Play | Cuckolding | Hand-jobs | Threesome; Imai/Sakurai/Issay; By Yoshi
  • Day 23: Shibari; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 24: Leather | Lapdances | Shower/Bath; Sakurai/Issay; By Yoshi
  • Day 25: Boot Worship | Forniphillia (Human Furniture) | Dirty Talk; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 26: Smiles/Laughter | Toys; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 27: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Degradation | Against a Wall; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 28: Stripping/Striptease; Sakurai/Imai; By Yoshi
  • Day 29: Double Penetration; Imai/Sakurai/Raymond; By Nurse
  • Day 30: Gagging | Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose | Swallowing; Sakurai/Hide; By Yoshi
  • Day 31: Scat | Watersports | Hot dogging | Teasing | Creampie | Group Play | Vore | Incest | Facials | Hair pulling | Food Play | Stripping | Outdoors; Buck-Tick; By Nurse

Chapter Text

Imai groaned as Sakurai sat down on his chest, the majority of his full weight thankfully distributed between warm thighs positioned on either side of his body. With a sharp grin, Sakurai looked down at Imai and slightly crouched forward as he took the man beneath him’s face into his hands.


“Are you ready Maimai?" Sakurai purred, sinking lower until their foreheads touched.

In response, Imai lightly ghosted his fingernails up and down Sakurai's thighs before moving his attentions to the hot and heavy cock resting on his sternum and uttering, “Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready.”


Reaching forward, Sakurai steadied himself on the headboard of their bed, lifted his weight off of Imai, and carefully moved forward until the tip of his erection was at Imai’s hungry mouth.

Rocking from side to side, Sakurai laughed as Imai lazily chased after him, mouth open and tongue limply hanging out. After enough teasing, Sakurai held Imai’s face still with one hand as he pushed himself into his mouth, tossing his head back with a soft sigh as the warm, wet sensation enveloped him.


At first, Imai took the lead as best as he could with his arms pinned to his sides by Sakurai's knees.  Head bobbing back and forth he sucked on Sakurai with fervor and watched the man kneeling over him slowly come undone as his sighs grew to moans as he struggled to hold steady. Finally, cracks in Sakurai's restraint began to show and he involuntarily thrusted hard into Imai’s mouth.

The sensation of Sakurai's hard erection jamming down his throat surprised Imai and he instinctively coughed and gagged as his body rejected the assault. As Sakurai pulled back, Imai took a few breaths to relax and looked up at Sakurai until they finally locked eyes.

“It's alright, you just took me by surprise. I'm ready now,” Imai said before craning his head forward to give Sakurai a playful lick up his shaft.

This time, Imai relaxed as Sakurai pushed himself deep into the back of his throat, his moans vibrating around Sakurai.


Bracing himself further on the headboard, Sakurai began to thrust into Imai, pushing in as far as he could and holding still against the feel of the gag reflex fighting against him until tears streamed from Imai’s eyes. He pulled back with a hiss, allowing Imai to catch his breathing and regain composure. As Sakurai leaned in to fuck Imai’s mouth again, he felt a pair of hands grasp the back of his thighs and lift him up slightly.

“Atsushi," Imai panted, “Scoot forward more for me."

Obeying his request, Sakurai shuffled closer to the head of the bed until Imai stopped him, directly above his face, and directed him to lower his hips closer to him.

“Try not to suffocate me alright?" Sakurai heard Imai say underneath him right before he felt a nip on his ass near the tender skin of his perineum that made his gasp out in surprise.


Imai relished in the sounds Sakurai made as he worked his ass open with his tongue and groaned as Sakurai pushed down against him more. Shaky thighs pressed into to sides of his head as they fought to continue holding the man sitting on him up, and Imai enjoyed every second of it. Occasionally he broke away to tease Sakurai's scrotum and shaft as he came up for air, but Imai stayed focused on the sensation of being buried into Sakurai's ass as he worked to make him orgasm from being eaten out.

Sakurai, knuckles now white as they gripped into the headboard, had been crying out loudly in ecstasy the entire time, Imai’s oral assault on his asshole becoming too much to bear. Wrenching a hand free from it's grasp on the headboard Sakurai brought it down between his legs, letting out a moan of relief as he wrapped his own hand around his cock that was dripping with the need for release, and began to stroke himself in time with Imai’s tongue.

As Sakurai edged closer to orgasm he found himself pushing harder into Imai’s face as his tongue began to probe inside his hole until he finally yelled out as he came. The hot mess dribbling down his fingers still wrapped around himself as Imai pushed him down and away, gasping for air before licking away the drops that began to leave Sakurai's fingers.

Chapter Text

“How nice of you to stop by and pay a visit to this flu-ridden me,” Atsushi croaked, peering out from his apartment as he opened his door a crack.

“You don’t smell sick,” Imai retorted, his usual unimpressed look on his face. “You smell drunk.”

Atsushi’s eyes crinkled, his shoulders shaking in a quiet laugh. “Can’t a sick man drink?”

“No matter what ails you, shochu won’t get you any better,” Imai deadpanned. “Open up and let me in.”

“You’ll catch my buuug~~,” Atsushi chuckled in a sing-song voice.

“You’re drunk as fuck, as if I’ll catch anything from you,” Imai retorted, growing impatient. “C’mon, let me in. I’m supposed to be delivering supper to you.”

“On your rounds to deliver the scheduled meals, Doctor?” Atsushi chuckled to himself, leaning his head against the door frame with a silly smile.

“Nurses do that, Acchan,” Imai corrected, exasperated. He rubbed his forehead with his hand as he sighed. He expected Atsushi to be a handful but this was a bit too much. Then again, he was rarely the one who had to deal with his drunkenness. “Just how much did you drink this time?”

“Hey Doctor, I’ll let you in if you’ll treat me,” Atsushi winked as he stuck his hand out and tapped Imai on the nose. He completely ignored Imai’s question.

“The only thing I’m treating you to is dinner,” Imai snapped. “Unlatch the fucking door and let me in.”

“Mm~ Scary doctor~,” Atsushi’s voice trailed away as he closed the door. With a click, a slide, and another click, the chain latch came off and Atsushi swung the door wide open.

Imai hastily pushed the bento set in the plastic bag into Atsushi’s arms. “Just kidding. I’m not going in. Happy supper.” He wasn’t fast enough though.

Grabbing Imai’s wrist, Atsushi pulled him into the apartment and pressed him against the wall. “But Doctor, you haven’t given me a diagnosis,” Atsushi said breathily.

Imai shook him off. “For fuck’s sake, get a grip, Acchan,” he scolded, snatching the bento back from him before it fell out of Atsushi’s arms.

Taking quick strides to the kitchenette, Imai put set the food down on the countertop when he felt his ass getting grabbed. Imai clicked his tongue in annoyance. What now? Unable to turn, he twisted around and found Atsushi rubbing his face in his ass. “Acchan, seriously? At least give me a chance to shower?”

“Doctor Imai~” was all Atsushi responded with as he went on whining noisily.

What was Imai supposed to do now? Entertain him? Atsushi’s hand suddenly grabbed Imai’s crotch, making him grunt and double over slightly while Atsushi continued whining into his ass. It seems like there was no getting out of this. Doctors, huh…

“Hey, Acchan.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Get in bed,” Imai ordered.

“And why should I?”

Irritation welled up in Imai at the question. Was he always this petulant? Taking a deep breath, Imai quashed the feeling down and said stiffly, “You’ll need an examination for a diagnosis, right?”

“Of course.” Imai could practically hear the smile in Atsushi’s voice as he finally let go of his ass. Atsushi didn’t exactly let go of him though. “You’ll be conducting the examination, won’t you Doctor?”

Imai grit his teeth, tensing his jaw. When will he stop calling him ‘Doctor’? “… Yes, just… get yourself ready.”

As Atsushi skipped away, Imai was finally left alone. He sighed and looked around. One, two, three, four empty bottles. How is Atsushi still so… awake? Tossing that question aside, Imai had a more imminent issue to deal with. What was he supposed to do now?


“Acchan, I really don’t know-”

The moment Imai stepped into Atsushi’s room, the words got stuck in his throat as he laid eyes on Atsushi stripping his underwear off.

Looking over his shoulder, Atsushi asked with a smirk on his face, “What’s wrong, Doctor?”

“Get on the bed,” Imai answered curtly as he picked up Atsushi’s discarded tee and sweatpants.

Atsushi excitedly flopped onto his bed like a child.

“Raise your arms,” Imai ordered, and he did, letting Imai tie his wrists to the top rail of his bed head. Once done, Imai moved to bind Atsushi’s ankles together without a word. Standing up, he started walking out of the room, uttering a single word, “Wait.”

“Imai?” Atsushi suddenly used his name.

Surprised, Imai glanced over. For the first time tonight, Atsushi looked genuinely worried. Imai felt his insides clench. He sighed. Curse his soft spot for Atsushi. “I promise I’ll come back, alright?” he said, attempting to allay Atsushi’s anxiety.

Atsushi nodded mutely. He was weirdly quiet.

Giving Atsushi one last affirming look, Imai stepped out of the room. Now, what could he use?


It felt like an eternity before the door clicked open again, signalling Imai’s return. Thank goodness he didn’t really exit the house and leave Atsushi stuck as he was. The restraints were surprisingly tight. Or maybe it was just his mind having been dulled by all that alcohol.

Atsushi could smell Imai entering the room. The smoke from his cigarette between his lips wafted around as he walked. Watching Imai, Atsushi’s body relaxed, relieved that he was here. Stretching his body out on the bed, he had a smile on his face as Imai approached with that expressionless face of his. Atsushi tried to see what he brought back with him, but Imai hid it too well. Oh well, Imai wouldn’t do anything risky, would he?

Sitting down next to him, Imai removed the cigarette, holding it between his fingers as he leaned over and held Atsushi’s chin in his hand. “So what ails you today?” he asked, deadpanned.

“It started with chest hurting,” Atsushi breathed, blinking slowly. He wasn’t lying. Getting dumped by a girl does hurt. “But the ache… It feels like it spreads. Even my head doesn’t feel right.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Imai scoffed, taking a drag. “That’s what you get for drinking so much.”

Atsushi whined. “It’s the pain… I can’t do anything else…”

“Ah.” Realisation hit Imai. “You got dumped huh.”

Atsushi pouted and turned away, dejected. “Insensitive,” he muttered to himself.

“What do you propose I do then?” Imai asked, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table.

“I don’t know,” Atsushi snapped. “You’re the doctor.”

“Oh? Is that how you ask for help?” Imai questioned.

A flash of cold suddenly sparked in the center of Atsushi’s back and he gasped in shock. What was that? Before he could investigate, the cold sensation trailed down towards his crack. Atsushi shivered involuntarily as the sensation disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. He could smell alcohol now.

Imai turned Atsushi over unceremoniously. “You were looking for an examination, weren’t you?” Imai smirked.

Atsushi yelped before he could reply as Imai lifted his legs up, resting his calves on his shoulder. His groin was now exposed to Imai, but Atsushi couldn’t see what he was doing. Atsushi wasn’t sure what to think of this. He swallowed. “Doctor…”

That same chilly sensation assaulted Atsushi again, this time between his inner thighs as Imai pressed something in and dragged the cold-inducing article down towards his groin again. Atsushi could feel the anticipation build in him, growing but suddenly falling flat when Imai withdrew the offending article again, just before it could touch more sensitive areas. Atsushi whined, protesting in his frustration.

“What’s wrong now? Imai asked, a devious smile on his face.


“Ah, ah, ah,” Imai tutted, cutting Atsushi off with another cold jolt, this time it was something that poked at his entrance. “I’m sure you’ve been taught proper manners,” Imai mused in mock nonchalance.

Atsushi felt nervous, his insides clenching at the thought of a foreign object entering him. He would feel better if he knew what it was but in this situation…

Hearing silence from Atsushi, Imai teased his hole, pushing the object in ever so slightly. Atsushi moaned in response. It was cold, it felt uncomfortable, but it somehow felt pleasurable to him. His breathing turned heavy as Imai continued, teasing Atsushi just enough to arouse him yet still wanting for more.

Suddenly, Imai stopped again and Atsushi whined. “Ask nicely,” Imai coaxed, caressing the side of Atsushi’s thigh with a hand.

“Doctor… Please examine me,” Atsushi breathed.

Imai smirked. “Understood."

The cool touch of what must be alcohol, the smell now overwhelming, met Atsushi’s skin again, this time on his inner thigh, near his scrotum. As the cold sensation brushed over his balls, Atsushi jerked, instinctively trying to shift away, but Imai held him in place, making shivers run through Atsushi’s body in waves as Imai moved from his scrotum, to his perineum, and eventually to his opening. There, Imai discarded whatever he was using and drew a fresh one out, renewing the cold touch on Atsushi’s anus with a fresh intensity. As Imai pushed, Atsushi arched his back and moaned, unable to hold back.

Imai chuckled and let Atsushi’s legs down, withdrawing his finger as he did. His alcohol-scented fingers grabbed Atsushi’s jaw, kissing him roughly, purposely distracting him as Imai slapped cotton pads doused in alcohol on his body, making Atsushi gasp with high pitched whines. Still holding Atsushi’s face firmly in his hand, Imai dragged the alcohol-soaked pads up Atsushi’s body, laying them over his nipples and pressing down, letting the cold liquid dribble down his body.

Breathing heavily, Atsushi felt heady. He couldn’t tell how much was it was from the alcohol he consumed finally kicking in and how much was from Imai’s teasing but one thing is for sure, he was at Imai’s mercy until he was done.

Finally letting Atsushi go, Imai drew back, sitting pretty next to Atsushi’s legs again as he lifted them and rested his calves on his shoulder once more. “Ready for your rectal examination?” he asked.


“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please… Doctor… Please examine me.”

“How polite,” Imai smiled.

Almost instantly, Atsushi felt something long, thin, and cold enter him and he gasped in surprise, again trying to jerk away but Imai held firm. “It’ll be worse if you keep doing that,” Imai warned, genuinely worried.

Nodding shakily, Atsushi lay back, trying to relax as Imai pushed in deeper and stirred up his insides, making his erect penis twitch from the stimulation. Just as he was getting used to it, Atsushi felt a second cold object, similar to the first, enter him again. This time, he was better prepared, allowing himself to enjoy Imai’s teasing as he moaned softly.

Out of nowhere, Imai withdrew the two objects, throwing them aside with a clink before replacing them with his finger. The warmth and wider girth aroused Atsushi more, relishing the familiar sensation with renewed vigour.

Noticing Atsushi’s heightened interest, Imai slowly lowered Atsushi’s legs as he continued to thrust his finger in and out of Atsushi, curling his finger everyone once a while to stimulate his prostate. Atsushi’s eyes were half-open and unfocused, clearly too lost in the pleasure to realise the change. Imai grinned and gradually spread Atsushi’s thighs, giving himself better access to his crotch.

Imai eased a second finger into Atsushi, further occupying his senses, and once both fingers were in, he took Atsushi’s erection in his mouth, pressing his tongue against his frenulum as he sank lower. Imai was rewarded by a loud, unrestrained moan from Atsushi, his surprise adding to his heightened pleasure. With the way Atsushi jerked his hips as Imai drew him in and out of his mouth while moving in tandem with the thrusting of his fingers, Imai could tell how much he yearned to do something, anything, with his hands.

Atsushi moaned for more, and this time, Imai decided to let him have his way. Removing Atsushi from his mouth, Imai thumbed his tip with his other hand while he began to tease a third finger at Atsushi’s entrance. The moment Imai pushed a third finger in and curled his fingers, he gently took Atsushi’s balls in his mouth sucking gently making Atsushi’s moans grow louder, higher, more fervent as Imai proceeded to overwhelm his senses.

With this combination, it didn’t take long for Atsushi to climax, letting out a long keening whine for Imai as he came. Imai sat up and smirked at Atsushi’s look fo euphoria. “You satisfied now?” he asked.

“Not until you give me a kiss, Doctor,” Atsushi managed.

“I’m afraid that’s against protocol,” Imai shrugged, turning away.

Atsushi whined pitifully, tugging at Imai’s heartstrings as he undid the sweatpants bundled up around Atsushi’s ankles.

Sighing, Imai turned back. He feigned reaching for the shirt on the headboard but instead dove down to kiss Atsushi on his lips, adding a bit of tongue in there for good measure.

Finally, Atsushi smiled. “Thank you for your care, Doctor,” he grinned. “Now, if you would please free my arms. I can’t feel them anymore.”

Chapter Text

Imai looked down at the bed in front of him while thoughtfully scratching his chin with one hand. A large white sheet stained with a myriad of colors over its life had been draped over the bed itself, a dropcloth of sorts, for the canvas laying on top.

Laid out like a cat caught in a sunbeam was Atsushi, stripped bare except for a red satin blindfold across his face and a pair of black briefs cut low in the waist. Not knowing what side of the bed Imai was at, he turned slightly away from Imai, stretching his hand out to the opposite edge of the bed.

“Now Acchan," Atsushi turned his head at the sound of his name, "You know you can't move like that while I'm painting. Don't make me regret not tying you up.”

“I'm sorry," Atsushi replied with a shy smile on his lips. “You were so quiet that I just wanted to be sure you were still here.”

"Of course I am! I was just getting everything else ready.” As if Atsushi was able to see, he gestured to the large tray sitting on the ottoman by the bed. On it was a variety of different colored candles in different states of use, a pack of cigarettes, his personal iPhone, a small ice bucket, a long necked fireplace lighter, and a freshly sharpened kitchen knife.


“Hold on," Atsushi said as he felt Imai getting on the mattress as well, “Grab my phone and pick a playlist, would you? You're too quiet when you do this, it makes me nervous.” In response, he heard Imai snort in laughter as the mattress raised itself again when his weight left.

Shortly after he felt the mattress sink again. This time it sank further as Imai had returned and now had his full weight on it. With Atsushi laying between his knees, Imai leaned forward and gently placed the soft earpieces of the headphones over Atsushi's ears.

“This is the only time you're gonna be allowed to move," Imai said as he cued up one of Atsushi’s saved playlists, “How's the volume?"

With a hand Atsushi directed Imai to turn it up to his satisfaction, which he signaled with a thumbs up. Now that Atsushi was prepared as well, Imai placed the phone beside Atsushi's head, out of the way of his canvas area, before leaning back. Grabbing the lighter on its own, he turned it on with a squeeze of the safety trigger.

The butane burned a brilliant blue as it flickered to the circulation of the air in the room before Imai released the trigger, extinguishing it. Tapping the end of the lighter with his own finger first, he then lightly ran it down Atsushi's chest.

Feeling the hot metal glide over him, Atsushi arched his back with a gasp of surprise at first, but as Imai repeated the act of lighting and then touching Atsushi a few more times across his body he began to relax as he grew to expect the sensation.

Satisfied at Atsushi's responses becoming less physical as soft sighs and murmurs replaced his initial reflexive jumps, Imai picked out a candle to begin his work with.

Holding the wax column in his hand and away from Atsushi, Imai lit it and watched as the heat of the flame on the wick slowly softened the wax into a liquid pool ready to trickle down.

Before dripping it over his 'canvas’, Imai tested a few drops against the inside of his wrist. He hissed as a hot pain bloomed out from under the wax and into his skin, but quickly the heat subsided leaving a warm tingling sensation behind.

He started on what should be Atsushi's least sensitive locations, slowly and mindfully covering his shoulders and chest (all but the nipples, for now) in an abstract splatter pattern, all the while taking in the cacophony of moans escaping Atsushi as he relished in the pleasurable sting of hot wax on bare skin.

While painting, as Imai called it, he would occasionally switch out candles as you would acrylics and even would hold the lighter close to - but not quite touching - Atsushi in order to melt the colors together. He could tell when he was blending a particularly thin layer of wax when Atsushi's breath hitched in his throat at the sensation of heat building back on him.

Sitting back on his heels, Imai admired not only his own handiwork but the beauty of the man laid out so patiently and willingly for him under it. He grinned as his eyes travelled down Atsushi's body and rested and the slowly growing bulge under the briefs. Jackson Pollock, eat your heart out.

“Such a masochist, aren't we?" He chided despite knowing that it would be drowned out by the music playing from the headphones. He was definitely tempted, but he resisted the urge to play before his work was done.


Atsushi focused on keeping his breathing steady, waiting in anticipation for the next bit of wax, or Imai’s fingers softly swirling designs in what he reheated on his body. The thrill of being Imai’s canvas was a multifold experience for him. Giving over control, trusting the man with an open flame near his skin, even not being able to see what he was creating on his body brought excitement that mixed with the pleasurable pain he was receiving the entire time.

Just as he let his guard down and moved his attention back to his music, Atsushi was shocked back into reality by what he thought was a knife stabbing into the inside of one of his wrists. Crying out in surprise, he instinctively jerked his arm away and was met with a quick slap at the side of his jaw that made him freeze up.

“Imai,” he gasped out as he tried to steady himself once more, “Imai I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to move!” Atsushi felt Imai’s weight shift forward as one hand came to stroke fingers gently over his afflicted wrist, while the other gingerly removed the headphones.

“Acchan,” Imai said sweetly as he pulled Atsushi’s wrist to his lips and kissed it, “I’m sorry, I forget you’re not used to it there.” With his other hand, he thumbed Atsushi’s jaw where he’d backhanded him in a panic. “But you almost touched the lit candle you know.” Atsushi chewed the inside of his cheek and turned away, feeling a bit remorseful.

Imai turned Atsushi forward again and pressed their lips together in a tender kiss. “Do you want to stop? It’s no problem.”

“No no, let’s keep going.” Atsushi replied with a gentle smile.

With the relit candle in hand, Imai repositioned Atsushi’s right arm to his liking and then clasped their hands together before giving a reassuring squeeze.

“This time, just squeeze my hand instead of jerking, alright?”

As the wax fell across skin unfamiliar to the sensation, Atsushi gasped and cried out softly, surprised at how intense the feel of hot wax dripping down his arm as it cooled felt. He was thankful that the blindfold was big enough to cover his cheeks since he was sure they burned from the embarrassment of getting so aroused again so quickly by wax on his arm of all places.

Imai was growing impatient and he thought Atsushi was as well, judging from the growing wet spot on his strained briefs, so he decided to wrap it up without painting Atsushi’s left arm.


Trading the candle for the iPhone, Imai grinned as he opened the camera app and began snapping pictures of Atsushi. He smacked Atsushi lightly on the knee when he started to squirm as he heard the shutter effect.

“Actually, I take that back. Keep squirming, it’s perfect.” He reached over to pinch one of Atsushi’s nipples and relished in the cry he got in return.

“Imai please,” Atsushi whined, “I’m starting to get cold.”

Imai clicked his tongue. “You just want to hurry up and get off.” Tossing his phone on the bed, Imai grabbed the kitchen knife and inspected the edge. He’d made sure to pick the dullest one he had, but he wasn’t in the mood for more surprise close calls.

“Atsushi,” He began as he sat down on Atsushi’s legs to pin him, “I’m going to start now, do you want the blindfold off?”

“Leave it on. I promise I won’t jump.”


Gently, Imai pressed the flat of the blade against Atsushi’s stomach and slowly eased it between the wax and his skin, making it easier to peel away by hand. The cool of the steel felt good on Atsushi’s skin, particularly on the spots left more tender by the wax, and he shuddered as Imai purposely passed the knife across one of his exposed nipples.

Once only his shoulders were left to clean, Imai rolled his weight forward, not paying attention to the fact that the fly of his jeans was barely grazing against Atsushi’s erection.

Atsushi more than noticed however. Exaggerating a moan, he pushed himself into Imai, who immediately jumped back to glare.


“What did I tell you about moving? I’m almost done”

“So am I,” Atsushi whined, trying to rock into Imai again, “Please Maimai, I’m so close.”

Imai frowned at Atsushi, and was just about to reach out to jerk him off, but just then…

“So close huh? Are you so close that anything can get you off?” Punctuating his point was the point of the knife, slowly trailing down Atsushi’s stomach. “You know, you really can’t move if I do this, but you shouldn’t need to if you’re just. That. Close.”


Atsushi moaned at the realization of what was happening, and he dug fistfuls of the dropcloth into his hands in preparation.

Deftly, Imai used the knife to lift up the waistband of Atsushi’s briefs up and over, giving him access to almost trembling erection within. Another idea flashed in Imai’s mind, and he lifted the lid of the ice bucket and submerged the knife blade within for a few seconds.

Atsushi cried as Imai lightly slapped the flat of the blade on his cock, dragging it slowly up and off before doing it again. The steel held the temperature of the ice well, which almost felt white hot against his most sensitive skin. It really was too much and it left him gripping the dropcloth even harder as he fought against bucking his hips to the sensation.

Once Imai switched from the flat of the blade to slowly dragging the point of it down the underside of his erection Atsushi was done. Sobbing as he desperately kept from moving, Atsushi came in thick white ribbons onto his abdomen.

Imai set the knife down and reached to pull up Atsushi’s blindfold before wiping away the big wet tears rolling from his eyes. Pushing their foreheads together, Imai closed his eyes and listened to Atsushi underneath him as he slowly calmed down.


“Hey,” Imai said as he got up off the bed to look for a washcloth in the basket of folded laundry on the floor, “You know, I think that might have been some of my best work.”

“Oh yeah?” Atsushi replied, lazily reaching out for the washcloth.

“Yeah.” He paused. “You know, it’s a real shame tha--”

“I swear to God, if I ever find any of your photos anywhere but on that phone, you’ll be the one on the sharp end of a knife.”

Chapter Text

Hide was going about his usual business, namely tuning his guitars and running through the songs backstage when their manager knocked on his door. “Could you… ask Sakurai what he wants for lunch? Drop me a message later.” It only struck Hide as an odd request when he was on his way to Sakurai’s room. Couldn’t he ask Sakurai himself? Why did he have to get Hide to ask?

With his eyes fixated on his phone, Hide was busy pulling up the chat window with their manager when he knocked twice on Sakurai’s door and opened it. “Hey, what do you want to eat-”

Well, no wonder. Imai was standing next to the full length mirror in the room while a half-dressed Sakurai was on his knees, sucking on Imai’s penis as he made eye contact with Hide.

Following Sakurai’s line of sight Imai saw Hide and nodded at him. “What’s up? You mind closing the door?”

“I’ll… come back later…” Hide muttered turning to leave.

“Or you could fuck his ass and get him to tell you what he wants right now,” Imai suggested. “If you’re going to linger there, seriously, close the door-” he suddenly gasped, as Sakurai sucked harder when he pulled away.

“His mouth is occupied-”

“It’s not now,” Sakurai winked through the mirror. “Besides, if you really wanted to leave, you would’ve done so already,” he added, pressing his lips against Imai’s glans as he flicked his tongue seductively.

Hide suddenly heard footsteps shuffling from one end of the corridor as a young teenager, a part-timer, came in the direction of Sakurai’s room. Alarmed, he quickly stepped into the room and shut the door. Letting a kid see this-

“I see you’ve decided to join us,” Sakurai purred, smiling as he stretched his neck and stood up. His black slacks, already undone, came off easily, revealing his half-erect penis as he kicked it aside.

The part-timer stopped outside the room and apparently met with another staff member right there and then. Hide grimaced. He couldn’t just open the door and step out now.

The sound of a stool being dragged over the concrete floor snapped Hide back into this strange reality he found himself in. Sakurai brought a stool to where Imai stood and bent over on it, resting on his forearms. Propping his chin up in a hand, he smirked suggestively at Hide as he asked, “Need me to get you hard?”

Hide intended to say no but instead he coughed, suddenly choking on his saliva. Hacking violently as he struggled to breathe, he felt Imai lead him by his wrist to stand before Sakurai, right next to the mirror. Imai then took his phone away, tossing it onto the nearby couch. Sakurai began unbuckling Hide’s belt without asking, humming a vague tune as he pulled the belt apart and unzipped Hide’s pants.

Gripping Sakurai’s shoulder with a hand, Hide was trying to force words out through the coughing but Sakurai’s hand went under and held Hide’s balls in his hand, squeezing lightly. Hide sucked in his stomach, wary of sudden movement. Dare he say no now?

Hide could feel the heat rush to his nether regions as Sakurai gently kneaded his balls. Hearing a low chuckle from Sakurai, Hide looked down and watched Sakurai bite his underwear with his teeth and drag it down, holding eye contact with Hide throughout.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Imai asked, grabbing a bottle of lube. “You know that you can touch him, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Hide muttered, still rather bewildered at the situation that he’s found himself in.

Feeling a lick around the base of his hardening erection almost made Hide jump in surprise. Sakurai dragged his tongue along the underside of Hide’s erection, watching himself in the mirror as he opened his mouth and slid Hide in.

Hide groaned as the warmth and wetness of Sakurai’s mouth enveloped him. Bracing himself with a hand on Sakurai’s shoulder and one grabbing his head, Hide let Sakurai go at a steady pace, bobbing his head without much of a rush. Out of nowhere though, Sakurai’s expression turned orgasmic as he moaned. Looking up, Hide saw what caused it. Imai had stuffed his finger into Sakurai.

The penetration distracted Sakurai from Hide, his jaw turning slack as Imai’s thrusting became the dominant source of pleasure for him. Taking matters into his own hands, Hide tightened his grip on Sakurai’s hair, holding him as he fucked Sakurai’s mouth while he moaned.

The vibrations in Sakurai’s throat suddenly ceased, turning into heavy breathing, and Hide looked up again, curious. Imai was gesturing him over to the back. “Feel free to use his ass now,” he said, tossing the bottle of lube to Hide, who caught it effortlessly.

Simply reacting, Hide dispensed a generous amount of lube into his hand and worked the slippery gel over his erection. Meanwhile, Imai already had his own penis back in Sakurai’s mouth, murmuring praises as Sakurai sucked enthusiastically.

Setting the bottle down, Hide stood behind Sakurai and positioned himself. “Lift your ass,” he heard Imai tell Sakurai, and he did, straightening his legs to present his eagerly waiting hole to Hide.

Swallowing, Hide swept away all but’s and slid himself into Sakurai’s entrance. He involuntarily groaned, savouring the heat and Sakurai’s ardent moaning as he pushed himself all the way in. Putting his hands on Sakurai’s hips, Hide began to thrust, eliciting more ecstatic moans from Sakurai.

Imai, too, was thrusting his hips, using Sakurai’s mouth to get himself off as he stood at an angle, making Sakurai watch himself get fucked front and back. Just as Hide pressed himself in deeper, Imai did as well, making Sakurai choke and groan as he teared up from resisting his gag reflex. Imai pulled back a bit, letting Sakurai recover and Hide drew out as well, pausing for a moment before ramming himself hard into Sakurai with renewed vigor, making Sakurai’s knees buckle as he melted into incoherent moaning which Imai promptly muffled by stuffing his dick back in Sakurai’s willing mouth.

Feeling tension building in him, Hide kept up with his thrusting, each time trying to push deeper as he urged himself closer to his gratification. Sakurai shifted as he moved an arm, reaching underneath for his own neglected erection. As he began to stroke himself, Sakurai’s cries grew louder, more fervent as he incoherently begged for more. The shameless noise gave Hide that extra push. Hastily pulling out, Hide came on Sakurai’s back, panting from the effort.

As Hide shuffled away looking for tissues, he heard Imai grunt, followed by Sakurai’s rapturous moans, and finally quiet heavy breathing. Cleaning himself off, Hide grabbed the box of tissues and brought it back to the two of them.

Atsushi has slid down to his knees. Bent over, he folded his arms on the stool where he rested his head, a far away look in his eyes as he took some time to catch his breath. Imai, on the other hand, looked unfazed as he took a couple of sheets from the box in Hide’s hand and wiped himself. Setting the box down next to Atsushi, Hide picked up his phone, left discarded on the sofa.

Unlocking his phone, Hide made sure that nothing weird happened, no accidental calls, nor recordings, nor messages, before approaching Atsushi again. Imai was now dressed and cleaning up the floor.

“So,” Hide spoke, “what do you want for lunch?”

Chapter Text

“Imai, we're out of smokes, ugh!"

Sakurai tossed the empty pack on the coffee table and flopped back onto the couch with a pout. He picked up the remote control and flipped through the channels with more whining.

They had been cooped up in a small inn for two days now, the band and it's crew stuck waiting out a tropical storm that put a hold on their scheduled photoshoot in Okinawa.


“Go ask someone else or hit that vending machine in the lobby then Acchan, tch!” Imai's voice came from the bathroom door where he had been getting dressed after a shower before Sakurai stormed in looking for a nicotine fix.


“Duh I already did that! No one had any to give me and the stupid machine isn't taking money! God, I'm going to go crazy in here, half the channels won't catch because of this fucking rain!”


"Is the 'Rain Man’ actually throwing a tantrum over the weather?” Imai laughed as he stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a well worn but clean pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. Ruffling his hair dry with a towel he moved towards the couch and took a seat beside Sakurai.


“It's not the rain, it's being stuck in here. I'm boooored." After cycling through all the channels one time too many, he turned off the TV, threw his head back, and let out an exaggerated moan of frustration. “It's fucking 1980 fucking 8, how did we end up in the place without cable TV?”


"Go back to your own room or out in the common space with everyone else if all you're going to do is whine like a toddler Sakurai!” Punctuating his annoyance Imai slapped the now damp towel over blonde intruder’s head and stood back up. He walked over to the dresser his travel bag was sitting on and began to search inside.

Sakurai finally pulled off the towel in time to see Imai return to the couch with something surprising in his hands.


“Before the storm rolled in I managed to get that one roadie, Kenji, to pick me up a little something special” Imai said as he dangled the small baggie of weed in front of Sakurai and grinned so wide that the gap from his missing teeth showed.


Sakurai raised an eyebrow at him, “That certainly is a little something ."


Setting the small glass pipe and box of matches he was also holding down on the coffee table, Imai gingerly opened the small bag and packed it into the pipe.

“Yeah well, I told him not to buy too much because I just wanted a try at first, but at this rate… Anyways it should be enough for the two of us.”

Imai brought the pipe to his lips and tried to light the match with one hand, a party trick he'd seen before and had been practicing, but he fumbled and they fell to his lap.


“Alright Mr Houdini," Sakurai laughed as he picked up the box and started the match for Imai, “Why don't you just give it up and start carrying an actual lighter again?”

Imai rolled his eyes at Sakurai as he leaned in to the lit match and took a hit. As he held the smoke in his mouth, he draped his arm around Sakurai and pulled him in to press their lips together. Surprised by the sudden gesture, Sakurai opened his mouth slightly and Imai took the opening, locking lips as he carefully blew the smoke out of his mouth and into Sakurai’s before pulling away with a sly grin.

Confused, Sakurai accidentally inhaled the secondhand smoke deep into his lungs and lurched forward while coughing profusely. Imai rubbed his back in a slight effort to comfort that was negated by him snickering at the situation as well.

With the coughing subsided, Sakurai sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Warn me before you do something like that!!"


“Sorry, sorry," Imai was still shaking with laughter, “I just thought this might be a better way to share it more evenly.”


"Mmhmm.” Sakurai took the pipe out of Imai's hand, "Only if we get to switch off taking hits, I don't trust this whole backwash shit.”

This time, Sakurai leaned back into the arm of the couch some and pulled Imai against him to pass the smoke into his mouth.


They managed to get a few more takes out of the pipe but it eventually found itself set aside as the two found themselves enthralled by the intoxication of one another being amplified by their mellow high.

They shifted down into the couch, almost melting together as they became a tangle of limbs laying across the cushions as Imai had gradually pushed Sakurai further down underneath him.

Sensitive lips played against one another as their tongues darted out, hungry for the taste of each other. They had both felt the other's arousal growing, but neither had any feeling of urgency to do anything more than trade slow and tender messy kisses as their high left them feeling happily lazy. The pounding rain on the window along with the occasional roar of thunder set the soundtrack that they eventually found themselves sleeping in each other's arms to.

They stayed there in peaceful slumber until Sakurai stirred awake from the sound of knocking at the door. Still pinned down by Imai, he gently shook the other man awake and off of him. The door pushed open, revealing their chipper looking bassist on the other side.


“Hey guys, I was wondering where you were,” Yuta said as he walked in the room. “The rain eased up enough that some of the crew are going out to pick up some stuff from the conbini, and I remembered Sakurai begging everyone for a cigarette earlier,” he paused, smelling something peculiar in the air and let out a long sigh, “... But it seems like you managed to get a fix of something.“


Imai and Sakurai looked sheepishly at Yuta, embarrassed at being scolded by the youngest of the five.


“Honestly Imai, can't you go anywhere without bringing that stuff? Don't come crying when you finally get caught red handed by someone who actually cares!”

Chapter Text

Issay smiled at the sight before him. If it were up to him, it would’ve been made one of the wonders of the 20th century. Unfortunately, or not, it was a sight for his eyes and his eyes only.

Atsushi sat in the middle of his hotel bed, looking out the window that the bed was against with his legs folded at his sides, wearing nothing but a black thong and a corset of silk and lace, bound tightly around his torso. His luscious black locks fell over his shoulders as he turned greet Issay with his dark emotive eyes and a soft “Papa” from his lips, stained red from the remnants of the lipstick he applied earlier for their performance.

Hearing the rich tones of Atsushi’s sweet voice addressing him so tenderly gave Issay a rush. He could feel the heat rising, making his body tingle as he quietly eyed Atsushi up and down, willing his mind to etch every detail of this image into his memory.

Taking one final drag from his cigarette, Issay finally pushed himself off the edge of the dressing table and stubbed his cigarette butt out on the ashtray. With a smile on his face, Issay sauntered over to the bed, stretching out an arm to Atsushi as he beckoned. Leaning forward, Atsushi crawled on all fours, moving to the edge of the bed where Issay waited.

“Papa,” Atsushi called again, pushing his face into Issay’s open palm.

Issay allowed himself a thin smile. Oh, how much he wanted to ravage this man right there and then. But he decided he should be patient, let it play out a little longer. He didn’t really want this moment to end so soon, after all.

“Yes, my boy?” Issay finally answered, caressing the smooth skin of Atsushi’s cheek.

“I missed you,” Atsushi breathed. His brows furrowed in yearning as he raised a hand, reaching for Issay.

Just as Atsushi was about to touch him, Issay stopped his advance with a finger, pushing his wrist down. “Not yet, my boy,” Issay said, shifting his hand to hold Atsushi’s chin in his fingers. Tilting Atsushi’s head up to look directly at him, Issay put a leg up on the bed and leaned forward. Not to kiss him, but to ask, “Have you been a good boy?”

To which Atsushi immediately answered, “Yes, Papa.”

“Don’t lie to me, my boy,” Issay warned, his hold tightening a fraction. “What have you been doing while I have been away?” he asked, letting his jealous streak surface.

Atsushi’s eyes widened, suddenly afraid. “Papa, I-”

“Having fun in my absence?” Issay growled.

“Papa, please,” Atsushi pleaded. “I missed you so much I couldn’t bear it…” he added, voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes.

“You couldn’t wait,” Issay surmised, his cold tone sufficiently masking how hard Atsushi tugged at his heartstrings. He could feel his insides churn as he resisted his desires.

“Papa,” Atsushi called again, yearning as his hands reached towards Issay.

“Well, go ahead then. Play with yourself,” Issay said, pulling back.

Leaning against the dresser again, Issay cast a nonchalant figure as he lit a fresh cigarette for himself and folded his arms. Raking his eyes over Atsushi’s form again, Issay covered his mouth with his cigarette hand, hiding the smile that Atsushi’s appearance drew out from him.

“Papa, hold me?” Atsushi said, stretching his arms towards Issay in a bid to change his mind.

“Where are your P’s and Q’s?” Issay returned, flippant.

“Papa, please hold me?” Atsushi tried again.

This time, Issay allowed his smile to show and for a moment, Atsushi looked thrilled. That is, until his smile turned into a devious smirk and he said, “Not until you show me how you’ve played with yourself.”

“Papa…” Atsushi whined.

“Naughty, disobedient boys don’t get rewarded,” Issay intoned, taking a seat on the dresser top. “Are you one, my boy?”

“No, Papa,” Atsushi muttered, shifting meekly as he brought his knees up in front of him.

Pressing his shoulder against the cold glass window, Atsushi spread his legs apart, giving Issay a full view of his crotch as he slid a hand over his corset, reaching down to grab himself. Atsushi’s lips began to part as he palmed himself, gently squeezing his scrotum and rubbing the heel of his palm against his penis while his other hand scratched at the fabric of the corset, the sound of his nails dragging over the lace mixing with his shallow breathing. Sliding that hand up his torso, Atsushi reached for his nipples which barely peeked out of the top end of the corset.

Issay’s eyes were fixated on Atsushi’s nipples as he covered his face again, taking a deep steadying breath through his cigarette as he crossed his legs to suppress the throbbing in his groin. The way his stiff nipples looked, as if they accidentally slipped out when they were meant to be covered, was painfully arousing. Not to mention, the faraway expression Atsushi had on his face, as he rubbed his own nipples and groped his crotch, was simply exquisite.

“Papa…” Atsushi moaned, giving Issay another rush as he sat up and straightened his back. “Am I… good? Papa…”

Putting his cigarette to his lips again, Issay wanted to take another long drag but found himself tasting the unsavoury end near the filter. How did it burn out so quickly? That was barely five puffs. Grimacing, Issay stubbed the cigarette out and slid off the dresser. He was running low on restraint anyway.

As Issay strolled back to the bed, Atsushi’s eyes seemed to brighten as he moaned again, “Papa… Please, hold me.”

Eyeing Atsushi’s erect penis, now unmistakably hard and engorged as it stretched his thong and just almost peeked out over the top, Issay could feel himself getting hard as well. Atsushi reached for Issay again, but Issay stopped him, snapping, “Did I say you can stop?”

Eager to please, Atsushi bit his lip and pinched his nipple, moaning for Issay as he continued groping himself.

“Good,” Issay purred, bringing his hand to the side of Atsushi’s face. Leaning closer, Issay slid his hand around the back of Atsushi’s neck, gently scratching his nape as he repeated, “Good…”

Atsushi clearly relished Issay’s touch. His eyes were half-open as he tilted his head back into Issay’s hand, moaning in ecstasy. There was a twitch in his face when Atsushi suddenly gasped, “Papa, I-!”

“What is it, my boy?”

“Papa… I think I’m going to cum,” Atsushi gasped, his breath hitching. “Papa, may I-”

“No,” Issay said flatly. Taking hold of both Atsushi’s wrists, Issay stopped his masturbation and Atsushi whined in despair. Putting Atsushi’s hands on his hips, Issay pressed his forehead to Atsushi’s, saying, “Be a good boy and do what you’re told, and Papa will let you cum.”

“Yes, Papa…” Atsushi responded reluctantly, looking down as he resisted the urge to grind the bed instead.

“My beautiful boy,” Issay whispered, caressing Atsushi’s face as he brushed his long hair aside. “My lovely, wonderful boy. Will you take off Papa’s shirt?”

Getting up on his knees, Atsushi answered softly, “Yes, Papa.”

Atsushi put his hands on Issay’s shoulders, smoothing down over Issay’s chest to the buttons on his shirt. His chilly fingers carefully undid the buttons, pushing them free one by one as Atsushi took every opportunity he had to brush his fingers on Issay’s warm skin. A small smile tugged at Issay’s lips, amused by how much Atsushi wanted to touch him. Reaching the final button at Issay’s hips, Atsushi paused, staring intently at the bulge in Issay’s pants.


“Yes, my boy?”

“May I… your cock…?”

Issay raised a brow, almost chuckling at Atsushi’s incomplete sentence. “Do you want Papa’s cock?”

After another pause, Atsushi nodded and said, “I want Papa’s hard cock in my mouth.”

This time, Issay did chuckle. “Take it as Papa’s gift to you then, my boy. Go ahead and unwrap it,” he said, stroking Atsushi’s head.

Pressing his face to Issay’s crotch, Atsushi looked up at Issay with a contented expression as he said, “Thank you, Papa. I will treasure your gift.”

Issay smiled back, holding eye contact with Atsushi as he gingerly unbuckled Issay’s belt. Before proceeding to the button and zip, Atsushi nuzzled against Issay’s crotch, brushing the tip of his nose up the length of Issay’s erection as he puckered his lips, planting light kisses along the way. As Issay watched, he let out a long breath, keeping a tight rein on to his composure. If there was anything that would give away the frenzy Atsushi was inciting in him though, it was definitely his erection.

Atsushi had pulled Issay’s pants and briefs down, freeing his cock and now, Atsushi held it in his hands, handling it carefully as he met Issay’s eyes. Without breaking eye contact, Atsushi kissed along Issay’s shaft, from the base to the tip, linking each kiss to the next with his tongue. Reaching the tip, Atsushi pressed his lips to Issay’s glans, sucking lightly as he licked the precum that began to leak out.

Issay’s hand, still stroking Atsushi’s head, tensed from the sparks of pleasure that Atsushi induced. His grip tightened slightly, fingertips pressing into Atsushi’s scalp as he fought against giving in. Needless to say, Atsushi noticed Issay cracking. Smiling innocently, he batted his eyes at Issay, tilted his head up and placed his erection on his chin. With a small, barely audible voice, Atsushi murmured, “Thank you for your big hard cock, Papa.”

Feeling his erection throb, Issay grunted his acknowledgement and slid his penis into Atsushi’s open, waiting mouth. Atsushi sucked noisily, moaning his enjoyment as he bobbed his head to and fro. Pushing all the way in, Atsushi brushed his nose against Issay’s crotch as he let his erection graze the back of his throat. Sucking lightly as he drew his head back out, Atsushi made Issay groan from the suction and felt warm wetness filling his mouth. Resisting the reflex to swallow, Atsushi kept the discharge in his mouth and presented it to Issay as he drew his penis out.

“Such a good boy you are,” Issay praised, stroking Atsushi’s face. “Show Papa how well you swallow.”

And he did. In one gulp, the cum disappeared down Atsushi’s throat. Opening his mouth again, Atsushi displayed his empty orifice to Issay. Pleased with his performance, Issay bent down, giving Atsushi his long-awaited kiss. Atsushi’s kiss was eager, hungry, yet restrained out of worry that Issay would take pleasure in withholding more from him again.

As their lips separated from each other’s, Atsushi whined softly, “Papa… I want you.”

Issay felt a stirring in his crotch again. If he wasn’t sure of it earlier, he had no doubt now that this man was eroticism embodied. Pulling Atsushi to his chest, Issay pressed his lips to Atsushi’s forehead and exhaled. “My boy, my one and only…”

“Papa…” Atsushi keened, tentatively putting his arms around Issay. When he realised that Issay wasn’t making any move to stop him, Atsushi hugged him tighter, burying his face in his skin as he breathed in the faint scent of Issay’s cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. “Papa…” he called again, this time sounding closer to a moan as he relished their closeness.

“Do you want Papa’s love, my boy?” Issay asked, his voice low. He could feel it. He was dangerously close to letting loose.

“Yes, Papa. I’ll always want your love, all of it,” Atsushi breathed, grasping tighter.

“Papa might make you cry, my boy,” Issay warned, barely containing himself after Atsushi’s profession.

“I want all of it,” Atsushi repeated. Looking up at Issay, he smiled and added, “Papa can’t hurt me.”

Issay pushed forward, falling into the bed with Atsushi in his arms as he locked lips with him again. Clenching his fingers in Atsushi’s hair, Issay kissed him hard and rough, only pausing for a moment to suck on Atsushi’s lips, now turning scarlet from Issay’s fervent kissing. Moving, Issay took Atsushi’s hands in his own, one in each, and pinned them to the sides of his head, holding Atsushi down as he shifted lower. Issay could feel Atsushi’s erection next to his, still tucked in his thong and still hard as before. He smiled to himself as he kissed the underside of Atsushi’s jaw. That will come later, he promised silently.

Continuing down, Issay came to Atsushi’s collarbone and licked across his chest, making Atsushi moan “Papa” softly. Arousal renewed, Issay grunted, pushing his hips against Atsushi’s as he bit down on his collarbone and sucked. Atsushi moaned louder in response, egging Issay on. Biting and sucking on Atsushi’s pale chest as he moved, Issay left bruises on him as Atsushi continued moaning.

Finally arriving at Atsushi’s pert nipples, Issay decided to tease him. He gently brushed his lips over one side and Atsushi’s body jerked with an excited cry. “Papa…! More…!” he moaned, his voice going higher.

Issay first pressed his tongue to the tip of a nipple, then dragged it around, swirling with a flick. That did the trick. Atsushi moaned louder and harder than before. Issay glanced down. His precum has already begun to soil his thong with a noticeable wet spot. Issay smirked and shifted to the other nipple, this time putting his lips to Atsushi’s chest as he gently suckled. Atsushi bucked his hips again, and a long moan followed by a drawn out wail for “Papa” escaped his lips, his cries growing more passionate by the minute.

“Papa, please!” Atsushi moan. “Papa, fuck Acchan! Please! Acchan needs your cock! Papa!”

Hearing Atsushi refer to himself in third person told Issay that he was at his limit. And he thought he was the one going crazy. Shifting back up, Issay cradled Atsushi in his arms, holding him as he shushed gently, “Shh… Papa’s here.”

Atsushi’s cries didn’t stop. Instead, it only grew more fervent with tears of desperate desire welling up in his eyes as he clasped onto Issay. Kissing him again, Issay kept Atsushi’s mouth occupied as he discreetly slid his hand down, over the corset and to his thong, slipping under the fabric to stroke Atsushi’s erection. As Issay reached deeper, cupping his scrotum and easing his thong off at the same time, Atsushi whined, arching his back and pushing his crotch into Issay’s hand.

The moment Issay broke the kiss to position himself better, Atsushi started moaning, “Papa… Acchan needs Papa in him…”

“My delicious-looking boy,” Issay purred, pressing the tip of his renewed erection to Atsushi’s entrance. “Can you feel Papa?”

All Atsushi was capable of was another elongated moan of “Papa” as he bucked his hips again, encouraging Issay to push in. The moment he did, Atsushi’s moans turned unintelligible, screaming in delirium as Issay thrust.

Issay himself was lost to the pleasure from the heat and tightness of Atsushi’s anus. Nuzzling against Atsushi’s neck as they rocked, Issay could feel Atsushi’s fingers scratching his back in a frenzy. Affected by Atsushi’s intensity, Issay began kissing the unmarked skin on Atsushi’s shoulder as he, too, started getting more… rough with his loving as he felt his desire build in him. Issay gradually started grazing his teeth over Atsushi’s skin, initially gnawing gently until he was biting harder and harder, leaving bite marks on his shoulder.

Atsushi couldn’t seem to distinguish pain from pleasure, tears rolling down his face as his moans and heavy breathing persisted from the overwhelming sensations that assaulted his body. As Atsushi’s voice started hitching higher, Issay felt Atsushi’s insides clench his erection, squeezing him multiple times. Issay moaned, ceasing his biting until Atsushi’s nails dug into his back.

Screaming in exhilaration, Atsushi managed one final cry for “Papa” as he came, hot and hard. Issay groaned as Atsushi squeezed him harder than before. Moaning tenderly for Atsushi, he gave him one last thrust and came in Atsushi, his hips jerking as he pumped his seed in Atsushi.

Pulling himself out of Atsushi, Issay took a moment to watch his ejaculation leak out of Atsushi’s hole as he stroked Atsushi’s hip with his hand. He then took a deep, steadying breath and leaned over Atsushi again, his open shirt fluttering out behind him as he descended. Collecting Atsushi in his arms, Issay held him close, stroking his hair as he slowly undid the lace that held Atsushi’s corset together.

As the knot came loose, Atsushi let out a sigh and his body relaxed, more so than before. Issay massaged the indentations left behind by the tight corset on Atsushi’s skin. Softly, Atsushi murmured, “Papa…”

Issay chuckled. “You have to stop calling me that.”

“Ah,” Atsushi mumbled, his senses gradually returning to him. Chuckling, his shoulders shook as he said, “If I called you that in public…”

“I’m fucked then,” Issay laughed.

“Papa~” Atsushi called lightly, teasing.

Issay growled and hugged him by his neck, grazing his teeth against Atsushi’s forehead. “You naughty boy,” he chided.

“Are you going to punish me, Papa~?” Atsushi giggled, nuzzling Issay.

At his question, Issay let his body go limp, groaning as he lay flat on the bed. “Honestly… I don’t think I can right now.”

Atsushi chuckled. Lying on his stomach, he had his head resting in his arms as he sighed, “Even if you were up for it, I doubt I can take it.”

“Ah, don’t say that,” Issay responded. “I trust in the resilience of your ass,” he added, slapping Atsushi’s butt.

Clicking his tongue with indignation, Atsushi rolled away from Issay but he was caught and Issay pulled Atsushi back into his arms. Atsushi didn’t struggle or try to get away, simply lying still, indulging in the quiet moment with Issay.

After some time, Issay spoke up. “Supper?”

“Bath first.”

“Good plan.”

Chapter Text

Sakurai settled into the roped off booth at the back of the club and watched the crowd as he poured himself another glass of shochu. The two day concert for their 25th anniversary had been a success, and the after party their musical guests had planned for them had been a pleasant surprise.

Everyone was having the time of their life including Mr. Wallflower in the Booth, who was being more than entertained by a certain guitarist nearing his fifties flittering around like a social butterfly powered by Asahi. Going to pour himself another glass, Sakurai realized he had just finished the bottle. Ah well, the night's still young, he thought as he began to leave the booth to get another bottle.

Approaching the bar, he grabbed the bartender's attention and pointed to the empty bottle in his hand. He made quick conversation with partygoers as he waited for his refill and then turned, fresh bottle in hand, to return to his introvert nook, where Imai waited. As he got closer, he saw what Imai had been waving giddily in his hand and let out a disappointed sigh.

“Imai, you know your doctor said you need to stop mixing ibuprofen with beer,” He said as he slid in next to him.


“Well, Nurse Acchan," Imai slurred with a bit of indignation as he waved the bag full of different colored tablets at Sakurai, "Joke’s on you 'cuz these ain't! The other Acchan gave them to me as a present .”


"Another Acchan? Imai, how many beers have you had so far tonight?”


"Just one,” Imai answered as he opened the zipper lock on the plastic bag, “And these little jelly thingies in tiny cups that everyone kept giving me!” With that, Imai erupted into uncontrollable giggling as he fished out a few tablets.


“Oh my God."


“I know, right?” He chose a reddish tablet and stuck it under his tongue, “Mmm, strawberry! What nice friends we have Acchan… Hey, you want one too? Just like old times?”


At first, Sakurai tried to politely decline. It had been around a decade since the two of them had done anything harder than prescribed painkillers, but as Imai relented he eventually conceded. Imai wasn’t one for pouting to get his as Sakurai was known to do, and he found those droopy bloodhound puppy eyes irritatingly endearing.

“Alright, but just one. I want to actually be able to remember this weekend.” Sakurai presented his mouth, open and with his tongue lifted up to the roof, and waited for Imai to place the tablet inside. As he felt the tablet start to dissolve under his tongue he realized what Imai had done.

“You little shit I said one! Give me those before you OD someone!” He snatched the bag away from Imai, who grinned as he showed off three more tablets before shoving them into his mouth and grabbing Sakurai’s glass of sochu to wash them down with.


“Imai! Imai what the hell!” Sakurai grabbed Imai by the jaw and attempted to jam a finger down the back of his throat, but he wriggled free and slid out the other end of the booth and back into the crowd. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sent a message to the rest of the band.

[ Find Imai. He’s ] Damn, should he tell them the truth, or? [ He’s had too much to drink. Help me get him back to the hotel. ]

He snapped his phone shut, hoping that the other three hadn’t bailed out early. Glaring at the bottle of shochu in front of him, Sakurai snapped it up and started drinking directly out of it. This was going to be a long night, he could tell.


Imai moved around the venue as he felt himself become euphoric and light, as if walking on clouds. Feeling the music course through his veins like electricity, he found himself overcome with an uncontrollable giddyness, and began to affectionately touch the rest of the party goers as he danced through the crowd. He was eventually stopped as he was pulled into a group by a few guys.

“Hey!” Imai grinned, “It’s you Moo kids! What’s up?”


“I think you mean MUCC,” one of the men corrected, “And uh, no Imai-senpai, we’re cali≠gari, remember?”


“Oh shit, that’s right! Other Acchan!” Imai laughed and stretched out a finger to boop Sakurai Ao’s nose with, “Thanks for the party favors by the way~”


Ao raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Party favors?”


“Shh hey don’t make me say it, I don’t wanna go back to jail again! What? You really don’t…” Imai scrunched his face up, “Well fuck, who gave me those drugs then?”


Realizing that Imai’s state was more fargone than just inebriation, Ao, along with his other two bandmates, helped direct Imai into the bathroom in an attempt to sober him up some. Getting him to stand in front of the sink, they directed Imai’s hands under the running water trying to make him wash his face.


“Holy crap, I heard you guys used to party hard but I thought by now maybe you wouldn’t… y’know… so much.”


“C’mon Ao, it’s the Day in Question’s Man of Question, celebrating 25 years of rocking out! Let him live it up!”


Imai leaned over the sink and shuddered as the cold water cupped in his hands splashed onto his face and down his chest. He had enough wits about him to look up at the mirror to check the state of his stage makeup that he never took off, and his eyes widended in horror at his reflection.

“Get out.” He said in a flat, stone cold sober voice.

“Imai-senpai, are you alri--”

“I fucking said get out of here you assholes!” He bellowed out, never turning around, watching the three men rush out behind him in the mirror before returning to stare at himself.


Or is it, herself?


Imai gingerly touched his face as he stared at the mirror. Some things looked right. His short hair. His lips. His nose. His eyes… Somehow softer than usual, the same could be said for his jawline as well. His neck seemed thinner than usual as he made his way down, past his collarbone to…

A sound caught in his throat, only to come out as a strangled cry. This couldn’t be real, he thought. There was no way that he suddenly…

“Oh my fucking God,” he whispered, “I have tits.” The high he had just been feeling began to drop, and he ran out of the restroom with arms crossed over his chest, desperate to find an exit from the nightclub. Not paying attention to the crowd as his eyes were busy looking for the green lighted sign, he ran into Sakurai, who grabbed him by the shoulders firmly and stopped him in his tracks.


“Imai… Imai! Hold on will you?” Sakurai tightened his grip as Imai attempted to struggle free, “It’s me! Hey, come on now, let’s get you out of here.”

Sakurai wrapped an arm around Imai protectively as he escorted him out of the club and into the backseat of the car Hide had called for them. Once they were buckled in, the driver headed for the hotel.

The way Imai was hunched over with his arms crossed tightly made Sakurai worry that he was in pain.

“Imai are you…”


“Please, please don’t look at me!”


As Imai tried to shrink himself further into a ball, Sakurai sighed and leaned his head against the window, looking out the car. The hotel wasn’t that far from the venue, but Sakurai felt like they were moving so slow that maybe the car was driving… backwards?

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, realizing that whatever Imai had given him earlier was probably starting to take effect. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing in hopes of keeping himself under control as the drugs made their takeover.

He’s not entirely sure how, but they managed to exit the car and enter one of their rooms. Still worried about Imai, who ran straight to the bed and curled up face down into the sheets, Sakurai took a seat on the bed next to him and grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around to face him. Looking at the other man with worry, he stared into the wild eyes looking up at him.


“Sakurai,” Imai started, “What’s happening to me?”


Brushing his cheek softly with his fingers Sakurai smiled softly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you through this night,” he said, trying to comfort him as his hand traveled down to squeeze a shoulder, “This isn’t your first bad trip, or your worst.”


“I think this is worse than a trip Acchan,” Imai whispered dangerously low. Placing his hand over Sakurai’s, he pulled their hands down over his chest. “Please tell me you don’t feel that.” But he did.


Taking a look at his hand on Imai’s chest, he noticed it immediately. Instead of being flat against Imai’s rib cage, it was curved around a soft swell of flesh under the t-shirt. He squeezed lightly, and heard Imai gasp lightly in response. Pulling away to sit up, Sakurai’s eyes widened as he looked Imai up and down.

“Oh my God. Did you change...everywhere?” Imai flung a pillow at him in response.


“I’m fucking sorry I’ve been too busy freaking out to make sure I have a fucking dick or not!”


Dodging two more pillows, Sakurai reached out in an attempt to comfort Imai, who had buried his head into the last pillow moaning in agony, but he was smacked away.


“Why do all of you let me do such stupid things?” Imai cried as he rolled over onto his back, arms hugging the pillow tightly. “What the fuck am I going to tell my wife? Sorry, you’re a lesbian now?”


“I don’t think it works like that Maimai.” As he felt the pillow slap across his face in retaliation he grinned, wrenching it away from Imai to leave him out of ammo, “Besides, it’s not all bad if this is… Permanent.”

Tentatively Sakurai reached out again, brushing his fingers softly down Imai’s arm. Imai let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes.


“That feels really good,” he said as he shifted his arm to close his hand around Sakurai’s wrist, bringing his hand up and nuzzled his cheek into it. “Really really good.”


Sakurai watched as Imai rubbed his face all into his palm, listening to him make soft noises of content. He wasn’t sure of what he should do next, everything going on considered, and Imai being suddenly so affectionate wasn’t helping.

As he felt Imai take one of his fingers into his mouth and slowly start to suck, he knew his answer.


Imai grinned slightly as Sakurai bent down to replace fingers with his mouth. He was pretty sure this sudden wave of desire was just more of the drugs talking, but this was also far from the first night the two of them had spent together in an altered state. He’d missed those young days together, fooling around until the sun came up, lust fueled by genuine mutual desire brought to surface by whatever high they had been on at the time. Suddenly, the fact that he was in the wrong body was meaningless to him as long as Sakurai still wanted him in it.


Feeling Sakurai’s arms run up his sides, pushing his shirt up as they went, Imai grabbed him by the shoulder and flipped their position to let Sakurai pull his shirt off as he was straddled over him. Once free of fabric, he watched as Sakurai with his hands gripping his now bare sides slid one up until he was cupping Imai’s breast. Imai bit his lower lip as he tried to suppress a yelp as Sakurai’s thumb brushed across his areola, just barely grazing his already erect nipple. He had never been one for nipple play, at least not as the receiver, but that had been because the sensation there had never been like this. Sakurai bringing his thumb to rub slow circles over his nipple directly was agonizing, and Imai finally let out a moan as he felt heat rushing across his face and building between his legs in response to the pleasure he was getting.

“Acchan,” Imai shuddered as their lustful gazes met, “Acchan please, I…” He yelped and bucked his hips as Sakurai squeeze his nipple between his fingers before bringing his other hand to play with his other breast. Sakurai marveled at how responsive Imai was to having his fondled and squeezed, and so he growled a bit in contentment at finally flipping the tables on him. Feeling himself get hard, Sakurai moved his hips against Imai in an attempt to show him just how turned on Imai’s shameless display was making him. In response Imai pushed his hips down against him in return and grabbed Sakurai’s wrists, pushing them down until Sakurai was gripping his thighs through his jeans.

“Acchan. I think changed down here too. Don’t you want to find out?” Imai’s voice was so sultry in it’s teasing that Sakurai thought he was going to lose it right then and there.


Hooking his fingers into Imai’s belt loops Sakurai tossed him down onto the bed and moved to pin him underneath his body as he brought their mouths together into a frenzy of hungry kisses. Moving to suck on Imai’s earlobe before licking his way down into the crook of his neck Sakurai was also furiously fumbling to unbutton Imai’s jeans. Of course he picked the damn button fly tonight of all nights, he silently cursed.

Sakurai tugged Imai’s pants down, underwear and all, as soon as he’d unbuttoned enough of the fly to loosen the waist past the curvy hips Imai was now sporting. He struggled a bit more to fully remove them as Imai’s desperate leg flailing was not as helpful as he probably thought he was being, but once they were off Sakurai froze, stunned by the sight laying before him.


Imai felt himself blush under Sakurai’s intense gaze scanning him. Of course, they had seen one another in various stages of undress through the years, sometimes in situations just like this, but he’d never felt Sakurai trying to drink in his image like this, as if this would be his only opportunity. Would it really be though?

Feeling brave, and needing to feel Sakurai’s hands on his body again instead of his eyes, Imai slowly dragged a hand down his body as he also raised his knees up to fully expose himself between the legs to Sakurai, watching his gaze as he did. His fingers reached the beginning of the pubic hair and he stopped, terrified of what he would feel down below. Noticing the sudden hesitation, Sakurai locked eyes with Imai.


“Maimai,” Sakurai sang, one hand lazily stroking up Imai’s shin, “You can’t stop now. Please, touch yourself for me.”


Imai closed his eyes and moaned at Sakurai’s request as he obeyed, fingers making their way down to the soft mound of his outer labia. As he hesitated again, he felt Sakurai’s hand top his and push one of his fingers into the folds. He gasped and opened his eyes at Sakurai, feeling the wetness building below him, and clamped his legs shut with a cry when Sakurai pushed his finger against his clitoris, shocked by the intense sensation that such a small spot brought his core.

“Acchan please stop,” Imai cried out with a ragged breath as Sakurai forced a leg open and continued to make Imai finger himself, “Acchan! Please! Ah, don’t tease me.”


“Oh Maimai, I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful,” he leaned down to kiss Imai’s knee, “You’re always so beautiful.” Feeling Imai moving his finger around his clit on his own, Sakurai removed his hand. “Ah but look at you right now. You’re dying to feel me inside you, aren’t you?”

Slowly, Sakurai pushed a finger of his own inside Imai’s dripping wet entrance, turning his palm up before curling the finger inside to make Imai scream out in pleasure.

“God. Maimai,” he said as he continued wriggling his finger inside Imai, “These sounds you’re making. You’re barely being touched and you sound like you’re nearly over the edge. My beautiful Imai, I’ve never had this side of you before. Beg me, beg me to take you with those gorgeous lips of yours.”


Imai opened his mouth, but all that came out were whimpers. In retaliation, Sakurai pulled out his finger and replaced it with three total. Imai’s free hand shot up to his mouth, where he bit it harshly as he tried not to cry further, but it was in vain. The teasing had been too much and he felt himself being consumed by what felt like electricity coursing through his veins.

“A-tsu-shi,” Imai called out his name with sobs and whimpers punctuating each syllable, “Atsushi fuck me. I need you to fuck me!”


Sakurai gingerly pulled his fingers out from between Imai’s quivering legs, smiling that he brought him to orgasm so easily, and proceeded to quickly strip down. As he stood on the floor to step out of his slacks, he heard Imai attempting to ask something through his heavy panting.


“Acchan, do you have a condom?”


Sakurai laughed as he returned to the bed, laying over Imai to make eye contact with him.

“Are you worried about getting pregnant? At your age?” He grinned as Imai angrily pouted, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to pull out.”


Grunting in frustration, Imai wrapped his legs around Sakurai’s waist as he held his face down towards him with his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare. I need to feel you come inside me,” Imai punctuated this declaration with a kiss. “Besides, if anything happens, you’ll just have to take responsibility.”


Sakurai laughed as he tried to sit up, but Imai’s hands held firm against his jaw.


“What are you laughing for? I’m fucking serious!”


Sakurai kissed Imai on the cheek as he pried his hands off his face and finally sat back in between Imai’s legs.

“I know you are. I’m laughing because,” he reached down to pump himself a bit, “I’m happy to see my usual bossy Maimai is still in there and,” he paused to line the tip of his erection up with Imai’s vagina, “Because no matter what happens tonight, I’m going to take responsibility.”


He tried to question what Sakurai meant, but as he opened his mouth only a long moan escaped as Sakurai slid himself inside. The feel of having Sakurai in there was nothing like having had him inside his ass before. There was no pain of needing to relax to accept his girth, but he could still feel him, hot and heavy brushing against his insides lighting sparks of euphoria inside his eyes. Sakurai pulled himself out as far as he could without leaving the warm embrace of Imai from within and then thrusted in as he leaned forward again, hands on either side of Imai’s head as he began to pepper kisses all over the man’s face.


“I’ve always loved you and I’ll always love you.” Sakurai said as he continued thrusting into Imai, who had turned his face away from him, “Whatever body you have, you’ll always be the most amazing person to me.”


Imai grabbed onto Sakurai’s shoulders, trying to bury his head into them as he sobbed, “What if-if…” Sakurai responded by wrapping one arm around Imai’s waist and bringing the other to cradle his head.


“If,” Sakurai found himself struggling to speak but knew he had to, “If you change back, I’ll still love you even though you have your wife. If you stay like this…”


“If-if… then what?”


Sakurai nuzzled against Imai as he pushed him down into the mattress with his body, his thrusting becoming erratic as he felt his climax near.

“I’ll marry you like I’ve always wanted to.”


Imai let out a loud cry as he threw his head back into the mattress, his short fingernails desperately scrambling for purchase across Sakurai’s broad back. I love you’s flowed out of him like a mantra as Sakurai nibbled along his neck, pounding away as he drew close as well.

Sakurai cried out Imai’s name as he came inside of him, and continued thrusting until he felt Imai clench up around both his dick and his body with sobs pouring out of Imai as he felt a surge of euphoria explode from within.


As Imai came down from his natural high, he realized that he’d been tucked into the bed with one of the tossed pillows under his head. Sakurai was at his side, watching him all this time with loving eyes, a hand gently tracing Imai’s collarbone. Imai looked over at him, needing answers for the things Sakurai had said, but the intensity of the entire night took hold and his eyelids suddenly felt too heavy to hold open. The last thing he remembered was the feel of Sakurai’s lips brushing over his forehead before he drifted off to sleep.


In the morning, Sakurai found himself being spooned by Imai. Doing his best to not stir him from what was definitely a well needed slumber, he loosened Imai’s grip on him and slowly turned around to face him.

Looking down at Imai’s naked body under the blankets, Sakurai was struck by a mild disappointment as he realized there would be nothing to take responsibility for. Last night had been real enough that he was sure Imai had overgone a physical change, but staring back at him was the flat chest of a man that he had woken up beside plenty of other times before.

Imai stirred in his sleep and brought Sakurai closer against him as he sighed and buried himself under his chin, still very sound asleep. Sakurai rubbed his nose into the top of Imai’s hair, breathing in deeply as he pulled Imai into an embrace of his own. He wondered how much, if any, of last night the man would remember, and he grew sad at the idea that Imai would never recall his declarations of love. Breathing out with a sigh, Sakurai closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep until he heard Imai mumbling underneath him.


“Mm, so when’s the wedding date Acchan? I promise to be sure to let people know about it this time.”


Sakurai laughed and kissed the top of Imai’s head.

Chapter Text

Sakurai grabbed Kiyoshi and dragged him into the bathroom stall, locking the door behind him as he kicked Kiyoshi onto the seat cover of the toilet.

Incensed, Kiyoshi started to rise. “Hey, what the-!”

Sakurai’s lips crashed into his and hands gripped his head firmly. As Kiyoshi tried to push Sakurai off, he could feel fingernails raking his scalp, scratching hard while Sakurai forced his tongue into his mouth. Kiyoshi bit down, making Sakurai draw back with a hiss. Anger flashed in Sakurai’s eyes as Kiyoshi stared back at him, frozen in a mix of confusion, shock, and indignation.

The moment Kiyoshi gathered enough of his wits to try get out of this cramped space, he launched himself from the seat and tried to squeeze past Sakurai. But it was futile. Sakurai’s hands bunched up the collar of his shirt and Kiyoshi found himself pinned to the sidewall of the stall with Sakurai’s forearm applying pressure on his shoulders and neck.

Sakurai smirked, a devious expression, as his hand went straight to Kiyoshi’s crotch. His eyes turning salacious, Sakurai leaned in and kissed Kiyoshi again, this time slow and sensual as he matched the rhythm with his palming. Suddenly recalling that his hands were free, Kiyoshi started an attempt to push Sakurai off. But that was all it was. An attempt.

With an annoyed grunt, Sakurai removed his hand from Kiyoshi’s crotch and grabbed both his wrists. Leaning his weight against Kiyoshi, Sakurai stood on one leg, using his other knee to push into Kiyoshi’s crotch. Sakurai’s knee came in too hard, making Kiyoshi groan as he just almost slammed into Kiyoshi’s groin.

Sakurai stuck his tongue into Kiyoshi’s mouth again and Kiyoshi was about to bite down a second time when Sakurai growled, pushing his forearm a little harder against Kiyoshi’s neck. Feeling his throat constrict, Kiyoshi’s jaw went slack and he abandoned the notion of biting. He had no idea what Sakurai was after, nor how far he was willing to go for it but he didn’t quite want to test that.

Deciding to wait for another opening, Kiyoshi pressed his head back against the wall and let Sakurai do his dirty work. If Sakurai thought that he’d gotten his way, he’d let his guard down and Kiyoshi can slip away at that point. Right?

Kiyoshi could taste blood in his mouth as Sakurai swept his tongue against his own. In the back of his mind, Kiyoshi started to wonder how long it would take that bite to heal. Imai would probably kill him if it hindered Sakurai for an extended period of time. He couldn’t hold that thought for long though.

Sakurai’s fingers curled around his balls and gave them a firm squeeze, making Kiyoshi’s mind go blank for the flash of a second. Within moments, Kiyoshi felt heat building in his groin that was further roused by the vibrations on his jeans that were caused by Sakurai’s nails scratching at his crotch. Still pinning Kiyoshi to the wall, Sakurai’s lips left his and he shifted to suck on Kiyoshi’s earlobe. Kiyoshi groaned, suppressing his vocal chords as Sakurai continued coaxing an erection out of him. Another firm grab made Kiyoshi jerk and slam his own body against the wall, pressing against as he felt the strength draining out of his legs.

Before he knew it, Kiyoshi’s fly had come undone and Sakurai was on his knees, licking his excited shaft with his bloodied tongue, leaving faint trails of red on his foreskin. The wound didn’t seem to perturb the man though. Instead, it seemed to spur Sakurai on, as if it was a playful challenge for him to clean up whatever blood he left behind. Sinking lower, Sakurai’s tongue came to the underside of Kiyoshi’s erection and in one smooth motion, Sakurai licked the length of his shaft before sliding Kiyoshi into his mouth.

Kiyoshi’s knees buckled as Sakurai moved. He had to say, this man had skill . Sakurai went in and out, once, twice, then pressed his tongue to Kiyoshi’s glans, teasing his tip as he stroked Kiyoshi’s erection with one hand and massaged his scrotum with the other. Kiyoshi couldn’t resist the pleasure and he moaned, albeit with much restraint. They were in a public bathroom after all.

Hearing the noise Kiyoshi made, Sakurai glanced up at him and winked. Kiyoshi grimaced. He still couldn’t tell what this was about. But, damn if it didn’t feel good.

Going back to solely using his mouth, Sakurai put Kiyoshi in again, this time tightening the space in his mouth as he made Kiyoshi’s tip rub against the ridges on the roof of his mouth. Kiyoshi felt himself bending forward, almost doubling over as his body yearned for more. On impulse, Kiyoshi dug his fingers into Sakurai’s hair, gripping hard as he forced Sakurai to take his dick to the hilt. Kiyoshi thrust his hips, fucking Sakurai’s mouth with wild abandon as if getting back at him for the rough handling earlier. When he came though, it was clear that Sakurai won the round.

Instead of letting Kiyoshi pull out to ejaculate, Sakurai sucked harder, stimulating Kiyoshi even more as he swallowed whatever Kiyoshi had to offer. Kiyoshi moaned and his knees buckled again, this time almost causing him to fall over. He wasn’t expecting such a counter from Sakurai, much less the smug look on his face when he finally let Kiyoshi out of his infernal mouth.

Sitting on the toilet, Kiyoshi panted, looking down at the floor as he hastily rubbed his thighs, still tingling from the stimulation. Fingers came under Kiyoshi’s chin, tilting his head up as he found his mouth against Sakurai’s again, this time tasting iron and salt. The kiss was rough and it ended with Sakurai giving his lower lip a quick nip. Kiyoshi yelped, smacking him away and trying to recoil even as Sakurai kept his chin in a firm hold.

The look in Sakurai’s eyes suddenly turned vicious. “He’ll always be mine,” Sakurai snarled. Throwing Kiyoshi’s chin out of his hold, Sakurai and left the stall without another word, slamming the door as he exited.

Kiyoshi could only stare blankly after him as a lone question sat in his head. What the hell was that?

Chapter Text

Imai had been up late, so consumed by his work composing music and writing lyrics, that even without his headphones piping noisy industrial into his ears he would have never registered the door to his basement studio open and slam shut behind him. He remained completely oblivious up until a strong pair of arms wrapped around his chest from behind. Looking down, he recognized the black manicured hands caressing him through the oversized Snoopy shirt he was wearing and Imai smiled.

“Atsushi, it’s midnight, what are you doing over so late?” He questioned as he pulled his headphones down around his neck before stretching his arms back to find the back of Sakurai’s neck.

“You sent me an email earlier with your new demo and I told you I’d be by to work on it with you.” Sakurai perched his chin on Imai’s shoulder.

“I sent you that in the morning.”

“And I texted you about coming over this afternoon and you never responded,” He pouted, lips brushing against Imai’s ear. Imai reached for his phone, which had been face down on his desk all this time and groaned. He’d forgotten to plug the charger in all the way and it had died who knows how long ago. “Maimai, how long have you been sitting here all day? Have you even gone upstairs to shower at all this week?”

“Yes mother ,” Imai scoffed, knowing Sakurai couldn’t see him rolling his eyes but could at least hear it in his voice as he set his headphones down on the desk, “I took a shower and made some lunch this afternoon. I guess my phone died before you replied then, I’m sorry.”


Sakurai pulled away from Imai in order to turn his desk chair around until they were facing one another. Imai rolled his eyes again, this time with an impish smirk as he looked at the man in front of him.

“It’s the middle of fucking July, Atsushi. What the hell are you doing wearing that ?” Imai pointed at the long black trench coat wrapped tightly around Sakurai. In response, Sakurai merely flashed his bright teeth at Imai while pulling him up to his feet, slowly leading him to walk backwards towards the plush couch in the studio. As Imai felt the couch behind him he allowed himself to fall back onto it. He leaned back watching Sakurai still standing in front of him, curious of what the man had in store for him.


Sakurai stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and glanced at Imai coyly as he swished his hips back and forth.

“I’ve decided that you need a break more than we need to work on that demo you sent me.” He lowered himself to his knees and smiled up at Imai as he folded his hands over his thighs and sat his chin on them. Imai playfully tugged at his hair with one hand and hooked the other behind the couch.

Sakurai continued grinning from ear to ear as he lifted his head up to nuzzle against Imai’s hand and quietly slipped his hands up the baggy gym shorts Imai was wearing, causing him to spread his legs open into his touch. He continued running his hands on Imai’s thighs, careful to avoid any sensitive areas in order to build the anticipation in him.

“Does that ridiculous coat have something to do with your decision?”

“Maybe,” Sakurai said nonchalantly as he reached up to take Imai’s wrist into his hand, bringing it down onto the lapels of his coat, “Why don’t you find out?”

Imai leaned forward with both hands, slowly undoing the buttons of Sakurai’s coat. As he made it part way down his chest Sakurai stood up and took over undressing himself, undoing his coat belt before finishing the buttons down his chest. He made a show of it, letting the coat slide down his shoulders as he went. Finally revealing what was underneath he stopped, holding the coat around his waist as he saw a twinkle of mischief in Imai’s eyes.


Sakurai had been wearing a harness made of black lace, which crisscrossed around him in a pattern that accentuated his broad shoulders and exposed his pecs as it moved down and disappeared into the rest of the trench coat. Carefully, he dropped the coat to his feet and stepped out of the pool of fabric behind him in sleek black pumps that Imai was just now noticing. Gingerly, he bent over to pick up the trench coat, running it up the delicate black stockings held up by garters on the end of the body harness before carefully draping it over the couch seat next to Imai. And only now Imai noticed that the harness, with a few more straps circling Sakurai’s waist and thighs, was the only thing he’d worn. A sharp breath in was all the reaction he gave before steeling his nerves again.

“How the hell is it that you’re standing here buck naked in front of me,” He said flatly as Sakurai took a seat, straddling over him, “But I’m the one feeling underdressed.”

“You’re right,” Sakurai laughed as he pushed his hands up Imai’s shirt, “I think we need to get you feeling… undressed.” Leaning in to kiss Imai, he then brought the shirt up along with Imai’s arms. Pushing the hem of the shirt up over Imai’s arms, he then grabbed him by the wrists and slipped them into the collar of his shirt.

“You’re wasting that fancy little outfit if I can’t see it Acchan.” Imai made a half-hearted struggle to get out of his shirt for show as he felt Sakurai secure the hem of his shirt with something, effectively making a makeshift bind and blindfold from it. Imai laughed as he saw Snoopy’s face screen printed on the fabric staring at him upside down. “Seriously, don’t make me come looking at fucking Cool Joe and Woodstock.” He felt Sakurai tap his nose in response before pushing his knees closed with his own stockinged ones. Imai shuddered as Sakurai dragged his nails down his sides and into his waistband, urging him to lift up his hips as he slid them down to his feet. Imai was still in the beginning stages of arousal from what Sakurai could see, and decided he needed to do something to speed it up.


Imai could feel hot, moist breath ghost over his lap and hands spread his legs open again. As Sakurai took his still soft dick into his mouth, sucking away with abandon, he grunted in frustration since he was unable to see or touch him in response. Sakurai murmured excitedly as Imai grew hard and filled his mouth. Imai whined and rubbed his feet on Sakurai’s kneeling legs.

“Acchan you tease,” he growled as Sakurai pulled his mouth off with a long lick. He was frustrated and started to struggle out of his shirt when suddenly he felt Sakurai reach in and grab his arms, holding them in one hand as he felt himself being pushed to lie against the seat cushions. Imai continued moaning, again more in frustration than arousal, as he felt the weight of Sakurai on top of him.

“Now now, that’s no way to get what you want Maimai,” Sakurai purred. He was sitting on Imai’s thighs facing him, one foot on the floor and one stretched out ahead of him, heel perched on the arm of the couch pinning Imai’s shirt down. He heard Imai sigh dramatically in resignation and he smiled.

“Please Atsushi. Let me see you,” Imai started, knowing what Sakurai wanted to hear, “Let me touch you.”

“Oh come on now, you barely sound like you mean it! You’re staying like that until you can sound more convincing.” Imai continued to struggle underneath him, trying to buck Sakurai off him. Laughing loudly in response, Sakurai instead scooted forward, the lace of his harness rubbing against Imai’s legs until he stopped. Cooing softly, Sakurai looked down between his legs and wrapped a hand around both of their erections and squeezed them together until Imai moaned from pleasure this time.

Rocking his hips, he moved his hand up and down in time and placed his free one firmly in the center of Imai’s chest to give him more leverage. He was going to be disappointed if he ended up not being able to watch Imai’s face as he orgasmed, but he was willing to do it to remind Imai he could be dominating if he wanted.


A series of curses came out of Imai as he succumbed to Sakurai’s touch, and he started begging him to finally remove his shirt.

“God, Acchan, please,” he whined as he arched his back to Sakurai jerking them off in tandem, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Take this off me before I come, please.” Satisfied at Imai’s begging, Sakurai moved his heel off the shirt, allowing Imai to free himself at last.

Imai’s face was flushed and he stared at the incredible sight in front of him with wild eyes. Needing to touch him himself, Imai reached out for Sakurai, hands fingering the lace strapped around his body and dipping under them to touch the few stripes of covered skin. Working his way down to Sakurai’s hips, he gripped them tightly as he rolled the man on top hard against his dick. Sakurai hummed at the feeling and stopped moving his hand, letting Imai’s rolling of his hips grind their heavy dicks together.

“Yeah, shit. So fucking hot.” Imai ran a hand down Sakurai’s leg on the couch and pulled it close enough that he could reach over and tug at the stocking with his teeth as he kept an eye on Sakurai’s lustful face as he continued to grind them together. “Let me come in you, please.”

Hearing Imai’s keening as he kept pulling at the stockings with his teeth, Sakurai was more than willing to give Imai what he was begging for. Leaning forward with his hands on the armrest, Sakurai pushed up and raised his hips up, giving Imai’s hands access to his ass. His eyes trained on Imai’s the entire time, he crinkled them into a devilish expression as he saw the surprise in Imai’s eyes.


“You dirty little slut,” Imai grinned as he tugged at the flat round of silicone stuffed firmly in between Sakurai’s cheeks.

“Pull it out and I’m all yours,” Sakurai whispered into his ear before traced the curves of Imai’s ears with the tip of his tongue. As Imai pulled the butt plug out him, he pushed his forehead into Imai’s shoulder as he was stretched back open by the bulb leaving his body, soft moaning growing harsher as Imai entered him in its stead. After being pushed down to take Imai’s dick in to the hilt, Sakurai was made to sit upright again by Imai, crying out at the feel of his insides shifting around Imai as he straightened up some as well, pushing himself back to lean a bit against the arm rest.

“Did you really come all this way nearly naked with a plugged up ass full of lube?” Imai laughed as Sakurai turned away sheepishly at his question. “Just to give me a break huh?” Finally able to find leverage underneath him, Imai started to buck his hips. Sounds of pleasure rumbled out of him as Sakurai squeezed around him responsively. With the plug that was still in his hand, Imai rubbed it up and down Sakurai’s erection to coat it in the excess lube before tossing it aside and closing his palm around him. With Imai jerking him off and fucking his ass at the same time, Atsushi grabbed on to Imai’s waist and threw his head back with an ecstatic cry, pushing Imai further and harder into him as he purposely squeezed tightly around his dick. As Sakurai finally ejaculated on Imai’s bare skin, he felt Imai grab his hips harshly with both hands and thrust into him until he found his own release. Imai sank back into the couch and Sakurai turned to rest his head against the couch as well, both of them panting and softly moaning from the intensity of their orgasms.

Eventually, Sakurai closed his eyes and fell back to lay on the couch, feeling Imai slide out from underneath him.

As he regained control of his body, he opened his eyes to a reclothed Imai, carefully cleaning him off with a damp washcloth. Pushing to sit up with his elbows, Sakurai took the cloth from Imai’s hands and brought Imai up to his face for a slow, gentle kiss.


“Always such a gentleman Imai,” Sakurai breathed as he pulled away from his lips. “Well, now that I’ve got you in the right mindset, how about we go find some late night dinner somewhere and talk this song over.”

“What, and sit with you in that Flasher’s Special in public ?”

Sakurai laughed loudly in response. “Imai, you really need to either learn to lock your basement door or become more perceptive,” he pointed at a small duffle bag sitting beside the door. “Of course I brought a proper set of clothes, did you expect me to go home looking like this?”

Imai groaned, going to pick up the bag and toss it at the man now cackling wildly on his couch.

“Hurry up and get dressed then! You’re picking up the bill for dinner too, by the way.”


“Oh, how quickly chivalry has died I see!”

Chapter Text

Yuta found himself drinking with Hide in his room again. Their manager was out, supposedly having a meeting with some other guy from the industry about promotions or something. His brother was… well, enjoying the female attention that they were getting from their newfound fame. Who could blame him? Yuta wouldn’t mind having that either. The only problem was that the only kind of comments he ever got from women were “How cute!”.

Yuta scoffed, downing more alcohol as he did. ‘Cute’. It didn’t help that he was known as the youngest one in the band, the younger brother to the drummer. The biggest factor evokes that ‘cute’ comment was definitely his stature though. The smallest one in the band. ‘Smallest’.

Setting his glass down with a clatter, Yuta refilled his drink and downed it again. He glanced over at Hide, his shoulder-length hair all over the place as he sat slumped over on the couch next to him. He’s always been a quiet drinking partner and he was so quiet that Yuta detected no difference between him being awake or asleep, as he was now.


Yuta crossed his legs, resting his elbow on his knee as he propped his head up in his hand. He remembered the days when Hide used to play for the soccer team in school. His physique has always been a point of envy for Yuta. Tall, athletic, good looking. Needless to say, he has always been popular with the girls. Basically everything Yuta wanted to be, but will never be.

Yuta sighed and stood up. He should be getting back to his own room. His older brother should be done with whatever fuckery he was up to by now. He should probably let Hide know first though.

Shuffling over through the tight gap between the couch and the coffee table, Yuta put a hand on Hide’s shoulder and shook him. “Hey, I’m gonna head back.”

Hide was dead drunk and fast asleep.

Yuta shook him harder. “Oy, do you hear me? Hide?”

Hide grunted, sleepily dropping his hand over Yuta’s.

“If you’re gonna sleep, wouldn’t you rather move to the bed?” Yuta asked, shaking Hide again.

Nodding slowly, Hide mumbled, “Take me…”

“Oh, right. Sure,” Yuta muttered. Taking Hide’s arm, Yuta pulled him up and put it over his shoulder. “C’mon, get up.”

Hide was bigger than Yuta. Much bigger. In fact, Yuta wasn’t very useful as a lean-on with the size difference. It was proven when Hide merely tumbled to the carpeted floor as he barely stood up, pinning Yuta under him.

“Did you even try to stand?” Yuta seethed, squirming under Hide.

Hide moved, but not the way Yuta expected him to. Instead of getting up, Hide closed his arms around Yuta, hugging him as he nuzzled against the side of Yuta’s face. Yuta froze. What was Hide doing?

A quiet murmur came from Hide. “Cute.” Incensed, Yuta was about to protest when Hide continued, “Petite…” Hide’s embrace tightened a fraction. “Sexy…” his sleepy voice breathed in Yuta’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Not in a bad way though.

Yuta swallowed. Was Hide aware of who he was holding on to?

Hide’s hands started moving again, running up and down Yuta’s back until his tee hitched high enough for his hands to slip under and onto Yuta’s skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, Yuta arched his back, unintentionally pushing his pelvis against Hide’s. His breath hitched again as his leg accidentally brushed against Hide’s groin. He wasn’t hard. Yet.

Out of nowhere, Hide suddenly settled down. His hands went lax again as he breathed in deep and flopped onto his back, leaving Yuta hanging. Yuta sat up and stared at Hide’s sleeping form, feeling relieved yet… largely unsatisfied. Odd.

Yuta sat next to Hide, pensive. Thinking about it, he had always held or been held by girls smaller than him. Being held by someone bigger than him… By Hide, no less…

Leaning over, Yuta continued staring at Hide, taking in his every feature. His high cheekbones, strong jaw, stubborn chin… Basically all the features that Yuta’s softer face lacked. The epitome of manliness.

Feeling the sudden urge to touch his face, Yuta brought his hand close to Hide but Hide suddenly sighed and turned his head to face Yuta, startling him and making him freeze again. He seemed like he was still asleep. He probably shouldn’t wake, right?

Yuta tentatively touched his fingers to Hide’s jaw, feeling the beginnings of his stubble against his fingertips. No reaction. Growing bolder, Yuta let his fingers trail over Hide’s cheek.

Hide sighed again and his lips parted. Yuta froze for a moment, waiting to see if Hide was coming to. He didn’t. Gathering his wits about him again, Yuta edged closer, letting his fingers continue their path until he brushed his thumb over Hide’s lips. He paused and stared, as if hypnotised. They felt soft under his thumb. But… what if… against his own…?

Driven by impulse, Yuta inched closer, brushing his own lips against Hide’s. The more they touched, the closer he went, and eventually, Yuta found himself kissing Hide’s surprisingly soft lips.

It wasn’t long before Yuta realised that Hide was responding favourably, kissing him back even if he wasn’t completely conscious. Anxious as he was, Yuta didn’t want to stop. Instead, he felt… excited. Leaning in even closer, Yuta naturally put a hand on Hide’s chest. He glanced down at Hide’s half-unbuttoned shirt. Sliding his hand under Hide’s shirt, Yuta smoothed his hand over the hairs on Hide’s chest, bringing it to the firm muscles on the crook of his neck.

Yuta could feel Hide’s large hands under his shirt again, one on the shallow curve of his waist, caused by his bending over, and the other reaching up his back, pushing Yuta’s tee higher with it. From his waist, Hide’s hand slid down to Yuta’s hip, pushing at the waistband of Yuta’s jeans as he slipped in and under his briefs. Yuta’s breath hitched as he froze again, surprised and embarrassed with what Hide was doing.

Moving again, Hide’s embrace grew tighter, bringing Yuta up to straddle his waist. Hugging Yuta to his chest, Hide pressed his face into Yuta’s hair, muttering something incomprehensible as his hand continued groping Yuta’s ass. Breathing shallow, Yuta felt torn. He had no idea if they should go any further, especially with Hide half conscious, yet at the same time, being held and groped by Hide was so arousing .

With his tee bunching up at his armpits, it was starting to irritate Yuta and he folded his arms in, finally removing his tee. Noticing Yuta’s lack of a shirt, Hide ran his hands over Yuta’s body again, tracing the side of his body as he squeezed Yuta’s butt cheek hard. Yuta’s face scrunched up in silence, his voice trapped in his throat as he forced it down. Looking at Hide’s sleeping face, completely innocent compared to what he was doing with Yuta, he felt himself getting hard, a heat rushing to his lower half.

Reaching up to Hide’s jaw, Yuta felt Hide’s stubble grazing against his mouth as he kissed, the rough texture a vast contrast to his lips. As he shifted down to smoother territory on Hide’s neck, Hide reacted, tilting his head back with a soft groan and a sigh. Yuta continue moving lower, his tongue tracing Hide’s collarbone and his lips ghosting over Hide’s pecs.

Hide’s hands moved with Yuta. When his ass got too low to grab comfortably, Hide gave it one final squeeze before letting his hand slip out of Yuta’s jeans. One hand was now on the small of Yuta’s back while the other was on the back of his neck.

Undoing the last few buttons on Hide’s shirt as he slid lower, Yuta felt his fingers brush against the hair on Hide’s abdomen, leading down into his jeans and towards a bulge. Yuta glanced down. Hide was hard too. Simply reacting, Yuta unfastened Hide’s jeans and pulled down his fly, cupping a hand on Hide’s crotch.

Reacting to Yuta’s touch, Hide let out a shaky breath and pulled his foot in, folding his leg and letting it fall to the side as his hand scratched lightly at Yuta’s neck.

The gentle scratching felt pleasant to Yuta, sending warm tingles through his body. While he was massaging Hide through the fabric of his underwear, Yuta was suddenly struck with the curiosity of how big Hide was when erect. Yuta’s seen it tons of times in shared baths but that was when things were relaxing. Now though…

Yuta carefully put his hands around Hide’s hips, hoping not to wake him as he slid his fingers under the elastic and slowly slid his briefs off, revealing Hide’s stiff erection. Yuta barely batted an eyelid at it, frowning slightly as he stood up and took his own jeans and briefs off. Crouching back down, he positioned his own erection next to Hide’s… Huh. The almost the same. Interesting.

With Hide’s legs conveniently spread open, Yuta’s eyes travelled down Hide’s groin, past his balls and to his butt. He glanced at his own erection, then back at Hide’s posterior. Maybe…? Possibly? Yuta shifted closer. Biting the inside of his cheek, Yuta nervously brought his hand to Hide’s crotch as he watched for Hide’s expression.

At the slightest touch, Hide wrinkled his nose and sighed, frowning slightly as Yuta began to massage him, fingers curling under his balls to press at his perineum. Hide’s breathing quickened, legs moving again and as he shifted, so did his pants, sliding lower to give Yuta more access.

Yuta kept up with his deliberate manner as he assisted Hide with removing his bottoms. He was still wary of waking Hide. As he let his fingers travel lower, he brushed them against Hide’s anus, eliciting a sharp breath and a louder sigh from Hide. This stronger reaction startled Yuta but he did not stop the teasing that his callused fingertips brought.

As Yuta slowly pushed his finger in, Hide jerked his body, sighing even louder as his expression turned into a slack-jawed grimace. Hide’s lack of wakefulness emboldened Yuta, while the change in expression to something bordering on lustful as his entire finger went in, excited Yuta. He had never seen such an expression on him before. Watching Hide enjoy the thrusting of his finger made his groin warm again and Yuta began to wonder what kind of face Hide will show him if it was him inside instead of his finger.

Removing his finger, Yuta positioned himself and spat in his hand, applying emergency lubrication on himself before pushing the tip of his erection against Hide’s entrance. Already, Hide started responding to the change as his legs spread further apart. Eager to feel himself in Hide, Yuta started to push in to the larger man, still exercising restraint to not do it too violently.

This time, Hide’s voice came out in a soft moan with his sighs as he tossed his head to the side. That was encouraging. Putting his hands on either side of Hide, Yuta braced himself and started to thrust, quickly losing himself to the pleasure of penetrating Hide, who appeared to be enjoying himself as well. The warmth and tightness of Hide’s ass worked well in pleasuring Yuta, building the tension in him.

When Yuta felt his body tense up, he hastily pulled out of Hide, sliding his foreskin back over his penis in a quick grab. That was close. He almost made a mess. Yuta promptly stood up, dick in hand as he glanced at Hide, who has now fallen silent and still again. He swallowed and took quick strides to the bathroom. He’d have to take care of Hide after he was done with cleaning up. Yuta didn’t take his time, it was of the essence after all. Putting on his briefs and jeans, Yuta left his bottoms unfastened as he started to adjust Hide’s jeans as well.

“Yu… taka…” Yuta froze and slowly turned. Hide’s eyes have cracked open.

“Hey…” Hide beckoned.

Yuta hesitantly crawled over. How was Hide going to react to this? As he came up to Hide, Yuta met his eyes and muttered, “Yeah?”

Before Yuta could realise what was happening, Hide grabbed hold of him and picked him up, throwing him onto the bed. “What-?!”

Pinning Yuta under him, Hide muttered groggily, “Lend me your ass.” Yuta didn’t have the time to fit a word in as Hide pressed his mouth against Yuta’s, leading him into a rough kiss. Breaking apart momentarily, Hide added, “Just for a bit.”

Yuta felt smothered under the bigger man’s sudden intensity. He was completely enveloped in Hide’s one-armed embrace as his other hand worked to pull Yuta’s bottoms off again. Pressed to Hide’s chest, Yuta felt his face warming up accompanied by an unusual churn of emotions in the pit of his stomach. Yuta felt like his body registered every sensation even more acutely now. From the cold sheets of the bed under him, to cool air on his bare legs, to Hide’s large callused hands caressing his body, to the sheen of sweat that began to build on Hide’s skin.

Forcing his arms out from under Hide, Yuta wrapped them around his broad back, gripping tight as he felt his head start to spin from the intensity. The moment Hide pushed into Yuta, he cried out and felt his ball of emotions melt away, dissolving into waves of pleasure that wracked his body as Hide thrust into him. The energy that Hide possessed was as if a sleeping beast had woken from its slumber. He held Yuta in his arms, back curved as he kissed the neck of the petite man under him, now dazed from the over-stimulation.

The next thing Yuta knew was Hide pulling out, followed by a warm wet sensation on his stomach. Yuta finally relaxed, feeling exhausted as he let his body go limp and sank into the bed. Hide’s hands continued to roam Yuta’s body, tracing lines with his fingers as he nuzzled against Yuta. As his mind drifted, Yuta felt his eyes closing when Hide moved. Out of nowhere, Yuta felt Hide enter him again and his mind’s eye flashed white before it went blank.

When Yuta woke up, the ache in his body was phenomenal. Rolling over in the bed, he tried to move but he could only moan in pain as he lay on his side. Opening his eyes a little wider, sunlight streamed into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. Yuta squeezed his eyes shut but immediately forced them open again as panic hit him. The sun was up. He was supposed to go back to his room.

Groaning as he sat up, Yuta tried to make it off the bed when the toilet door opened and Hide stepped out. When their eyes met, both men froze, staring at each other in silence for a moment before Hide rushed over and knelt on the bed.

“I must apologise,” he said, pressing his forehead to the sheets.

“Huh?” Yuta muttered, taken aback. Shouldn’t he be the one apologising?

“I… think I went overboard last night,” Hide explained, refusing to look at Yuta. “I think I… hurt you quite badly. And I’m truly sorry… So, please. Forgive me.”

“Oh.” Yuta blinked. Wasn’t it partly his fault though? “Uh… I, actually…”

“I can understand if you don’t want to accept my apology,” Hide muttered, sitting up slowly.

“Huh? No! No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Yuta said quickly. “I just… my brother-”

“I called your room and told him you fell asleep here while we were drinking,” Hide said. “He was alright with that.”

“Ah. I see, okay… Okay,” Yuta nodded, rubbing his eyes. At least he didn’t have to deal with his brother freaking out over him not being back in their room.

“I… also… helped you clean up…”

It was only then that Yuta looked down at himself and realised that he was wearing the yukata provided by the hotel. Yuta felt his face heat up. That was… particularly considerate of Hide. “Um… thanks,” he muttered.

“Please don’t tell Ani what happened,” Hide pleaded quietly.

Yuta looked at Hide’s face. He looked unusually anxious. Considering how protective his brother could get, Yuta could understand his worry though. Swallowing, Yuta said, “I won’t mention a thing if you don’t.”

Hide seemed to relax slightly at these words. “Deal,” he nodded. “Still… I’m sorry…” Hide repeated, his shoulders slumping.

“Argh, it’s fine, don’t fret it,” Yuta said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s not like I really… mind…”

Yuta felt his heart stop and he fell silent, staring at the sheets in front of him with large eyes. He could feel Hide’s surprised stare on him. What did he just say? Why did he say that? Oh god, this is awkward.

Hide started laughing, sounding somewhat nervous. Yuta followed suit, laughing with him as they intermittently punctuated their laughs with the statement “just joking”. Eventually, the laughter died down and the awkward silence came back.

Refusing to let it drag out, Hide piped up, “Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Though I think I need something stronger than that,” Yuta groaned, flopping back down on the bed.

“Extra strong it is,” Hide decided, leaving the bed and heading to the dresser to start up the coffee machine.

The fragrance of coffee filled the room and Yuta found himself staring at Hide’s back as he struggled to recall what else happened last night. Turning around, Hide approached Yuta again and sat on the edge of the bed. As Yuta sat up, Hide handed a cup of coffee to him without a word and there they sat, enjoying their respective drinks in their usual comfortable silence until it was time to leave.

Chapter Text

Imai frowned at the contents of the box he had just opened.


Recently, he and Sakurai had taken to going out to places together in disguise. Not so much for any kind of roleplaying that ended in the bedroom, although it did happen sometimes, but out of a desperate want to be able to have something together close to the dates they could have with others, specifically women.

Sakurai, with his gorgeous long hair and natural poise, had been more than happy to play the part of the loving girlfriend when they went out. In fact, this whole thing had been his idea from the start including him being the one in drag for it.


“So why the fuck does he want me to play the part this time?”


The clothing box, which Sakurai had delivered to Imai’s hotel room this morning, contained an outfit made for a woman built like Imai, which he didn’t think was a very womanly frame at all if you’d asked him. At least it was simple, Imai thought. As he removed the contents of the box to spread onto the bed, a dark blue long sleeved dress that went down to his knees, a pair of velvety grey ankle boots with a heel, and a pair of sheer tights. It was a cute outfit he admitted, despite being frustrated at the idea of needing to shave his legs today. He then took out a long rectangular jewelry box and set it aside as well, before carefully opening a parcel wrapped in tissue paper.

Inside had been a set of lingerie, made of white lace and satin, and two small pads of something that Imai couldn’t immediately understand.

Now that everything was ready, Imai headed to take a shower -- and shave.


Sakurai sat in the hotel bar, nursing a beer as he watched the entrance waiting for his date to arrive. As the time passed, he found himself becoming the center of attention as women, and even a few men, would stop by his table in an attempt to pick him up. He gently brushed them off, one after another, silently laughing as he realized that none of them noticed who he really was. He’d scoffed the first time Toll had brought it up as a suggestion, but it turned out he was right. All it took was a pair of glasses like the rectangular black rimmed ones he wore right now, and he was suddenly incognito. It was ridiculous, but all the same he was thankful for it.

He was debating on ordering a second drink or not, when the woman he was waiting for finally stepped in.


She walked in, heels heavy on the floor as she looked around nervously for her date.  Her short blonde pixy cut had been parted on one side and slicked back on the sides, contrasting with the baby bangs gelled into little spikes going down her forehead. One hand nervously played with a glass beaded lariat necklace she was wearing over her sweetheart neckline, the other clutching the body of the chain-linked crossbody bag she had on. The skirt of her dress swished softly against her pale stockinged thighs as she finally caught sight of Sakurai with her cat-eye lined eyes and made her way to sit opposite him.


“Typical women to keep their date waiting while they get all prettied up, eh Maimai?” Sakurai chuckled as Imai stuck his tongue out from between his perfectly painted red lips in retaliation.

“Well, if a certain typical man wouldn’t change plans at the last minute without notifying me. You know, it took me a while to figure out how to put this damned necklace on! It’s so weird too, how the beads are in this pattern.”

Sakurai bit the inside of his mouth as he took a better look at what was around Imai’s neck to hold back another laugh. “Ah, well I’m sorry about that. I have to say however, you do look stunning. I’ll let the Valet know we’re leaving, do you want something to drink while we wait for my car before I close the tab?”

Imai smirked and batted his eyes before saying with a sultry voice, “Why Acchan, are you trying to get me drunk before we even have our date?”


The date Sakurai planned was something he and Imai missed being able to do once their rocket to fame made it impossible for them to do anything alone, much less with any of the other band members. As he pulled up to the museum, he helped Imai out before going around to park. Once Sakurai returned to the entrance, Imai ran up to greet him with an embrace.

“Ah! You got us tickets to the Russian art exhibit!” Imai nearly squealed in delight, taking Sakurai by the hand as they walked in together.


Hours in the museum turned into an evening at a fancy restaurant where the waiter was outmatched by the young woman’s wine pairing knowledge turned into Sakurai guiding a giggly drunk Imai back to his hotel room. Sakurai was pinned to the door by Imai once it shut, his hands fumbling for grip on his shirt as he pulled him into a kiss, laughing even more as he saw the lipstick smear on Sakurai as he pulled away, turning to move to the bed. Halfway across the room, Imai found himself being held firm by Sakurai.

Sakurai craned his face, finally clear of the obstructive plastic frames, into the crook of Imai's neck, breathing him in deeply before planting small kisses behind his ear, humming in contentment as he felt Imai shiver. Running his hands up Imai's slightly nipped in waist he stopped as he reached the two gentle curves on his chest and started squeezing down and massaging them.

“Acchan," Imai giggled as he brought a hand up to cup the back of Sakurai's neck, “I was wondering when you were going to try to get your hands on those. You've been trying to be sneaky but I've caught you staring all day.” His chest had never quite been one of his most sensitive areas, and now Sakurai’s gropes were all for nothing as they squeezed into the two stuffed pads held in the cups of his bra. Nevertheless, Imai played along, arching his back so he would push his chest further into Sakurai's hands as he sighed in contentment.

As Sakurai fondled Imai's chest, he continued kissing his neck and jaw, turning Imai around just enough for their mouths to meet. While Imai was eagerly sucking at his bottom lip Sakurai trailed a hand down Imai’s dress until he could slip his hand under. Slowly caressing one of the nylon covered thighs hidden underneath, Sakurai tilted Imai's head back more as he took advantage of a moan to kiss him deeper. His hand snaked further up Imai's leg until it stopped in between them as he came to the satin crotch of Imai's panties and the barely contained bulge behind them. Sakurai moved to lick a path down Imai's neck as he was falling limp in his arms, moaning unbridled from Sakurai palming the satin with pressure.

Imai's heels brought him up enough that Sakurai could have easily taken him from behind while they stood in the middle of the hotel room, but that wasn't quite what he had in store for them that night. Pushing Imai forward, he tried not to laugh as he stumbled forward and drunkenly face planted into the bed. As he came up behind him he bent down to get a good squeeze of Imai's ass in panties before turning him onto his back with a grin that barely keep back his laughter.


“Did you really put your underwear on over your stockings?” He finally laughed as Imai weakly kicked at him, just slow enough that Sakurai caught the heel in his hands and began to remove it from his feet.

“Ah well," Imai stuttered, “Y-y’know… These are really cute. Seemed like a shame to cover them with hose…”

Pulling off his other boot, Sakurai continued to chuckle softly as he stepped out of his own dress shoes, eager to get out of the trappings of his clothes as well. Imai simply watched as Sakurai removed his black buttoned up shirt and slowly kneeled on the bed by Imai’s face.

“Mmm, I figured you'd be too drunk to fool with buttons so I thought I'd give you a hand. You're still sober enough to handle this though,” he took one of Imai's hands and placed it on the front of his pants, “Aren't you, my pretty Maimai?”


Sakurai stood still as he watched Imai slowly bring himself to a sitting position. With his hands on Sakurai's belt, Imai looked up giving him and expression that made him growl low in his chest.

Lips set slightly apart, the smudged lipstick on his pouty lower lip was an erotic sight for Sakurai. He needed to feel those lips wrap around him, to dirty up Imai inside and out, but first.


“Sweet Maimai, let's get you out of that dress before it gets messy first alright?” Without any hesitation, Imai moved his hands away from Sakurai's pants, successfully unbuckled and unzipped, and lifted the dress up and over his head before laying back to show off his lingerie to Sakurai.

With one hand stretched up and behind his head, Imai rolled the end bead of his necklace between two fingers before moving down to remove the false breasts from inside the cups of his lace bustier. Running his hand further down, Imai trailed down the boning of the bustier and stopped once he reached the high cut waistband of his panties, fingers delicately tracing the top of them.


Sakurai fought back an intense urge to rip off the panties and stockings right then and there. Instead, he reached down to pull off Imai's necklace by the silver hoop at the end and swung it back and forth by a crooked finger.

“Honestly Imai, as cute as you were with perky little tits tonight, this was what I kept staring at.” He passed the necklace between two fingers on his other hand, starting from the bead by the hoop all the way to the end, the space between his fingers shrinking as the beads did as well.

Reaching the end of the necklace, he laughed and settled into the space between Imai's legs and dangled it in front of the confused looking man.

“Silly sweet Maimai, these were for you to wear, but inside of you.”


Imai swallowed hard as he realized what he had been wearing around his neck all day.


“And you let me walk around all day with that on me, showing it off to the whole world?” Imai was flustered with embarrassment, and continued ranting up at Sakurai until he was silenced by the beads being shoved in his mouth. He wanted to bite down and take the string of beads out of Sakurai's hands but Imai remembered that he'd just recently filled that gap in his teeth finally and shouldn't risk damaging his dental work. Sakurai's smug laughing face still pissed him off however, and he needed to get some payback.

Opening his mouth slowly, Imai made a display of caressing the beads with his tongue, working up saliva to coat them in as he closed his lips around the tip of Sakurai's finger still holding the loop and sucked hard. He kept his heavy lidded eyes locked with the pair above him as he moved his head to the side, allowing the beads to slide out of his mouth one by one before he brought them noisily back into his mouth.

Sakurai left Imai to suck on the beads as he pulled down his underclothes just enough to expose his backside, which he turned Imai over onto his side to get easy access of.

Roughly kneading the mound of flesh and muscle of Imai's ass with one hand, Sakurai used the other to retrieve the string of beads from Imai's mouth. Imai made a show of the beads exiting, holding his mouth wide open and sticking out his tongue to give them all one last lick. Sakurai curled his mouth up in a wicked smile as he saw the glint of saliva dripping down his face.


“You know Maimai, it's kind of a shame you misjudged what this was.” He pushed the smallest bead in first with only the slightest resistance. “I had kind of kept myself up all night at the thought of carrying around with you all day with these hidden deep inside you.” As the beads increased in size, he finally heard a quiet grunt from Imai. “How long would you have been able to stand it? Feeling these beads move around you in public while having to keep a straight face.” Imai whimpered and pushed his face into the mattress as the beads began to stretch him open more and more each time. “How long would it have been until maybe you would have been begging me to give you even more?” He was needlessly slow with the final, largest bead, relishing in watching Imai’s ass stretch open around it before it swallowed it all on it's own. Hooking his finger in the pull loop, he pushed and tugged on it just enough to hear Imai cry out.

Pulling the stockings and panties back over Imai's hips he then gave him a hard open palmed smack across his ass, making Imai yelp from both the sting and the feel of the beads shuffling around in him. The string of beads had been so long that along with the fancy padded box they had been sent in it had been hard to think it had been anything more than a questionably designed piece of ornamentation. But now, feeling their cool material chill him as they filled him up, he felt even sillier about his mistake.

Imai rolled over onto his back and let out a drawn out cry as he felt the beads push up into his abdomen, making his hips buck involuntarily as the pleasure shot up into his painfully hard erection as well. Sakurai put a hand down his own pants in response, squeezing and stroking in time with Imai's futile air humping, until he pushed them down to his knees along with his boxers and used a finger to call Imai near.


Imai struggled to move quietly but eventually crawled forward, Sakurai having moved to waving his dick to get his attention. Once he was close enough, Imai languidly opened his mouth again continuing to crawl forward until he felt Sakurai in the back of his throat.

Using the same maddingly slow and erotic technique he had with the beads, Imai allowed Sakurai to hold onto the sides of his head and move him to his liking.

Sakurai moaned as he started to roll his hips in time with Imai's head, relishing in the wetness of Imai’s mouth sloppily working him over. Moving his hands to the top of Imai’s head in search of enough hair to grip Sakurai thrusted roughly into his mouth with harsh panting as he came to his release.

Falling back to sit on the bed he tried to laugh between catching his breath. Imai had stayed on all fours in a daze as semen leaked out a corner of his now puffy bruised mouth. Sakurai knew he wanted to move but was looking terrified to shift the beads in him again.

Wanting to help him out, Sakurai took him by his shoulders and pushed him down quick and rough to sit back before pushing him down on his back so hard that Imai bounced a few times. The screams he made as he felt everything shuffle inside of him were more than enough to give Sakurai his second wind. And as Imai was weakly trying to keep the beads pressing up on his prostate again, he made a sound of protest as Sakurai picked up his hips and finally stripped his bottom half bare.

Kicking off his own pants that had been caught around his ankles, Sakurai then hovered over Imai and his spread open legs, barely letting their erections graze against each other before sitting back again. Imai looked as if he was at the edge of his own orgasm, his breathing shallow as his dick leaked out onto his stomach.


“You want to come, don't you dear Maimai?” Imai nodded in response and cursed under his breath as Sakurai pressed a knuckle into his perineum, rolling it against the sensitive skin until Imai bit down a cry into the back of his hand as he pushed back against him. Imai was currently in a state that Sakurai rarely saw him in. All flushed and glistening in sweat, his chest rising in short pants under the bustier. The way his eyeliner began to run down his rougeless pink cheeks brought more attention to those parted lips that begged him to kiss them into submission. He needed to make him beg more first.

“Maimai?" Imai responded with a soft noise. “I need you to fuck yourself on those beads until you come. I won't touch you myself until you do.” Imai’s moan came out strangled from the shock of Sakurai's demand, but he complied, grinding his ass into the mattress in time with his hand stroking himself. Sakurai moved to retrieve a small bottle of lube he'd had in his pants pocket in case his planned scenario of taking Imai in public had come to fruition.

His eyes shut tightly as he threw his head back, chanting 'Acchan’ as he forced the beads packing his ass to push against his walls as they moved. His hand was barely gripping his erection as he used the beads to push him over the edge with a scream of Sakurai's name, coming erratically all over himself from the force of stimulating his prostate to orgasm.


As the stars blocking his sight cleared, Imai groaned in exhaustion as he saw Sakurai position himself between his legs. One hand was pumping his hard waiting dick, slicked in lube, while the other one reached down below Imai’s rapidly softening erection. Sakurai pulled the beads out with such a swift motion that Imai found himself hyperventilating as he rolled over and weakly tried to crawl away. It was in vain as he was quickly pinned down by Sakurai, one hand firm against his shoulder while his legs were squeezed together by his knees.

Feeling Sakurai rubbing against his entrance he began to sob wildly.


“A-Acchan! P-p-please! I… I…” his pleas were cut by the sensation of Sakurai entering his already abused asshole.

“Need me in you?” Sakurai let out a groan of relief as he pushed all the way into Imai.


Starting to feel Sakurai fuck away into him with abandon, tears spilled freely out of Imai's eyes as he cried loudly. Sakurai wasn't hurting him, but he couldn't handle the constant pressure against his prostate anymore. Feeling it build to a climax his flaccid member was in no position to give, he gave a long, drawn out moan as all the muscles in his body tensed up. Suddenly, the tension pushed out of him as he was taken over by a euphoric sensation and he lied limply underneath Sakurai, moaning softly as the feeling crashed over and over on him like the sea against the shore.

Coming back to Earth, Imai focused on the feel of Sakurai's pace and the sound of his breathing as he was quickly making his way to his second orgasm of the night as well. He felt something warm and wet fall on his back as Sakurai wordlessly came with a grunt and crashed down on the bed beside Imai.

Sakurai wrapped his arms around Imai and pulled his back flush against his chest while he tried to slow his breathing.


Imai groaned weakly, “I'm such a fucking mess now." In response, Sakurai held him tighter and sighed deeply into his shoulder.

“We both are, Hisashi. Tomorrow's a late check-out, just sleep for now."

Moving to stroke Imai's cheek, Sakurai shook in silent laughter as he realized that the man had already passed out.

Chapter Text

“Imai, I don’t understand how you’d consider this… sexy. In any way. At all.” Atsushi’s voice came out of an orange mascot cat which had its hands, or paws, on its hips. “Where did you even get this from?!”

“A friend’s friend’s studio was trying to make space in storage when they mentioned this cat costume-”

“This is not what ‘cat costume’ refers to,” Atsushi fumed, throwing his paws in the air.

“You could do a strip tease?” Imai suggested, grinning. He was on the verge of laughing.

“This is not sexy at all,” Atsushi ranted, plodding around the room as he paced. “It’s hot, it smells like sweat -”

“Fine, fine. You can take it off,” Imai laughed. “On the plus side, you look very cute and friendly.”

Lifting the heavy headpiece, Atsushi’s scowled at Imai. His long fringe covered half his face, plastered to his skin from his perspiration. Tucking the headpiece under an arm, Atsushi struggled to sweep his hair out of his face with his paw. “I. Can’t. Even. Fix. My. Hair,” he huffed as his scowl darkened.

“There, there,” Imai cooed, walking over and brushing Atsushi’s fringe away for him. Annoyed at Imai, Atsushi made a low snarling noise at the back of his throat as he continued scowling.

Chuckling, Imai continued adjusting Atsushi’s hair when Atsushi suddenly felt a soft headband of sorts snap onto his head. “Aw, look at your soft fluffy ears,” Imai grinned as his hands fondled something on his head.

Atsushi frowned. Shaking the obstructive paws off his hands, he reached up and touched what Imai just put on him. Fluffy, triangular-shaped, stuffed cushions attached to a velvet headband…? Confused, Atsushi muttered, “What…?” Turning around, Atsushi looked into the mirror and finally figured out what it was. “Cat ears…”

“Not bad, ey? They’re black too.” Imai had a smug smirk on his face as he stood behind Atsushi.

Spinning around, Atsushi bared his teeth and hissed at Imai. “You had a proper set all along!”

Imai burst out laughing, taking a step back. “I thought it’d be funny… if you really did a striptease… wearing that…” he blurted between fits of laughter.

Atsushi picked up a paw and hurled it at Imai. “You!” He picked up another and tossed it as well. “Fucking!” He finally picked up the head with both hands and threw it too. “SHIT!”

Still laughing, Imai dodged the paws as he stepped backward but he had to catch the head as he hit the desk behind him. “So cute…” Imai remarked, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve as tears came to his eyes.

Piqued by Imai’s mischief, Atsushi turned away from him and sat down on the floor in a huff, hands stretching back to try and reach the top zipper that would free Atsushi from the body of the suit. Imai watched Atsushi try and fail to reach the zipper as his laughter faded away. Thinking for a moment, he asked, “Do you need help with that?”

“No!” came Atsushi’s petulant reply.

Imai scrunched up his face and scratched his chin. He should probably ignore that refusal. Picking something else up from the desk, Imai approached Atsushi and squat down behind him. “Here, I’ll get it,” Imai muttered, ignoring Atsushi’s wilful swatting at his hands.

Pulling the zip down, the suit folded on itself, opening up to unveil the pale skin of Atsushi’s bare back. Imai smirked to himself. “You seriously chose to wear nothing else under this?” he asked.

“I have underwear on,” Atsushi replied curtly. Having given up with trying to make Imai leave him alone, he now sat motionless and hunched on the floor.

Imai hummed in acknowledgement when he met with a jam on the zipper track. “Ah, wait, it’s a bit stuck,” he said, finding a pause in the undressing.

Atsushi scoffed, barely reacting as he waited patiently. Suddenly, he felt something wrap around his neck. Atsushi slapped a hand to his throat, surprised, and heard the light tinkling of a bell coming from what he now realised was a collar at his neck. Groping around in shock, he could feel the velvety material fitted around his neck and the small bell that adorned the front of the collar. He heard the zipper continue it’s path down and he spun around, eyes wide and flashing at Imai as his bell announced his movement.

Imai merely met his indignant gaze with a smirk and asked, “What?”

“What is this?” Atsushi hissed.

“Bell,” Imai answered, flicking a finger at the said item and making it tinkle, “for cat.” Atsushi scowled again and Imai’s smirk grew wider. Paying him no need, Imai finally got the zip down to the end of the track and poked Atsushi’s back. “You can get out now.”

Stepping away, Imai watched Atsushi stand up and the mascot outfit fell away, this time revealing Atsushi’s idea of ‘underwear’. With his back still facing Imai, Atsushi’s bare ass was on full display for him. Straps from the waistband ran down the sides around Atsushi’s thighs. As he turned around, Imai found the front surprisingly modest, looking like a mere black thong that held Atsushi’s balls and cock quite well despite the surprise in the back. How convenient. Imai beckoned Atsushi, resisting the urge to smile too much as the bell tinkled with every step.

“What?” Atsushi muttered curtly.

“Is this ‘cat’ enough for you yet?” Imai asked, this time letting his smile grow wider.

Atsushi’s hand briefly touched the cat ears on his head, then moved down to roll the bell between his fingers. “I suppose,” he muttered.

“There is something else though,” Imai said.

“What?” Atsushi asked again.

Sliding an arm around Atsushi’s waist, Imai pulled him closer, making them stand pelvis to pelvis as his hand moved to grope Atsushi’s ass. Atsushi’s nose wrinkled slightly as he resisted the urge to show how much he liked it. Imai simply smiled. Without a word, he spread Atsushi’s cheeks apart and pushed something into Atsushi’s exposed asshole, surprising Atsushi.

Gasping, Atsushi pushed away and stumbled back, hands reaching back to figure out what Imai put on him now. The moment he touched his butt, Atsushi’s fingers felt something soft and fluffy, but lighter, more airy than the ears on his head. Frantically turning around as the bell rang with his every move, Atsushi went back to the mirror and twisted his back to get a good look. It was a long, fluffy black tail.

“You put a butt plug in me?!” Atsushi asked turning sharply.

Imai grinned uncontrollably. He really couldn’t take Atsushi seriously with the bell ringing every time he moved. Forcing himself to ignore it, Imai cleared his throat and reached behind, saying, “Actually, it’s a vibrator.”

“A wha-!” Atsushi’s knees hit the floor, clutching himself as the sudden stimulation began to arouse him.

“Ah, sorry.” Imai was trying to reach the remote on the desk when his groping fingers accidentally turned the dial on. Stretching a little further, Imai finally got his hands on the remote and picked it up. “There’s this remote here,” Imai muttered, paying no heed to Atsushi’s squirming as he peered at the small, palm-sized device. “I guess this increases the intensity…” He turned it up and Atsushi moaned, curled up on the floor on his side. “... And this turns it off?” The vibration stopped, leaving Atsushi panting as he looked up at Imai, his expression docile.

Walking over, Imai crouched down next to Atsushi as he rolled onto his back and stretched out, letting Imai stroke his stomach as one would a cat. As he dragged his hand over Atsushi’s skin, Imai asked, “Need mittens?”

Atsushi shook his head.

“Paws up,” Imai ordered.

Atsushi folded his arms in and brought his hands in front of his chest, curling his fingers into his palm to imitate paws. As Atsushi waited for Imai’s next move, Imai brushed over a ticklish spot on his side, making Atsushi curl his body up and swat at Imai’s arm, teeth bared as he craned his neck in an attempt to bite Imai.

Imai lightly pinched the soft skin of Atsushi’s under arms in response, making Atsushi yelp and draw back in pain. Holding up a finger to Atsushi’s distressed face, Imai warned, “No biting.”

Atsushi hissed back at him, pouting. “My cats do it to me all the time.”

“You spoil your cats,” Imai retorted. Cupping Atsushi’s face with his hand, Imai gently scratched behind Atsushi’s ear, a small smile on his face as Atsushi tilted his head and leaned into his caress with the tinkling of his bell. “Aren’t you adorable…” Imai remarked to himself.

Atsushi smiled back at him, eyes squinting shut as he hummed contentedly. Raising a paw, Atsushi playfully pushed his knuckles against Imai’s jaw, chuckling as Imai’ hand shifted to tickle under Atsushi’s chin.

Imai pressed his index finger to Atsushi’s soft lips, poking them until Atsushi parted his lips to let Imai put his finger in. Holding Imai’s wrist between his paws, Atsushi sucked on his finger, occasionally gnawing at his fingertip.

Now that Atsushi was playing along, Imai turned the vibrator on to its first level. Atsushi stopped sucking and lurched in surprise, bell tinkling as he jerked. Imai chuckled. He knew it wasn’t enough to started affecting Atsushi yet but it was still something.

Pulling his hand away, Imai smirked and stood up. As he walked away, he could hear the bell ringing when Atsushi got up. Imai went to the bed and sat down. Pulling out a stick with a fuzzy end, a cat toy like those Atsushi regularly used with his own cats, Imai rested his elbows on his knees. Holding the vibrator remote in one hand and waving the toy in the other, he uttered, “Come here.”

Bringing his legs under him, Atsushi got on his knees and began to crawl to Imai as quietly as he could with the incessant bell at his neck. Noticing Atsushi’s slow pace, Imai stretched his arm out and waved the cat toy at him. “C’mon, Acchan. Don’t keep me waiting,” he coaxed, turning up the vibrator a notch to nudge Atsushi on.

Not expecting the increase in intensity, Atsushi gasped and paused in his tracks, the fur from his tail tickling his bare ass and thighs as he took a moment. He was now close enough for Imai to tickle him with the cat toy. Feeling an itch on his nose, Atsushi spotted the fuzz from the cat toy in front of him and he swatted at it. Not before Imai flicked it out of his reach though.

Imai grinned at Atsushi, clearly amused. Annoyed, Atsushi wrinkled his nose and as Imai brought the cat toy close again, Atsushi swatted once more, still missing it. Now riled up, their little game commenced with Imai irritating Atsushi with the toy as Atsushi chased after it. Eventually, Atsushi found himself leaping towards Imai’s lap, crashing face first into his stomach. Laughing, Imai held Atsushi’s vexed face in his hands, brushing his hair back as he tried to placate him.

As Atsushi calmed down, he eventually sighed and lay his head in Imai’s lap, putting a hand- no, paw on his leg. Running his fingers through Atsushi’s hair, Imai straightened his posture and leaned back. “You’re a very quiet kitten, aren’t you?” he commented.

Atsushi let a low hum start in his throat as he rubbed his cheek against the fabric of Imai’s sweatpants. Turning his eyes up to Imai, Atsushi blinked at him slowly as he let his lips part slightly and a soft mewling sound escaped his throat.

With a lopsided smile, Imai turned the dial again and Atsushi’s mewl grew louder, pressing his face into Imai’s thigh as he felt his groin start to warm. “I’m only on the third level, Acchan,” Imai notified as he continued scratching Atsushi’s head.

“How… many…?” Atsushi breathed, putting a paw on Imai’s upper thigh as he snaked his arm around Imai’s waist.

“Uh… let’s see…” Imai raised his brows. “Eight? That’s what it says here.”

Atsushi hummed, acknowledging Imai’s answer as he meowed and buried his face in Imai’s hip, teeth scratching against the corrugated waistband. Biting the fabric between his canines, Atsushi pulled at it, dragging it down in an attempt to undress Imai. He was, however, failing. Each time he pulled the waistband down, it stubbornly flipped back up, making Atsushi whine in frustration.

“Need hands for that, don’t you?” Imai chuckled, ruffling Atsushi’s hair.

Atsushi made a show of throwing head back, yowling dramatically before biting the inside of Imai’s thigh through his pants. Imai yelped, sitting up in surprise as Atsushi went back to nuzzling his crotch. Imai scowled and Atsushi looked back at him with a pitiful pout. Biting and pulling at the waistband again, Atsushi hummed in distress.

“Fine, fine, use your hands or something,” Imai grumbled.

Making a sound that resembled happy trilling, Atsushi leaned forward, now nuzzling Imai’s lower abdomen as his cold fingers slipped under the waistband at his hips. Atsushi’s eager icy fingers made Imai gasp and Atsushi grinned. As the pants left Imai’s waist and travelled down, Atsushi began to give Imai small licks, moving lower to the soft skin of his inner thighs.

Leaning back on an elbow, Imai stroked Atsushi’s hair and hummed in approval. Atsushi ran his hands down Imai’s legs, pulling the pants off his feet with a flourish and throwing them aside. Focusing on his licking, Atsushi teased Imai, moving close enough to his groin for him to feel his breath, but nothing more. Annoyed, Imai turned the dial again and immediately, Atsushi’s body lurched with a moan.

“Get to it, Acchan,” Imai muttered breathily.

Shooting a quick glance up at Imai, Atsushi put his hands on the underside of Imai’s legs, pushing them up to make Imai roll onto his back. Running his hands up and down the back of Imai’s thighs, Atsushi brought his licking straight to Imai’s anus, teasing him with short licks on and around his entrance.

Imai shuddered and curled his toes in, gripping hard as Atsushi did his thing with his tongue. When Atsushi pushed in, Imai involuntarily moaned, clenching his fist in Atsushi’s hair while his nails scratched at his scalp. Encouraged, Atsushi licked until he felt Imai’s ass was sufficiently wet before letting a finger replace his tongue. Bringing his tongue up, Atsushi pushed into Imai’s perineum before proceeding to his scrotum and eventually, his now engorged erection.

Atsushi’s cat ears tickled the inside of Imai’s thighs as he came up between them, blinking seductively as he brought his tongue from the base of Imai’s shaft to the tip. Thrusting his finger slow, Atsushi took his time, licking the length of Imai in short strips as he gradually pushed his foreskin down.

Now breathing heavy, Imai squinted his eyes at Atsushi, slightly annoyed that he seemed a little more clear headed than himself. Wrinkling his nose, Imai increased the intensity of his vibrator just one more notch and watched Atsushi moan with smug satisfaction.

Atsushi began to rub his chest with a hand, teasing his nipple as he started moving his hips and grinding his growing erection against the bed’s footboard while his bell rang in tandem. Adding another finger into Imai, Atsushi elicited a grunt from him as he stretched his lover and thrust.

With his growing desire for stimulation, Atsushi found it difficult to suck Imai off properly, turning it to yet another source of frustration for Imai. Bending his leg, Imai brought his foot down and dragged his toes over Atsushi’s back, making him shudder and moan from the unexpected touch. Hazy eyes meeting Imai’s, Atsushi watched his fingers twitch, beckoning him closer.

“You want to put it in, don’t you? Imai asked.

Atsushi nodded slowly as he leaned forward. Sliding his body against Imai’s as he approached, he shuddered again, tilting his head back as he sighed from the skin contact. That damned vibrator was making his body overly-sensitive.

Letting his hands leave Imai’s lower half, Atsushi wrapped his arms around Imai and sighed. He then buried his face in Imai’s neck, his moans resembling cat noises as he began to grind himself against Imai.

“You’re a filthy kitten, aren’t you?” Imai taunted, eliciting a long, drawn out yowl from Atsushi as he shook his hips, waving his tail around.

With the remote in one hand, Imai brought his other hand down to the curve of Atsushi’s bottom, caressing the soft, supple skin as he slowly edged the indecent thong off Atsushi’s hips. When he tucked the tail under and over the waistband, Imai turned vibrator up again and Atsushi arched his back, sticking his ass in the air as he moaned again. The motion was helpful in coaxing the thong off and as it slid down, freeing Atsushi’s erection from its secure hold, Atsushi kicked enthusiastically, flinging it away.

Without wasting a moment, Atsushi positioned himself and pushed into Imai who dug his fingers into Atsushi’s side groaned in surprise. “At least warn me!” Imai exclaimed, turning the dial again.

Atsushi moaned, his breathing laboured as he nuzzled Imai’s shoulder in apology. Atsushi’s mind was a fog as he started thrusting his hips. He barely heard the bell that irritated him so, only feeling and hearing Imai all around him. Imai held him tight, fingers mussing up his short mane of hair while an arm wrapped around his torso, pressing into his flesh. Atsushi felt the warmth in his nether regions spread as he thrust, giving him another shudder as it ate into his mind and made sparks flash behind eyes in an overwhelming explosion of sensations.

Panting, Atsushi felt his senses returning to him but he could still feel the vibrator stirring up his insides. Now more vexed than aroused, Atsushi snarled as he reached back, bell tinkling in the wake of his outburst as he aimed for the butt plug. Before he could get a proper grip on it though, the buzzing stopped. Atsushi paused in surprise.

“I turned it off,” Imai muttered. Running a hand through his hair, he lay sprawled out under Atsushi as he huffed, sounding somewhat disappointed. “Didn’t even get to turn it all the way up.”

“How high did you go?” Atsushi asked, relaxing.

Staring at the remote, Imai gave it a quick thought. “Uh… seven, I think,” he replied. “Or maybe it was six?”

Dropping down onto the bed with Imai, Atsushi whined and curled up with him. “This body can’t keep up anymore.”

“Not that it ever stops you, you perverted bakeneko” Imai scoffed. “Fancy you wearing such ‘underwear’ out.”

Atsushi giggled with delight. “Aren’t you glad you collared me?”


“I’m all~~ yours,” Atsushi smiled, rubbing his nose against Imai’s as he shook his head and rang the bell at his collar.

“Why would I want that?” Imai retorted. “You’d fuck the living daylights out of me.”

“How flattering,” Atsushi chuckled. “Well, you can do anything you want with me too,” he suggested

The sinister smirk suddenly reappeared on Imai’s face. “Including this?”

Atsushi felt a rough tug in his ass and a sudden flash of pain. Imai had yanked the butt plug out. “Imai, you-!”

Imai smothered him with a kiss and an abundance of caresses, placating his rage with affection. “‘Anything’, you said,” he chuckled, twirling Atsushi’s hair in his fingers. “Be careful of what you wish for,” Imai whispered.

“You’re evil,” Atsushi hissed, face buried in Imai’s shoulder.

“No more evil than a bakeneko,” Imai laughed, ending their conversation with another kiss.

Chapter Text

Drunk, hot, and bothered, Atsushi pulled at his clothes as Imai dragged into the dressing rooms backstage. He had, as usual, drunk himself into a high before their set started, and now that it was over, that hard liquor he downed as beginning to take its effect. Imai felt Atsushi start to tug at his clothes and he hastily gestured to the rest of the band to go ahead, quickly veering off into the disabled toilet.

Locking the door as he entered, Imai deposited Atsushi on the toilet seat and quickly undid the top few buttons on Atsushi’s shirt. As quickly as his own tipsy fingers could, that is. Atsushi rocked backwards, almost falling over but Imai caught him and made him lean forward to rest his head on his chest. Absentmindedly, Imai massaged the back of Atsushi’s neck, staring blankly into space as his fingers worked. But before he knew it, he was out of buttons to undo.

Imai frowned and looked down at Atsushi’s shirt that hung open on his thin frame. Carefully leaning Atsushi back on the cistern, Imai sighed to himself. That wasn’t what he had meant to do. But it would make it easier for him to cool Atsushi off though.

Looking around, Imai realised that he should’ve brought a towel from their dressing room. He clicked his tongue, annoyed. He couldn’t just leave Atsushi here alone, like this, to go and get a towel. Scanning the space, his eyes stopped at the roll of toilet paper. He could use the tissues. Rolling a wad into his hand, Imai wet the tissues in the sink and brought it to Atsushi, pressing it to his warm skin.

The sudden cold made Atsushi gasp and lean towards Imai, the sole source of heat in the air conditioned environment. Pressing his head against Imai, Atsushi released a shuddering breath. “Hisashi… Cold…”

“Is your head any clearer yet?” Imai asked, dabbing the wet tissues on Atsushi as he squirmed.

“Hisashi… I want your heat…” Atsushi breathed, wrapping his arms around Imai.


“Hisashi…” Atsushi groped Imai’s behind as a hand began to fumble at Imai’s belt.

“Hey!” Imai blurted, his voice bouncing off the walls of the toilet.

The door thudded. “You alright in there?” someone asked.

“Uh… yeah! Just a moment,” Imai answered. He swallowed nervously. How clearly could they be heard from the outside?

Warm fingers on his stomach drew Imai’s attention back to Atsushi, who has undone his pants and was now unceremoniously removing Imai’s underwear. Imai couldn’t deny that he was excited by Atsushi’s groping on stage but this wasn’t where he wanted to feed his lust. Not where they could possibly be heard.

Imai barely had the chance to say a word when Atsushi took him in his mouth, sloppily sucking on Imai’s erection as he muttered, “So hot…”

With one hand holding Imai’s erection, Atsushi brought his other hand down to his own crotch, clumsily unbuttoning his own pants as he groped himself at the same time. Unsheathing his own erection, Atsushi began playing with himself, touching and prodding himself as he continued sucking on Imai. Watching him only aroused Imai even more and when Atsushi eventually pleaded, “Use me”, Imai couldn’t deny him.

Making Atsushi stand, Imai had him turn around and place both hands on either side of the plastic toilet seat. Imai put his hands on Atsushi’s hips, caressing him as he rubbed his precum-slicked tip on Atsushi’s entrance. Feeling his asshole tingle with anticipation, Atsushi moaned without restraint, letting his voice echo in the enclosed space.

“Excuse me!” A different voice called out from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”

Imai hastily clasped a hand over Atsushi’s mouth. “Yes!” he answered. “He just needs a bit of time to gather his wits! Had too much to drink, y’know!”

“Ah… okay!” The voice replied and footsteps led away from the door.

Atsushi whined into Imai’s hand, his voice now softer, but still audible. Imai pressed his lips thin. They needed to hurry up and get this over and done with.

Imai eased himself into Atsushi and started thrusting, moving his along with Atsushi’s muffled moaning. Keeping a keen ear out for any other passers-by, Imai could barely pay attention to Atsushi. Though Atsushi himself didn’t seem to have noticed it.

Balancing himself on one arm, Atsushi reached for his own erection with his other hand, stroking himself in tandem to Imai’s steady pace of thrusting. His head was beginning to throb less than before, giving him a vague sense of heady pleasure as the effects of sexual stimulation took precedence in his body. Imai’s hand clamped hard against his mouth, on his jaw, but it barely bothered him. Instead, he found the restriction rather refreshing, even if it wasn’t sobering.

Letting his thoughts wander, Atsushi eventually let his voice out in one final moan as he ejaculated into the toilet bowl under him. He thought that Imai would do the same, since they were conveniently situated above it, but instead, Atsushi felt a heat filling his ass.

Imai cursed. He was too focused on making sure that they weren’t going to be found fucking in the bathroom. Slowly pulling himself out of Atsushi, Imai watched his cum leak out of Atsushi’s hole as he slowly turned to look back at Imai with an unimpressed glare.

“It’s. Right. Here.” Atsushi gestured violently at the toilet.

“So now you’re sober,” Imai remarked, appreciating the view of his accidental creampie.

“Stop staring,” Atsushi hissed, kicking a foot back at Imai’s shin.

Imai grimaced, holding back from exclaiming in pain. Rubbing his shin, Imai put a finger to his lips, gesturing to Atsushi to stay quiet. “Keep it down!” he urged. “It’s your fault for getting so intoxicated to begin.”

“My fault-?!”

“Shh!!” Imai shushed Atsushi as two or three sets of feet passed the door. “I’ll clean you up and then you can yell at me once we get out of here, alright?”

Turning silent, Atsushi reluctantly held his tongue and sat down on the seat, pouting throughout the entire duration and even the whole way back to Imai’s cluttered, dingy apartment. Not a word was exchanged until they had both showered and were seated on different ends of the worn out couch, drinking cheap beer and smoking cigarettes.

“Weren’t you going to yell at me?” Imai asked, quietly. “Or are you giving me the silent treatment?”

“I just don’t feel like it anymore,” Atsushi muttered, staring blankly at the wall.

Imai didn’t have anything to say to that.

Neither of them moved as they let the silence drag on until Atsushi spoke up again. “That was some shitty sex.”

“Time and place were terrible,” Imai pointed out, agreeing.

Atsushi huffed, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Make it up to me?”

“What? Round two?”

Atsushi squinted his eyes, giving the idea some consideration. After a moment, he scrunched up his face in reluctance and hummed low, shaking his head. “Don’t feel like it… ”

“What then?” Imai asked again.

“Hold me?”

Imai stretched an arm wide open. Biting his cigarette between his teeth, Atsushi scrambled over, curling up with Imai in a tangle of arms and limbs as his beer sloshed in his can.

Settling in with a contented sigh, Atsushi muttered to himself, “This is the life…”

“You’re way too easily satisfied,” Imai chuckled, wrapping an arm around Atsushi’s waist.

“As long as I’m with you…” Atsushi drawled, yawning.

“At least put out your cigarette if you’re going to fall asleep,” Imai chided, gently removing Atsushi’s cigarette from his lips. “I can’t afford another place if this one burns down.”

Atsushi chuckled, taking his cigarette back and sucking on it. “We’ll be okay,” he smiled, touching Imai’s cheek. “I can feel it.”

“I’m quite sure the only thing you’re feeling right now is drowsiness,” Imai retorted, removing Atsushi’s cigarette from his drooping hand. “Just go to sleep,” he whispered.

Caressing Atsushi’s face, Imai finished the remainder of Atsushi’s cigarette before dropping it into the flat beer in Atsushi’s can with a sizzle. Imai then finished up his own cigarette, dropping it into the can as well.

With all fire hazards out of the way, Imai finally let himself relax. Hugging Atsushi tight, he drifted off into sleep, dreaming of days of full stomachs, quality alcohol, and more enjoyable romps with Atsushi.

Chapter Text

Sakurai opened the door to Imai’s basement and stepped in, immediately taken aback by the lack of light inside.

“Imai? Hey, you told me to hurry over, what's wrong? You know, if you were trying to set the mood, usually a few candles help instead of darkness…” His voice trailed off as he heard the door shut behind him, leaving his vision shrouded by black.

Slowly the lights dimmed on, just enough to make out the shadowed outlines of the furnishings inside, and the thin, lanky figure stepping forward.

“I'm sorry Atsushi, the dimmer switch still gives me trouble.” Of course, it was Imai. "I'm glad you're here though. I do need your help but I'm afraid I don't have much time to explain.”

Getting close enough for Sakurai to finally make out in the light, he noticed that Imai was wearing one of his pointy witch hats from his concert costumes and helda large book in one hand.

“What's this? Are you trying out some kind of Harry Potter roleplay?” Sakurai laughed, but in fact, the whole scenario was feeling very unusual and uncomfortable to him. Not responding, Imai stopped a few steps away and snapped the fingers of his free hand.

Suddenly, the floor beneath them flashed in a brilliant light that stunned Sakurai into covering his eyes with his arms. As he felt the light draw back, he brought them down and gasped at the glittering circle surrounding them. As his eyes were caught by the intricate pattern inside the circle, he felt Imai grab his chin and bring him to eye level again.

Cupping Sakurai's face, Imai smiled softly before pushing Sakurai back towards the edge of the circle. As Sakurai was about to pass over it, he instead felt a very solid wall at his back. He tried to turn to see what was behind him, seeing as he was still in the center of the basement, but found himself somehow pinned like a bug on fly paper.

“Imai! What the hell?!”

"Look I'm going to cut to the chase. I'm a witch and I have an Old One who’s going to awake and terrorize this whole plane of existence if I don't give it an adequate offering to go back to sleep for at least another century or two,” Imai paused, “and you are that offering.” If he hadn't been glued to air, Sakurai could have taken this joke, but instead he was gripped by fear.

“Maimai! Please, there must be another way!” Sakurai cried, trying to plead with him but it was no use. Imai was rapidly flapping through his large tome until a finger slapped down on what he had been looking for.

“Acchan..." Imai looked at him forlornly, "I'm not sure if it'll help you to know this now but… It's not your life it wants.”

Sakurai tried to push for more answers but Imai began to speak a language he had never heard before as his eyes scanned the book. Out of nowhere a thick fog began to crawl out from the shadows, hiding Imai from Sakurai’s sight as it filled the basement until it was all he could see in the glittering of the magic circle under his feet.

Eventually, that faded as well and Sakurai found himself free to move again. He ran out ahead where Imai had been standing but found nothing but fog. In fact, he ran out well past the boundaries of basement. It appeared he was in an endless plain of fog, and the feeling that he was no longer where he had been sent shivers of fear down his spine.

He continued pushing forward, deciding that moving would be safer than standing still, until he found his foot had caught on something, causing him to trip.

Putting his hands out to catch his fall, Sakurai’s heart skipped a beat as he realized he had yet to hit the ground, despite now falling straight...up? That’s right, he realized, the sensation he now had was of being lifted up in the air by that same foot. Feeling helpless, he still braved to crane himself to look up at his feet and instantly regretted it.

Wrapped tautly around one ankle was what looked somewhat like a thick green vine. Slinking their way down on it like a pathway were more, and Sakurai finally realized he had been screaming the entire time.

One vine jumped down to wrap around his other foot and bring it up alongside the other, while others slowly descended down, their bumpy undersides making Sakurai shiver as he felt them through his pants. When one enterprising vine slipped underneath his pant leg he gasped. Cold, slimy, and gently suctioning against his skin as it slowly moved, he realized they were not vines at all.

They were tentacles.

Adrenaline pumping, Sakurai bent his upper body towards his legs, desperately trying to pull the tentacles off. He didn’t care how far up he was now, just so long as he was free.

The offending appendages were unshaken, and instead merely moved to wrap around his arms, crawling their way down his straining biceps as he continued to fight.

Once they had managed to keep a secure hold on him, the tentacles pulled and twisted him around until he was upright again, arms and legs spread wide. The blood rushing from his head made Sakurai feel faint, and as his head lolled over in weakness, he felt even more tentacles ghost down the sides of his face in a bid to support him.

Suddenly, Sakurai’s mind was filled with a hunger long unsatiated and a desire to consume...him. He shook his head wildly, as if he could fling the thoughts out and was rewarded for his contempt by a set of tentacles closing around his neck as they squeezed tightly.

At first, Sakurai struggled back even harder, using every ounce of strength in his body in what he realized would probably be his last chance to escape his fate. But as his circulation slowed and his ability to breath left him, he found himself wanting to succumb to the feel of lightheadedness, wanting to give in to the oblivion.

His sight prickling away to black, Sakurai let his eyelids shut as everything faded from his body. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, Sakurai was slammed back into reality by his own hard, air-sucking gasps.

The tentacles around his neck suddenly uncoiled and dove underneath his shirt, making a direct attack on nipples with their suction. Sakurai cried out in surprise as the rough stimulation drove pangs of arousal down between his legs. Feeling more tentacles slide across his torso he involuntarily pushed against them, trying to feel the suction over his shirt. In response, they latched onto the fabric and pulled back with enough force to rip Sakurai free of it before returning to tease at the rest of his chest and abdomen with gusto.

A moan escaped Sakurai’s lips as he bucked his hips. The lone tentacle teasing his leg at a languid pace had finally made its way to the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thighs. As he tried his best to resist the sensation, his mind was now filled with the suggestion to surrender himself to his captivity. Aroused and fatigued, it was all too easy for him to succumb, letting his body grow limp in the hold of the tentacles. The one on his thigh rewarded him for his cooperation by sliding up further and using the smooth, wet topside of itself to cradle Sakurai’s scrotum as the very tip of the tendril ran itself softly up his erection that was starting to press painfully into his zipper fly.

With a shaky voice, Sakurai found himself begging, “Ah, my pants. Off… Please take them off!” With pleasure, two pairs of tentacles slid under his waistband and pulled, finally setting Sakurai free and in full view of a large golden eye peeking from beyond the mists.

Even more tentacles began to inch across every bit of exposed skin, leaving behind deep red suction marks in their wake. The tentacle wrapped around his erection continued to coil and twist itself around him, the tip of it rubbing across the opening of his urethra as it dared to prod in.

A set made their way up his legs as another set slid down his back, all of them meeting along his buttocks. Tentatively, one began tapping against the curve of his ass, gently at first but then coming down on his skin harder and harder until it began to leave a whip mark across his pale skin with a loud slap each time.

Sakurai cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, finding himself begging for more. He began to feel tentacles lash his back, his chest, seeking out the most tender spots of his arms and thighs to abuse. As one started to veer dangerously close to his scrotum as it slapped the flat surface of skin behind it, he pleaded incoherently, his mouth hanging open while he sobbed. The tentacles took advantage, and a particularly thick one shoved in. Sakurai tried to moan but it became a gag as the tentacle slipped into the far back of his mouth.

Saliva mixed with the slimy coating of the monster mixed and tumbled out of the side of his mouth as it continued to push against the back of his throat while the rest of the limbs pushed and pulled inside his mouth but never leaving it.

Eventually a gurgled scream managed to escape as Sakurai found the attention between his legs to be too much. The tentacle that had been jerking him off began to move faster and squeeze harder as a result, only slowing down as Sakurai's ejaculation spilled over it, but never stopping.

One by one, the slapping tentacles calmed back down into a caress against Sakurai's skin as he sobbed through his orgasm. It was useless to speak but he still tried, needing to plead for more, wanting to beg to continue to be used.

As if reading his mind, he felt something slimy slip between his cheeks, teasing his entrance and and the skin surrounding it. Feeling it ghost around the pucker of his hole, Sakurai pleaded mentally for it to enter him, groaning against the one still fucking his mouth when it finally did.

The tentacle sent jolts of pleasure down his spine as it wriggled and curled inside him as it pushed in more. It slid in and out at a smooth pace before pulling out all the way, making him whimper at the loss.

Then, in one swift move it slammed back inside of him and curled it's tip into a stiff hook that kept it inside as the main part of the limb pulled up.

His jaw dropping, the tentacle inside his mouth drew out releasing a sustained scream that it had muffled down Sakurai's throat. He felt more tentacles behind him proceed to hook in and stretch him out as well.

“Oh god, please," his words coarse and raspy from his strained throat, “Fuck me! Fill me please!" He was already getting hard again in anticipation.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he felt himself go limp as tentacles began to plunge in and out of his ass. It was impossible for him to tell how many were inside of him, but he could feel the pressure of them against his trembling insides. He struggled to push against them with his legs still secured by more of the monstrous appendages and felt his head slump forward as his hips tried to move at the tentacles’ irrhythmic pace. Looking down, he saw what was happening behind him as the outline of countless tentacles pushed out from his stomach. With a weak sob he came again, feeling some of the many tentacles inside of him stimulate his prostate repeatedly.

“Fuck! Yes! Oh God keep going!" He was pleading with the monster, consumed himself by the need to be pushed to his limits and beyond.

Eventually, the tentacles holding him in place released his limbs and he found himself being held up in the air by the tentacles inside of him, riding them into an orgasmic oblivion.

He had no idea how much time had passed and had lost track of how many times he was brought to the ecstasy of orgasm. His mind was so clouded by his own lust that even the hunger of the creature grew quiet to him.

In his head, the voice of Imai slowly grew louder, reciting the unknown tongue he had been before Sakurai had been whisked away to the Old One’s terrain. He whined as he felt the presence of the hungry being within him shirk away as Imai’s grew. The tentacles grew limp and slid out of him, making him whimper at the feeling of becoming empty. The mist intensified again, eventually enveloping him in a gray nothingness as the last of the tentacles left his sweat and slime soaked body.

Once it began to disperse, Sakurai realized he was staring up at the now fully lit ceiling of Imai's basement. He cautiously moved his fingers, realizing he was laid out on his back in the middle of the room. The drench of sweat made the clothes he thought had been ripped off cling to his skin as he slowly turned over in an attempt to get up.

Now on his stomach, he realized the wetness in his pants and groaned.

“Holy shit Acchan." He looked up to see Imai walking carefully over to him with a towel in his hands. “I knew you were going to hold your own but…”

He helped Sakurai sit upright and unpeel his shirt so he could wipe the sweat off him as he explained what had happened.

“... So you see, it feeds off sexual energy and if we feed it enough at once, it becomes weak from… well overconsumption I guess,” Imai laughed as he walked an exhausted towel covered Sakurai up the stairs into the main area of his home. “Anyway, that generally gives us enough time to seal it back into it's realm for about a century or so.”

Apparently Imai’s family had been in charge of protecting the world from the beast for countless generations since it first attempted to breach over.

Making their way into the bathroom, Imai sat Sakurai down on a bath stool and used the handheld shower head to wash off the rest of the mess he made of himself. Sakurai sighed in comfort as the warm water poured down onto his tired muscles. He physically felt nothing that had occurred since Imai noted that it had not been his physical body sent to the Old One, but he was still exhausted from the ordeal.

Once he was scrubbed clean, he was gently deposited into a hot and fragrant bath.

“Atsushi." Imai returned to set fresh towels and a set of pajamas down for Sakurai once he was ready to leave the bath. “I really am sorry I didn't tell you about all of this. Honestly, I thought there was more time before it awoke. Shit, I mean it normally skips about two generations. But really, I'm impressed by how you stuck it out! It might sleep a whole millennium with what you gave it,  you horny ass monster.” In return, Sakurai splashed water in his face and glared angrily at Imai.

"Good, because it's going to be a millennium before I ever want to fuck a tentacle monster again… or you for that matter.” Once he saw Imai's lip quiver before dropping his jaw, he slid down to submerge fully into the bath water, his laughter bubbling up the water.

Chapter Text

Sakurai let out a gasp as Imai rushed him into one of the dressing rooms backstage, slamming the door and locking it behind them before pushing the singer against the vanity table as he crushed their lips together.


The concert wasn’t even over yet but Imai was ready to break. Sakurai’s on stage fanservice had risen to a new level of teasing him that had him consumed by arousal and lust before they had even left the stage for their pre-encore break.


“H-Hisashi!” Sakurai’s hands were buried in Imai’s hair as he started to protest, “Ah! We still have both encores!” Imai ignored him and moved to nip at Sakurai’s neck, grinning to himself as Sakurai responded positively.


“Maybe you should have considered that before giving me a hard on in front of a live audience .” He punctuated his sexual frustration by forcing his thigh in between Sakurai’s legs, pressing it up against his own growing erection with every word. The sensation causing Sakurai to reply in panicked yelps.

Still grinding himself against Sakurai breathlessly, Imai tried to unbutton his black sleeveless button down but found himself too impatient. Instead, he decided to go straight to Sakurai’s pants, pushing down the elastic waistband of the wide sheer pants and leggings underneath midway down his thighs before turning him around.

Sakurai steadied himself with both hands on the vanity, bending over slightly. From the reflection of the vanity mirror he watched as Imai’s hands slid up under his shirt as he pressed into his back with hardness of his shaft now free and pushing against Sakurai’s ass.


“God it turns me on when you wear that military looking stuff on stage,” Imai breathed into Sakurai’s ear with a hand now trailing up the long satin gloves Sakurai had been wearing. Sakurai whimpered and arched his back in response to Imai pinching and rolling his nipple between his fingers. “Groping me like you did was devious Acchan,” the hand on the glove suddenly flew down below view of the mirror to give Sakurai a taste of his earlier medicine, “Do you know how hard it was for me to not just take you right there? Sometimes, I think that’s what you want.”


Imai continued his relentless counter-tease on Sakurai, who squirmed and moaned as he was torn between giving in and trying to settle his lover down before anyone noticed they had been gone too long. A knock on the door sent a cold shiver of fear down Sakurai’s spine.


“You two, hurry it up in there!” It was Toll, who had the misfortune of this being his turn to warn the two before someone else caught them.


“Five more minutes, I’m fixing my makeup!” Imai shouted back at the door. He pulled his hand out from under Sakurai’s shirt and held it to the man’s mouth. “Lick,” He commanded, and while Sakurai did exactly that Imai brought his other hand up to his own and spit in it. Bringing the hand slicked in Sakurai’s saliva back down to stroke him again he then slipped his other hand between Sakurai’s thighs, coating them until his hand could slide back out with ease.

Resting his head on Sakurai’s shoulder Imai made eye contact with him through the mirror. He held his gaze until he pushed his painfully hard need into the tight warm wetness of Sakurai’s thighs, his eyes squeezing shut as he groaned in relief at the soft skin enveloping him.

As he thrusted against Sakurai, he stroked his dick as well, watching the reflection of man in front of him through heavy lidded eyes. Sakurai found himself pushing back as he felt Imai rubbing against him as he fucked his thighs, trying to get him to rub against his perineum at a pace that matched the strokes of his hand.


Imai gripped into Sakurai’s hip as he came in between his legs, still rolling his hips into his ass as he continued to jerk him off until he reached his climax as well. Sakurai slid his arms down over the vanity top until he was hunched over it with his forehead on the counter as he tried to catch his breath. Something cold and damp slid up between his legs and he gasped at the surprise until he realized it was Imai using one of his makeup wipes to clean up his mess.


Meanwhile, out in the backstage hallway Toll was storming back to the dressing room they were in. Before he could start knocking again the door swung open. Passing by him was a poker faced Imai and Sakurai with his prop scarf already over his head and obscuring his face.


Toll rolled his eyes, “I swear to god its like the two of you get hornier every year. What’s next, fucking on stage?”


Without turning around, Imai threw up a middle finger back at Toll, while Sakurai was thankful for the large scarf veiling his burning cheeks.

Chapter Text

Imai opened his eyes and sighed in bliss, enjoying the rare silence in his home. His wife had joined Junior on a school trip and he had the house all to himself for the next week. No random barge-ins, no sudden disturbances, no complaints of noise pollution. Just peace and the freedom to indulge in whatever he pleased. As much as he loved his family, there were times when he missed the solitude that single life offered. He just hoped that this period of time wouldn’t pass too quickly. It would be a shame if it went by without him getting to enjoy it properly.


Stretching his arms and arching his back, Imai sighed again. Throwing his arm out to the side as he lazed in bed, Imai felt his forearm hitting something. Odd. Frowning, he turned.


“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Atsushi was tucked under the covers, lying on his side as he beamed at Imai.


Almost immediately, Imai’s mood darkened. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?”


“I’m always in your bed,” Atsushi smiled.


“My marriage bed,” Imai specified.


Atsushi shifted closer. “Y’know, the fans always say that we’re married-”


“Acchan,” Imai stopped Atsushi’s chatter. Rubbing his face in his hands, he sighed. So much for alone time. “Acchan, why are you here?”


“I heard your wife is away…” Atsushi trailed. He pressed closer to Imai.


“Who told you?!” Imai asked, affronted.


“A little bird…” Atsushi whispered in his ear as he rubbed his groin against the side of Imai’s thigh.


“And why are you hard?!”


“I’m always hard for you, Hisashi,” Atsushi purred, his hands smoothing over Imai’s silk pajamas.


“You come in here, into my home, first thing in the morning, and try to fuck me in . My. Marriage. Bed ?!” Imai raged, his voice escalating as he squirmed and smacked Atsushi’s hands.


“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t mind,” Atsushi whined, grinding his pelvis against Imai’s behind. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what we do…”


“And your own wife!?” Imai questioned.


“As if she doesn’t have a clue,” Atsushi laughed, flicking his tongue in Imai’s ear.


Imai shook his head violently. “You immoral lecher!”


The accusation simply made Atsushi giggle. “All because you indulge me,” he muttered, nibbling on Imai’s earlobe.


Pushing up over Imai to face him, Atsushi pressed his erection against Imai’s morning wood, making Imai groan and lose some of his resistance. Putting his hands on Atsushi, it was only in this moment when Imai realised that Atsushi wasn’t wearing much else, if anything.


“Where are your clothes!?” Imai exclaimed again, lifting the sheets to look underneath. Atsushi was, at least, wearing briefs but, “Where are your clothes!?”


“Hisashi…” Atsushi breathed in his ear. “Don’t act so chaste,” he coaxed, tangling his legs with Imai’s as he brushed his hands across Imai’s chest. “How many times have you seen me in the nude?”


“That’s not my point!”


Atsushi hummed and pressed his face into Imai’s collar, nuzzling the smooth fabric. “As much as I love your silk, won’t you let me undress you?” he asked as his thumbs circled Imai’s stiff nipples, making his breath hitch.


“Don’t rip them,” Imai muttered through gritted teeth.


“Don’t worry,” Atsushi chuckled. “I know how to handle delicate materials,” he winked and rubbed a nipple between his fingers, making Imai suck in a sharp breath and arch his back slightly.


Enjoying himself, Atsushi grinned and lay on Imai, resting on his elbows as he flicked the buttons of Imai’s pajamas open with one hand while the other continued tracing circles on Imai’s chest. With all buttons undone, Atsushi slid an arm under Imai’s slender frame, lifting him as he removed his top from his torso. Laying Imai back down, Atsushi leaned forward, gracing his lips with light tender kisses.


Tracing the ridges of Imai’s spine and ribcage with his fingers, Atsushi let his hands explore, willing himself to take his time and re-familiarise himself with every inch of Imai’s body again. It was not often that they had an infinite amount of uninterrupted time together.


Hugging Imai, Atsushi broke the kiss and shifted lower, letting his lips and tongue feel Imai’s jawline, the swell of his Adam’s apple on his throat, and the dip between his collarbones. As Atsushi slowly kissed his collarbone, he could sense Imai’s body loosening under him with a sigh.


Arms encircling him, Atsushi felt Imai’s embrace as he nuzzled in his hair. “What’s with you today?” Imai asked, his voice sounding particularly close.


Kissing Imai’s shoulder, Atsushi hummed. “Hm?”


“You’re not usually this… deliberate,” Imai muttered. “Did something happen?”


Surprised by his question, Atsushi turned, trying to look Imai in the face. “No, nothing happened.”


“You’re sure?”


Atsushi stared at Imai, perplexed by his unreadable expression. “Yes…?”


Imai held Atsushi’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes as he asked, “A hundred percent?”


“Yes,” Atsushi repeated. “Hisashi, what’s wrong?”


Imai remained silent, searching his eyes for a moment before letting Atsushi go with a sigh. “No, it’s nothing… I thought- … No, forget I said anything,” Imai muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he looked away.


“Hisashi?” Atsushi wrapped Imai in his arms again, holding him close. “I swear, nothing happened,” he muttered, giving Imai a peck on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere either,” added Atsushi as he kissed Imai’s forehead. “Just let me love you.”


Imai hugged Atsushi back, pressing his lips to his neck. As he let out a long sigh, Atsushi could tell that Imai’s frame of mind was still somewhat sombre. “Sorry,” Imai muttered. “I probably spoiled your mood.”


“Not the least,” Atsushi chuckled, trailing kisses along Imai’s cheekbones. Rubbing his hands on Imai’s chest again, he added, “You can’t put me out of it so easily.”


“Huh,” Imai breathed, a slight smile returning to his face. “Really now?” he challenged, caressing the side of Atsushi’s face as he played with his hair.


Atsushi simply winked and sank down, bringing his lips to Imai’s chest as he dragged his tongue over Imai’s nipple. He heard Imai suck in a deep breath, fingers curling into his hair. Smirking, Atsushi puckered his lips and kissed his nipple, sucking lightly before shifting to the other side and repeating the action. Imai’s deep breathing and quiet groans were music to Atsushi’s ears as he started using his fingers, gently rubbing the peak of Imai’s nipples before moving on. He didn’t want to overstimulate them to the point of pain, after all.


Shifting lower, Atsushi grazed his teeth over Imai’s ribs, kissing his soft stomach as he nuzzled the hair below the navel. As he started nipping at Imai’s waist, Atsushi eyed Imai’s erection under the silk bottoms of his pajamas and an idea popped into his head.






Atsushi flopped onto his back. “Climb on me,” he said. “I want your ass.”


“Huh? You mean, like, sit on your face?”


“Or… you could suck me off at the same time?”


Imai narrowed his eyes, his brain trying to comprehend what Atsushi was saying. “Like… 69?”


Atsushi nodded his head vigorously.


Imai scoffed and started easing out of his pants. “Why don’t you just say so then? It's not like we’ve never done that before.”


“Our positions are usually the other way around though,” Atsushi pointed out as Imai straddled him. He could feel Imai’s hands on his hips, easing his briefs down and off.


“Usually, but not always ,” Imai emphasised. “Can you reach?”


“Come a little closer,” Atsushi said in a sing-song voice as he tapped a rhythm Imai’s butt.


Imai clicked his tongue. Sitting up, he turned around and frowned at Atsushi. “Oy.”


Atsushi simply grinned and put his hands around Imai’s upper thighs, pulling him backwards. Imai shifted until the pressure stopped. Without warning Atsushi’s tongue lapped at his hole, making his groin twitch in arousal.


Stroking the underside of Atsushi’s erection, Imai brought it towards him and sucked on his tip, all while trying to keep his mind clear enough against Atsushi’s licking. Pressing his lips on Atsushi’s glans, Imai formed a ring with his thumb and middle finger and started stroking Atsushi’s length, curling his wrist as moved up and down.


Atsushi moaned and applied pressure with his tongue, spreading Imai as he pushed in. A soft groan of pleasure emitted from Imai as his brows furrowed. Upping the ante, Imai took Atsushi into his mouth and started caressing his balls with fleeting fingers while massaging his inner thighs. Atsushi jerked his hips with another muffled moan, pushing his erection into the back of Imai’s throat without warning. Thankfully, Imai didn’t choke for he had expected that. Atsushi was predictable in his own ways.


Imai felt the teasing stop and Atsushi moaned, “Hisashi… let me fuck you…”


Removing his mouth from Atsushi’s erection with a wet noise, Imai pointed to his bedside table. “Second drawer.”


Atsushi reached over with a grunt. Hooking his fingers around the pull, Atsushi noisily yanked it open and stuck his hand into the drawer box. “Aren’t you prepared,” he remarked. Grabbing a bottle and box, Atsushi tossed it to Imai without looking.






“Body lotion and pads aren’t going to work,” Imai deadpanned as he turned and gave Atsushi a tired look. He glanced at the drawers. “You opened the third drawer, you idiot.”


Atsushi groaned. “Can’t we just go without?” he whined.


“No,” Imai said firmly, separating himself from Atsushi. Lying on his belly next to Atsushi, he opened the second drawer and rummaged around as he said, “My house, my rules.”


Atsushi chuckled and nuzzled Imai’s shoulder as he rubbed his back. It didn’t take long for Imai to find what he was looking for. Easing out of Atsushi’s reach, Imai sat up and ripped the wrapper open. As he peered at it, trying to determine the right side up, Atsushi sat up as well and playfully bumped his head against Imai.


“Wanna do it yourself?” Imai asked.


“Nope,” Atsushi replied all too cheerfully.


Imai clicked his tongue and glared at him as he rolled the condom down Atsushi’s erection. Atsushi hummed and sighed before chuckling at Imai’s look of disdain. Shaking his legs in anticipation, Atsushi tapped his abdomen and said, “Have a seat.”


Imai sighed. “Lube yourself first.”


“Do it for me,” Atsushi grinned.


“What are you, a child?” Imai chided.


Despite his snark, Imai dispensed a generous amount of lube into his palm and slathered it all over Atsushi, taking pleasure with how little it took to get Atsushi aroused. With flushed cheeks and heavy breathing, Atsushi put his hands on Imai, looking to pull him close when Imai resisted. Getting up on his knees, Imai positioned himself over Atsushi, stroking him as he slowly eased Atsushi into himself.


Atsushi moaned and clasped a hand on Imai’s hip, fingers digging in like claws, as Imai started moving, making his thighs work as he rode Atsushi at a steady pace. Imai put an arm around Atsushi and brought him close into a kiss as his other hand started rubbing Atsushi’s chest. The moans that filled his mouth as Imai rocked his hips only escalated when his fingers began teasing Atsushi’s nipple. Returning the favour, Imai carelessly brushed his fingers across Atsushi’s skin, teasing him with fleeting sensations until eventually, Atsushi had enough.


Strong arms wrapped around Imai as Atsushi held him close and flipped their positions, laying him down under him. Imai landed on the bed with a grunt and without even pausing, Atsushi started pounding into him, stirring up his insides as they moved. Out of nowhere, Atsushi somehow managed to hit the spot, drawing a moan out of Imai that surprised them both. Heady with pleasure and euphoria, Atsushi smiled and kept thrusting in the same angle, making Imai scream louder than himself for once. Lost in each other’s heat, they barely noticed their moans echoing through the empty house as they held one another tight, as if in fear of melting away in their heat.


Imai found himself reaching his limit first, his erection all but forgotten as he came, making a mess on his stomach. As he slowly came down from the high, Atsushi suddenly dove in, kissing Imai desperately as his embrace tightened and he thrust once more into Imai. Slowly, Imai reached up and hugged Atsushi, patting his head and rubbing his back as Atsushi pulled out.


Nuzzling the crook of Imai’s neck, Atsushi let out a sigh and relaxed. “You’re shaking,” Atsushi observed.


“You’re a bit too much,” Imai sighed.


“But you can’t say you didn’t like it,” Atsushi retorted.


“You’re still too much,” Imai insisted. Stretching his neck, he added, “And here I thought I could have a quiet day to myself.”


“Do you want me to leave?”


Imai, for some reason, felt stung by his question. “I never said that,” he muttered. After a pause, he sighed again before getting up. “Let me wash up first. I’ll go fix up lunch for you.”


As Imai shuffled to the bathroom, Atsushi straightened out all four limbs and hissed a triumphant “Yes!” before chasing after Imai to join him.




“Thank you for the food!” Atsushi chimed as he dug into the pasta.


Putting his plate down, Imai sat himself opposite Atsushi and began to take his time with eating. “Come to think of it, how did you get into my house?” Imai asked, stuffing a mouthful of pasta into his mouth.


“Key under the tomato plant pot on the right.”


Imai stared as he chewed. Swallowing, he asked, “Who told you about that key?”


Atsushi wriggled his brows at Imai, smirking but not answering.


Imai narrowed his eyes at him. “And who did you hear about my wife being away from?” he asked.


“Your wife,” Atsushi answered with a wink.


Imai stared at him. “Meaning…?”


“She told me to come check on you while they were gone,” Atsushi elaborated. “Make sure you’re eating and sleeping right, and all that jazz.”


Imai scoffed. “I can deal with all of that.”


“And to make sure you’re not getting too lonely,” Atsushi chuckled.


“I’m not lonely,” Imai rebutted.


“That’s because I’m here,” Atsushi said, giving him a pointed look.


“I can handle being on my own,” Imai insisted.


“Whatever you say.” Atsushi waved his fork dismissively. “What were you planning to do though?”


“Watch a couple of movies or something, nothing in particular, really,” muttered Imai. Looking down, he pushed his food around the plate as he thought. “Now that you jumped me in the morning though, I’d have to change the sheets as well,” he grumbled.


“Can I stay?” Atsushi suddenly asked.


“Huh?” Imai looked up at Atsushi’s inquiring gaze. “I guess… If you want to watch with me-”


“Over? Tonight?”




“If I stay, you wouldn’t have to do the sheets, right?”


“I’d still have to wash them tomorrow, Acchan.”


“But that’s tomorrow.”


“And if you drop by every other day, I’d have to wash them every other day too.”


“So I should just stay the week,” Atsushi concluded.


Imai gave him a long, hard look. “Only if your wife is alright with it.”


“Oh, she is,” Atsushi grinned.


“You already asked her,” Imai surmised, putting his face in his hands. Why does it feel like Atsushi was toying with him?


Atsushi chuckled. “Actually, your wife asked mine.”


“Now, I find that hard to believe.”


“Ask her yourself,” Atsushi said, a confident smile on his face.


And Imai did. Moments after texting his wife, she replied. [ I told you last week. ] [ You weren’t listening again, were you? ] [ I should send my mother next time (ʃƪ¬‿¬) ]


Imai felt his blood run cold. [ It’s fine. Acchan’s good. Thanks. ] He shoved his phone away, intending to turn his attention back to Atsushi when it rang again.


[ Or maybe I should send my sister ]


Imai typed furiously. [ I said it’s fine. T h a n k s ]


[ Have fun  ಠ‿↼ ]


Putting his elbows on the table, Atsushi propped his chin up in his hands and asked, “So? What did she say?”


“Uh… ‘Have fun’.” Imai had no idea how he was supposed to describe that emoticon. “I guess you’re staying.”


“Good,” Atsushi beamed. Standing up, he took his and Imai’s empty plate to the sink and started washing them.


Coming up behind him, Imai put an arm around Atsushi and sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re here too.”


“I’m good company, aren’t I?”


“And I can get you to work on a few songs as well.”


Atsushi froze. He hadn’t thought of that. “I… want to go home…” he grimaced.


“Too late,” Imai said, smirking and giving Atsushi a peck on his cheek.


Imai laughed as Atsushi slumped his shoulders in resignation. Looks like it’s going to be a long week after all.

Chapter Text

To celebrate a successful end to another round of touring, the band decided to rent out an entire small ryokan for their staff to relax as a reward for everyone's hard efforts. The location was chosen mainly for its secluded location within a forest as well as…


“Ahh!” Imai stepped into the private outdoor bath of his room, feeling the water piped in from the hot springs around the area swirl around his legs. He had just enjoyed a delightful dinner with everyone and was now looking forward to winding down on his own before rejoining what would most likely be a long night of drinking and revelries.

Once he was submerged up to his chest while seated on the bottom of the tub sunk into the floor, Imai then stretched out to feel the water closer to his collarbone. His head resting on the ledge of the tub he closed his eyes, taking in the sensation of hot water relaxing his body slowly.


“You really are turning into an old man Maimai." The voice, laughing in its playful teasing, caused Imai to crack open an eye in its direction, “We just had dinner, and now you're ready to escape to your room and bathe. Not even an ossan, you've skipped straight to jiji!”

Sakurai stood at the edge of the bath, one hand on yukata clothed hips and another holding a bottle of sake, a sly smile spread across his face. His black hair was slicked back as if he had also broke away from the group to wash up first as well.

Imai moved over to give Sakurai space to sit beside him as he watched the man set the bottle down beside him before disrobing, but Sakurai opted to face Imai as he sat opposite him in the tub.


“Maybe," Imai grumbled, “I wanted a little time to myself. Is that so wrong?”

Sakurai frowned, “Fine. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal time Imai. I'm sorry." As he started to get out of the bath, he felt Imai gently pin down his leg with his own foot.

“Acchan… You're already in here,” He started to brush his foot lightly against Sakurai's leg once the man sat back down, “And you can't just leave me alone with this bottle of sake! I'll drown to death drunk before I even finish it halfway!”


“Please. As if I'd have left to that to go to waste on you.” Sakurai laughed as he reached over to take the now open bottle from Imai's hands to drink deeply from.


The two of them sat together in the bath for some time, talking and laughing as they passed the bottle back and forth. Mostly, it was Sakurai who was drinking as Imai was very cautious of how much more he could feel the alcohol while in a hot bath. As they relaxed together they found their legs tangling together, toes and foot soles gently running across limbs idly. Feeling daring, Sakurai slid his foot up the inside of Imai's thigh, his expression neutral as he waited for a reaction.

Also playing the poker face game, Imai simply reached down and grabbed Sakurai by the ankle and tugged him forward gently. When Sakurai was close enough he moved to pull him into his lap, arms circling around as they were brought nose to nose of one another.


“Mmhmm, I see your game now Acchan." Imai turned Sakurai around to face the same direction as him, arms holding tight as he dipped to kiss the crook of his neck. “Get me drunk,” his hands ran up and down Sakurai's arms, “Lower my guard,” his warm breath against Sakurai's ear, “Have your way with me while everyone is too busy to come bother.” He grinned, teeth gently pushing into Sakurai's shoulder as the man playfully pretended to try to break free.


“One problem..."


“What’s that?"


Imai held him closer against his chest and nuzzled Sakurai a bit, “This water has me far too relaxed and lazy to fool around.”

Sakurai huffed in indignation as he tried to turn around, but Imai’s arms slid up under his own and had him in a gentle yet secure lock as he laughed at Sakurai. He kept his hold until Sakurai surrendered to him, moving his arms down around his hips once he settled.


“Alright, alright. I'll play along," His fingers skirted dangerously close as he played with the slight v-dip in Sakurai's torso, “but I'm not doing any of the work." Just as Sakurai was about to turn around again to question him, he felt Imai's hand just barely close over his still half-flaccid member as he whispered into his ear, “Touch yourself with me. “

Sakurai brought his hand to close around Imai’s. He felt weird at the idea of using it like a lifeless toy at first, but at the sensation of his calloused guitarist fingers brushing over his skin mixed with the small currents of water they were causing, Sakurai relaxed into Imai and relished in the intimacy of the moment. As Sakurai worked their hands against his erection at a steady pace, Imai used his free hand to trace along his chin and turn him until their lips met.

Slowly, Sakurai opened his mouth further and Imai licked his way in, tasting the traces of sake still in the other’s mouth.

Moaning softly as they started, Sakurai found it hard to resist becoming more vocal as Imai eventually took control, twisting his grip and lightly grazing his nails in just the way he knew Sakurai craved. Holding him from slipping under the water with his free arm Imai nipped at his earlobe as Sakurai threw his head back against his shoulder.

Imai listened intently as Sakurai's breathing turned raspy and shallow, punctuated by short cries as his hips bucked.


“Oh God, Imai! I'm… I'm… Ah!” Sakurai pushed forward with his hips and let out a whimper as Imai held firm at the base of his dick, stopping his orgasm in its tracks. Gripping tightly to Imai's thighs as he whined for his release, he was instead greeted with a snarl in his ear.


“Don't you dare get this water dirty."


"Le-let’s… Please. Let me out then.”


"Hmm,” Imai brought his other hand down to rub the very tip of Sakurai's erection as he mused to himself, “Honestly, I'm not ready to leave yet. Not when I have you ri~ght where I want you.”

Hooking his free hand in the crook of Sakurai's knee, he picked it up and rested it over his own bent leg to hold him open and in place before doing the same on the other side. No longer needing to anchor Sakurai in place at the waist Imai was now free to hold him at his mercy as his hand ran wild against more places that begged to be touched. Sakurai's fingers gripped into the forearm of the hand Imai was using to keep his orgasm at bay, his chest rising as he panted as Imai devilishly circled a finger at his entrance.


Sakurai wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but he instead pushed his hand against his mouth to muffle desperate pleas as Imai continued to tease him well past his breaking point.

The heat of his body. The heat of the hot springs water. The agony of his arousal. Sakurai felt as if he would faint at any second, but before he did he felt Imai pick them both out of the water just enough to bend them over the floor.

As Sakurai pressed his arms and forehead against the cool stone tile, almost as in a praying bow, Imai slid back down into the bath. His hand still tight around Sakurai's base.


Running his hand idly down Sakurai's back Imai asked, “If I let go, you won't come right away, right Acchan?”

Sakurai eked out a 'no’ but honestly wasn't sure. Imai could sense the hesitation so he left his hand right where it was as he spread Sakurai open.


Feeling his tongue push into him Sakurai struggled to not fall over from his weak feeling knees. Imai lavished the taste of his lover, inside and out, for what felt like an eternity to Sakurai.

“Come for me Acchan," Imai softly commanded as he slid his hand up Sakurai's aching, leaking, dick, catching the hot white fluid in his fingers as Sakurai was finally allowed to climax.


Catching his breath, Sakurai slumped over before rolling onto his back, still up to his knees in the bath as he watched Imai suck one last finger clean before stepping out of the bath himself.

Grabbing towels from the free standing shelf in the bathing area, Imai wrapped one around his waist before handing another to Sakurai, who had just brought himself to sit up. Face still flushed, Sakurai pushed the towel against it. The gentle friction of the cotton as he rubbed it softly into his face helped ground him. Once he was sure he could stand on his own, he stood up with Imai's help, and dried himself off with the towel before Imai draped the yukata around his shoulders.


Back in the living quarters of Imai's room, the two collapsed on the low platform bed, legs and arms officially turning into jelly after being cooked for so long. After a few minutes, Imai turned to check on Sakurai and laughed quietly at the soundly sleeping man on top of the covers.


“Who's an old jiji now, eh Acchan?” He said before rolling to spoon up against him before falling asleep as well.

Chapter Text

Maki stared at the sight before him. He was at a loss regarding what to do. As Imai strolled past, Maki caught him by his arm. “Uh, Hisashi?”


“Huh? What?”


“How are we supposed to deal with him?” Maki asked, pointing at a dead-drunk Raymond.


“We’ll just carry him out and dump him in the bus,” Imai said. “What’s the fuss-”


Maki grabbed Imai’s head between his hands and tilted it down, making sure Imai was seeing what he saw.


“Oh.” Imai swallowed.




“Why the fuck is he wearing latex and only latex ?”


“Shouldn’t the bigger question be ‘why the fuck is he erect’?” Maki corrected. “No pun intended.”


Imai cursed. “If Acchan were here I’d just leave this to him…”


“Why would you do that to him?” Maki asked, perplexed by Imai’s statement. “What is he, your band slut?”


“Uh… …”


“Nevermind, I don’t want to know,” Maki said quickly. Pressing a thumb to the crease in his brow, he asked again, “So what do we do?”


“Wait, maybe Acchan has ideas,” Imai muttered. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the number he had memorised by heart and waited.


“Hello? Acchan?”


“Who are you?”


“It’s Hisashi. Can’t you recognise my voice?!”


“The fuck you want?”


Imai quickly explained the situation.


“Just jerk him off and change his pants or something, I don’t know! I’m going back to sleep…”


The call ended.


“Sleep?” Imai repeated, frowning. “It’s barely midnight and he’s talking about sleep?” He stared at his phone as suspicion slowly crept into his eyes. “Something’s not right…”


“Hey, hey, can you figure that out later?” Maki suggested, pulling Imai back to reality. “We need to deal with this now. The venue’s management has been chasing us to get out since half an hour ago.”


Imai groaned and rubbed his face with a hand. “Fine, fine, fine,” he muttered. “Ugh… All Acchan said was to get him off and change the damn pants but I don’t really want to touch him… Why can’t we just throw a jacket on him and bring him out?”


“What do you think two men carrying an unconscious man with an erection looks like?” Maki asked.


Imai grimaced. It wasn’t a pleasant sight alright. He groaned again, increasingly frustrated. “I’m not drunk enough for this,” he muttered to himself. “Can you see if there are any other pants in this room?” Imai asked. “I’ll try and peel the damn latex off him.”


Maki nodded, feeling somewhat relieved that Imai volunteered himself for that task. As he started opening the cabinets and rummaging around in the few bags left in the room, Maki heard a string of curses from Imai.


“Oh god, get me a towel or tissues or something, just anything to wipe with, for fuck’s sake, Raymond.”


A whine, or rather, a moan came from Raymond the moment Imai mentioned his name.


“Oh, shut it you,” Imai muttered. Turning to Maki, he pleaded, “Maki, please tell me you have something.”


“Here, here, here.” Maki pulled a towel out of a duffel bag and brought it to Imai. Glancing at Raymond, he now knew what the new source of Imai’s distress was.


Raymond’s shirt has hitched higher, held away from the glistening mess of what must be lube that showed up right under the latex that Imai had managed to roll off so far. He hasn’t actually made much progress though.


“You… D’you think he put that on while he was drunk?” Maki muttered, somewhat stunned and very much thankful that Imai was here to deal with this.


“I. Don’t. Know,” Imai huffed as he wiped furiously.


Raymond started getting aroused by Imai’s cleaning. Writhing his body languidly, a low hum of pleasure rumbled from Raymond’s chest as a silly smile appeared on his face. Arching his body into Imai’s rough handling, he slurred in English, “Mm, you like that, don’t you, baby?”


“No. I. Don’t.” Imai seethed in angry Japanese.


Putting a foot on the sofa, Imai reached forward to adjust Raymond’s posture. Grabbing Raymond by his armpits, Imai grunted and lifted, pushing Raymond up against the backrest. Laughing, Raymond threw an arm around Imai, the weight and force from Raymond’s arm swing making Imai faceplant in Raymond’s shoulder.


As Imai scrambled to remove himself, Raymond chuckled and turned towards Imai. “So eager, baby?”


Finally squirming free, Imai smacked him with the lube-laced towel. “If you can’t recognise my voice at least open your eyes and get a good hard look at who you’re talking to!”


“Gee, Imai,” Maki muttered, watching the exchange. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”


“Remove his boots and pull the damn latex off his fucking body,” Imai ordered, frustration turning to rage. “If he’s this lubed up, it should be a breeze,” he added. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down, even as he continued glaring at the semi-conscious horndog.


Standing over Raymond’s shins, Maki faced away from Raymond and bent over to untie his boots when he felt a hand on his rear. “Hisashiiiiiiiiiii!” Maki immediately called out in alarm. There was a smack and the hand disappeared.


“Keep your damn hands to yourself,” Imai scolded.


Raymond giggled to himself. “Playing hard to get, eh, baby?”


“Baby this, baby that,” Imai muttered to himself as he lifted Raymond by his hips and wiped the lube off worn PVC of the couch. “Baby your damn fucking self.”


“Boots are off,” announced Maki.


Setting the black boots aside, grabbed hold of the latex around Raymond’s ankles and pulled. True enough, it started sliding off Raymond’s body easily enough, but there was another problem. The rubbing of the tight, form-fitting latex against Raymond’s erection was making him moan in ecstasy.


“Ooh! Yes, baby!”


“Shut up!” Imai snapped, focusing his attention on cleaning up whatever lube that started to appear as the pants slid lower. “God! How much lube did you use, Raymond?!” Raymond bucked his hips and moaned as Imai’s arm went around his waist to lift him up again. “You’re not making this easier!” Imai groaned.


Raymond suddenly grabbed Imai again, this time pinning his torso down against his own with his arms. As his hands began to grope Imai, Raymond moaned, “Baby, kiss me.”


“Fuck no! God knows where that mouth has been!”


Raymond barely noticed Imai’s protesting as his hands continued moving, sliding lower towards Imai’s groin.


“Dammit, I don’t want to get lube on my clothes!” Imai griped as he tried to twist his way out. When Raymond’s hand grabbed his crotch, Imai jerked his hips away and finally managed to tumble out of Raymond’s hold. “God damn it, even Acchan’s not half as much of a handful as you are!”


“Probably because you don’t resist him,” Maki muttered under his breath as he smirked.


Imai, however, heard him and he turned to glare at Maki. “I swear I’ll leave you to deal with him alone-”


“No! Sorry! I didn’t say anything!”


Huffing at Maki’s answer, Imai went back to cleaning whatever skin Maki revealed as he pulled on the bottom hem of the latex pants, all while Raymond continued grinding the air and moaning. As the top band of the pants approached the tip of Raymond’s erection, Imai gestured at Maki to pause. “Is there another towel we can use?” he asked curtly. “I was hoping that he would ejaculate before the pants leave his crotch but it doesn’t seem like the friction is enough.”


“Are you going to…?” Maki’s question trailed.


“If I don’t, are you going to do it?” Imai returned the question.


“Your brave sacrifice is much appreciated,” Maki laughed as he grimaced at the thought of it.


Letting go of the latex, Maki took quick strides back to the bag where he found the first towel and pulled another one out. He tossed it to Imai who sighed, shoulders slumping in resignation. Turning back to Raymond, Imai slid the waistband down, letting it stop at Raymond’s upper thighs. He sighed again. Raymond’s crotch was covered in more lube than he had ever seen dispensed on one person. No wonder he was reacting so much to every move. Gathering himself together, Imai decided to continue using the old towel to wipe off as much lube as he could first, so he slung the smaller, clean towel over his shoulder and got to work.


Starting with his thighs, Imai brought the towel in towards Raymond’s crotch, subconsciously trying to delay having to touch his genitals. It’s not that he had any issue with genitals. Touching Atsushi was one thing. Touching another person was… another thing.


Raymond was now flushed, his breathing shallow as he moaned and sighed to Imai’s every move. Finally out of thigh to clean, Imai paused and sighed heavily. “Hey Maki, do you think we can gag him? I think he might get too noisy.”


“Uh…” Maki dug into the duffel bag again and found a hand towel. “Okay, here.” He tossed it to Imai as well.


Scrunching the hand towel up into a ball, Imai loosened Raymond’s jaw and stuffed the fabric into his open mouth as he kicked enthusiastically and groaned, “Yes, baby! Do me rough!”


“You’re not getting anything if you don’t stop flailing around,” Imai deadpanned. This was getting exhausting.


Thankfully, Raymond obediently stopped moving. Breathing quickly, he could barely contain himself as he sat still and waited in anticipation.


“Well,” Imai took the clean towel off his shoulder. “Here goes…”


Lifting Raymond’s hips again, Imai got the towel beneath Raymond and cleaned the lube off his behind. As the towel went between his buttcheeks, it grazed past Raymond’s asshole, drawing out an enthusiastic, but muffled moan from Raymond. Imai ignored him and the towel continued travelling through his underside.With the fabric in hand, Imai middle finger traced Raymond’s raphe, pressing into his perineum and the back of his scrotum as he brought his hand to the front. As expected, Raymond’s reaction was euphoric, with muffled yes’s and baby’s escaping his throat while his hands caressed his own torso.


Imai didn’t quite care about what Raymond did, as long as he wasn’t trying to get at him or Maki. Going about his business, Imai continued on, handling Raymond’s scrotum as gently as possible in his hand as he concentrated on getting as much lube off as he could. Out of nowhere, he wondered if Atsushi would appreciate this treatment. Perhaps he should try it with him when he got back.


Raymond’s erection was now twitching and leaking precum with the stimulation from his scrotum. Eyeing it, Imai swallowed. Raymond was large. Larger than what he was used to. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to use his mouth or any part of himself, for that matter.


With his signature expression of indifference, Imai wrapped Raymond’s erection in the lube slicked towel, turning it into a makeshift onacup. He didn’t need to do much once Raymond felt the towel envelop his dick. Almost immediately, Raymond began thrust his hips, enthusiastically fucking the towel of his own accord.


Putting a hand on his hip, Imai simply held the towel in place as Raymond grunted and groaned, noisily getting off to whatever he thought he was fucking in his mind. Turning around, Imai stared at Maki dispassionately, almost rolling his eyes when Maki saluted him. He jerked his head to the latex pants that hung halfway off Raymond’s legs, urging Maki to remove it once and for all. Nodding quickly, Maki went back to tugging it off as Imai turned his attention back to Raymond.


Crying out fervently, Raymond’s thrusting began to slow, eventually coming to a stop as his libido ran out. Glad that he was finally done, Imai removed the towel carefully, making sure not to spill anything. Striding quickly to the bin, he dumped the soiled fabric in, and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally .




“After that, we threw a random pair of slacks on him and dragged him back to the bus,” Imai recounted, slurping on his cup of instant noodles.


Atsushi couldn’t stop his laughter. “I can’t believe you really… jerked him off…”


“What?” Imai glared at him. “That’s what you said to do.”


“You could’ve just tied his jacket around his waist, couldn’t you?” Atsushi pointed out.


Imai dropped his chopsticks as he stared at Atsushi. “ You told me-”


“And you really listened,” Atsushi laughed, clutching his stomach.


Imai stood up and grabbed Atsushi’s face, squeezing it in his hands. “Sakurai Atsushi!”


“Oh god, I’m flattered you trust me that much,” Atsushi giggled.


“And what were you doing that night?!” Imai questioned suddenly.


“Ah?” Atsushi froze. “I was… drinking..?”


“You said you were going to sleep,” Imai recalled. “Since when do you sleep before midnight?!”


“I… I might’ve been drunk?”


Suspicious, Imai narrowed his eyes at Atsushi but eventually gave in. There was no way for him to prove or disprove anything after all. “Well, whatever you say.”


“So what’s a white man’s dick like?” Atsushi suddenly asked, almost making Imai spit his noodles out.


“What kind of a question is that?!”


“I heard caucasians are typically larger,” Atsushi went on nonchalantly.


“Atsushi, please-”


“I wonder what he feels like-”




“I’m kidding,” Atsushi chuckled, beaming wide at Imai’s chagrin.


Imai sighed and slurped up more noodles. “At least that never happened again.”


“Well, if it does, now you know what to do,” Atsushi smirked.


“No thanks to you,” Imai glared.


“You’re very welcome,” Atsushi winked.

Chapter Text

“Ugh, how much longer do we have to stay here, I'm getting bored and the food sucks!” Imai griped to himself right before picking up another tea sandwich and shoving it in his mouth.


The band had been ‘invited’ to attend the wedding party of one of the Record Executive's daughters to a minor pop idol on the same label as them. Clearly feeling out of place in the black-tie event, the five of them grew listless as they were forced to put on their best faces to pose for photos by guests and engage in pointless small talk.

Of course, thankfully the Higuchi brothers had long since become pros at giving first impressions that more than made up for any and all potential social gaffes the other three could come up with.


Throughout the evening, Imai had tried to stay by Sakurai's side, feeling uneasy in that familiar way he did in public situations where he couldn't just hide behind his guitar. Unfortunately for the both of them, Sakurai was in second most demand after the wedding couple themselves and had long since been pulled away into the crowd.

Grabbing a glass of champagne from another server who passed by, Imai drank it down hastily before making his way out to the courtyard of the venue for a smoke.


The courtyard garden was dark save for the light coming from the venue and the street lights and other buildings surrounding it past the tall hedges and stone wall. Finding a small nook to hide himself in, Imai leaned against the exposed stone wall surrounding the courtyard before retrieving a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the interior pocket of his black velvet tuxedo jacket.


“So this is where you ran off to Hisashi.”

Sakurai moved from peeking around the corner to standing front and center. Cigarette already in his lips, Imai pulled out another from his pack, filter pointed at Sakurai as he leaned in to take it in his mouth so that Imai could light their cigarettes together. As they took that first puff in unison, Imai moved to give the other man a spot on the wall to lean against as well.


“You’re the one that abandoned me first. Anyway, I was going to head back in soon, I just wanted to get some fresh air.”


“I told you velvet was going to be too warm for this time of year.”


“Mhm, you did didn’t you.”


As they smoked, Sakurai drank in Imai’s lanky frame in the moonlight. He had teased him for his choice in fabric originally, but having seen him in it all evening had given him a different appreciation.

The tuxedo jacket had been tailored to fit Imai closely, showing off his small frame as opposed to hiding it in fabric the way the jackets he normally wore did with their wide, boxy frames and exaggerated shoulders. His thin lapels were satiny, as was the black bow tie perched crooked around the neck of the white buttoned and pleated shirt he wore, as were his slightly tapered pleated pants that were cuffed peculiarly above the ankles under which Imai wore a pair of two toned tassled loafers.

Even when forced into a dress code, Imai always figured out how to put his own touch to it, Sakurai mused to himself.


“What’s up Acchan?” Imai combed his candy apple red hair back with a hand as he looked up at Sakurai, “Did I spill something on me?” Sakurai simply shook his head and drew closer to Imai, leaning his head on a shoulder as he put out the remainder of the cigarette against the wall.


“You just look… Amazing tonight.”


“Please,” Imai scoffed, “I just picked what looked like it would fit me from the stylists’ wardrobe. Now you,” he leaned his head against Sakurai’s a bit, still nursing his cig, “Well, hah, you could wear a rice sack and still have everyone falling for you but, I sure hope I’m the only one who noticed how the bride kept stealing glances at you once we walked in.”

Imai had tried to play it off, but Sakurai in his double-breasted, long tailed tuxedo had been taking his breath away since he’d stepped out of the studio dressing room where they had all gathered to get ready for the night. It was true that Sakurai was the kind of person who could make anything look attractive, but in something that emphasized it like tonight? Imai hoped he’d caught himself from licking his lips while he thought it over.


“Hisashi,” Sakurai shifted so he could face Imai, “Gimme another cigarette.”


Imai scoffed. “You mean, you’re draped in all that fabric,” he paused and motioned a finger up and down at Sakurai, “And you didn’t have any place to put your own damn smokes in?” As Sakurai laughed in response, Imai rolled his eyes before taking the half-smoked cigarette from his own mouth and putting it between Sakurai’s lips.


“Are you seriously wearing cherry Chapstick Hisashi?"


"Are you seriously licking the fucking filter on that Acchan?”


Sakurai laughed, stubbing out the cigarette on the wall before tossing it on the grass under them. Stepping on the snuffed cigarette as if to stamp it out further, he moved to face Imai, hands reaching up to straighten his bowtie.

“I could… Lick something else if you'd prefer.” Before Imai could protest, Sakurai was already pushing him back against the wall, hands gathering up his lapels as he kissed him. Imai felt Sakurai's tongue pry between his lips and run against his teeth. Caught in a laugh as Sakurai dipped into the gap where he was missing a tooth, he felt Sakurai take advantage and open his mouth so his tongue could explore further.


When Sakurai brought his hands to run down the soft velvet of Imai's suit, Imai in turn grabbed Sakurai's lapels to deepen their kiss, humming as he felt Sakurai's hands move up under his short jacket. Sakurai caressed and kneaded Imai's waist before breaking away from their kiss, eyes hungrily fixated on Imai's as he licked his lips, savoring the taste of tobacco and flavored lip gloss.


“Maimai." Imai swallowed hard at Sakurai moving to that particular nickname. “Keep an eye out. Don't make too much noise."


And with that, Sakurai was already down on his knees and unzipping the fly of Imai's pants. As he reached inside to gently squeeze the front of Imai’s briefs, he felt fingers nervously raking through his blonde hair. Looking up, he watched as Imai stared out ahead, eyes wide open and hypervigilant. Sakurai frowned. He'd hoped the risk of getting caught in public would excite Imai as much as it did himself, but it was clear that even though he was willing to go along there would have been no enjoyment on his end.


Getting Imai back to a proper state below the waist, Sakurai pulled himself up and sighed loudly as he buried himself into Imai's shoulder to mope.

“It's not fun if you're not going to like it Hisashi.”


"Sorry.” Imai felt like an absolute wet blanket.


Stroking Sakurai's hair to comfort him, Imai smiled softly.

“Why don't we go back in and see if we can't smuggle a bottle of something back to my place for the night?” He felt Sakurai grin against his neck before the man pulled away to kiss his cheek.


“That sounds good to me Maimai."

Chapter Text

Stripped bare and naked, Atsushi crouched on the high stool in the recording studio, motionless as he waited for Imai to return from his ‘break’. The only thing he could hear in the silence was his own breathing. With his long hair in his face, blocking his view, Atsushi could not see anything either. If someone entered the studio, there was no way for him to know if it was indeed Imai or some other person instead. Imai had said that the studio was booked out by them for the whole day, but one could never be too sure.

Atsushi tried to move his knees but only managed to wobble at this precarious height. Worried about falling off onto the floor, Atsushi stopped moving. He knelt on the wooden stool, thighs and calves bound together and his posterior sticking out on full display, with his hands reaching down towards the floor, wrists bound together by Imai’s belt around the handle of the heavy amplifier that laid on its side. This position made his hair fall to the front, covering his face and obstructing his vision. It also made his body ache from the stretch and the exertion of maintaining his balance.

A sudden spot of heat bloomed on Atsushi’s tailbone. He gasped, surprised by the sensation before recalling that Imai had supposedly put and lit a candle in the mic holder. If he remembered correctly, Imai had made sure that it was angled down to make the melted wax drip onto him.

A second drop made Atsushi suck in a sharp breath. He supposed it was going to start dripping steadily now. He bit his lip. There wasn’t much he could do about this though. As the wax continued falling, it started to pool and flow, slowly making its way down Atsushi’s back as it followed the curve of his spine.

Atsushi was sure that Imai had not been gone for all that long, but perched in such a helpless, vulnerable state, every minute felt like an eternity. As he waited, his shaky breaths dominated his hearing. He desperately wanted to know the time but without even the ticking of a clock to be heard, the only thing Atsushi had to gauge the time from was the steady dripping of the wax that had now flowed to the middle of his back.

How long did Imai say he was going to be? It couldn’t be five or ten minutes. It felt like more time than that had passed by now. Atsushi shifted, trying to get the blood flowing in his legs but when a fresh spot of heat hit his skin, he realised that the wax was going to land on his bare skin again instead of the layer that had already built up on the previous spot. He stopped moving and felt his skin tingle from the next drop that fell. He let out a long breath. Maybe he should try and find the old spot again.

Shifting again, Atsushi tried to revert to his original position, but when the next drop fell, it hit the top of his butt crack and flowed down towards more sensitive skin. Atsushi hissed and quickly shifted, doing his best to stay on the stool as he did. When the next bit of melted wax hit him, it landed on bare skin again, but to the left side of his lower spine instead. Atsushi grimaced. It wasn’t the exact spot he wanted it to be, but he wasn’t going to try and move again.

Reverting to stillness, Atsushi tried to be patient, quietly waiting for Imai’s return, but he found himself counting the number of droplets that hit him. He could feel the wax flowing down his back again, creating new paths and eventually meeting the original one that went along his spine. Although counting was the only thing he could do, Atsushi still found it difficult to stay focused on the numbers as the wax flowed between his shoulder blades, now approaching the nape of his neck. He shuddered. He didn’t want the wax touching his hair. It would be a pain to remove after this.

The studio door clicked open, startling Atsushi as he snapped his head towards the noise. He couldn’t see a thing through his hair. “Hisashi?” he called.

No response.

The person’s footsteps were quiet, much unlike Imai’s usual shuffling. A ball of worry grew in the pit of Atsushi’s stomach. Did someone else enter the room? He squirmed in discomfort. Having someone else walk in on him looking like this… Atsushi felt heat rushing to his face as he called again, hoping. “Hisashi, is that you?”

Still no response.

Atsushi cursed, tossing his head around wildly in an attempt to flip his hair away. He heard the squeal of the mic stand turning away, followed by a short huff of breath. The person was close now.

“Hisashi? Please tell me it’s you,” Atsushi said, his voice breathless with anxiety.

A hand touched Atsushi’s back, making him jolt in surprise. Atsushi felt his insides squeeze in panic. He didn’t want to be touched by some stranger. If it was Imai, why wasn’t he responding?

“Hisashi?” Atsushi called again, desperately hoping for the reply that never came.

Atsushi’s body trembled as the hand caressed his back, smoothing over his bare skin while scratching off bits of wax with fingernails. The hand slid along the silhouette of his body, fingertips carelessly brushing over his nipples, stiff from embarrassment as Atsushi whimpered. The hand continued on without pause, travelling over his waist, past his hips, and to his rear.

Groping his supple behind, fingers slid into his crack, going past Atsushi’s entrance and pressing into his perineum. Atsushi jerked and cried out, shaking his head as he tried to deny the pleasure. He didn’t want to get into it, not unless it was Imai who was teasing him.

“Hisashi, please,” Atsushi pleaded, now on the verge of tears.

Before he could say anything else, Atsushi felt something enter him and another cry ripped from his throat. Hot tears spilled from his eyes as he moaned, unable to speak from the pleasure and overwhelming chagrin that it brought him. Feeling his insides stir, Atsushi realised that fingers were inside him, curling and stimulating his prostate. Even as Atsushi’s groin warmed and his moaning grew, the tears wouldn’t stop. For once in his life, he wasn’t enjoying any part of this at all.

The fingers finally left and Atsushi slumped down, sucking in deep breaths as his body shook. Amidst his heavy breathing, Atsushi heard the sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes. Panic stabbed at him again as the heat of an erection appeared between his butt cheeks. Atsushi felt the heat rubbing against his skin and hands holding his hips, one on each side, caressing him.

Atsushi’s breath began to hitch, sobbing as he shook his head weakly. “No…” he whimpered as his voice shook in his struggle to speak. “I don’t… I don’t want…”

Immediately, the heat disappeared with another rustle of clothes. This time, Atsushi heard Imai’s familiar shuffling, hastily moving around. Imai’s worn out sneakers stopped within his line of sight and Atsushi choked out a laugh. Hands gently gathered up his long hair, brushing it away to finally bring his vision back. Feeling a gentle tug on his hair, Atsushi looked up and saw Imai’s concerned face peering down at him. The moment their eyes met, Imai cursed and let go.

“Hisashi…” Atsushi breathed and sobbed again, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as he watched Imai hurriedly free his wrists.

Once the belt came undone, Imai eased Atsushi back upright and held him tight as he sobbed into his shirt. Overcome by relief and elation at the sight of Imai, Atsushi grasped Imai’s tee, bunching the fabric up in his hands as he pressed himself to Imai’s chest. Letting his emotions take over, he wailed as he took comfort from Imai’s back rubs, his fingers running through his hair, and the gentle shushing that Imai whispered into his ears.

It took awhile, but Atsushi eventually calmed down. He finally managed a quiet “Hisashi…”, to which Imai responded by pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m here now,” Imai muttered, repeating himself as he stroked Atsushi’s hair. “Was it too much?” he asked.

With his arms around Imai, Atsushi hugged him tighter and muttered, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I’m the only other person around here aside from you,” Imai reminded. “I told you we’re the only ones using the studio today, didn’t I?”

“I wasn’t sure…”

“Don’t you trust me?” Imai asked, chuckling.

Atsushi pressed his face into Imai’s shirt, feeling sheepish. “But… your footsteps sounded different, and you weren’t saying a thing…”

“Hm… If that convinced you so well, I guess I really overdid it then,” Imai muttered. He pressed his lips to Atsushi’s forehead, saying softly, “I’m sorry for that.”

Atsushi smiled up at him, eyes tired and puffy from crying. “I’m just glad it really was you.”

Imai brushed his thumbs over Atsushi’s tearstained cheeks, expression growing soft as he gazed at him. “Shall we call it a day?”

To Imai’s surprise, Atsushi shook his head. “Help me end this on a high,” he said, smiling as he leaned back with his arms still around Imai.

“Still up for it?” Imai asked, scepticism in his tone.

Atsushi gave him a firm nod. “Take me from behind,” he said with conviction.

That made Imai laugh. “If you say so,” he grinned.

Combing Atsushi’s hair back with his fingers, Imai brought his face close and kissed him. As they kissed, Atsushi brought his hands to Imai’s front and started unbuttoning his jeans. Slowly pulling the zipper down its track, he freed Imai’s half-hard penis from his underwear. Breaking the kiss but not their gaze, Atsushi kept his eyes on Imai as he sank lower and took him in his mouth.

Atsushi could hear Imai sigh as he bobbed his head, sucking enthusiastically on Imai’s member. Growing hard in Atsushi’s mouth, Imai gathered Atsushi’s long hair in his hand and gently tugged his head away, making Atsushi let his erection slid out of his mouth with saliva trailing.

Atsushi watched Imai with half-lidded eyes as he bent over to right the amplifier, creating a slightly higher platform for Atsushi to prop his hands against. Turning silent again, Imai merely smiled as Atsushi blinked at him suggestively. Imai took Atsushi’s hands off him, placed them on the top of the amp, and walked to the back, dragging his hand along Atsushi’s body as he did.

When Imai’s fingers brushed over his nipple, Atsushi arched his back and whined, now enjoying the sensation. As he felt Imai’s hands all over his naked body, caressing and massaging him as he groped, Atsushi felt his breathing quicken from the shivers of delight that raced through him.

It didn’t take long for Imai to put his erection back between Atsushi’s butt cheeks. Rubbing himself between the soft mounds of flesh on Atsushi’s bottom, he got off to Atsushi’s moans begging him for penetration. Callused fingers tickled Atsushi’s neck as Imai gathered his hair up again. Bunching up Atsushi’s dark locks in one hand while holding his erection in the other, Imai rubbed his tip against Atsushi’s entrance, teasing his eager partner even more. Having smeared his precum on Atsushi’s anus, Imai began to ease himself in, slowly dragging out the pleasure of Atsushi’s ass closing around him.

Atsushi moaned, craning his neck back to Imai’s hair pulling as his crotch warmed and tingled from Imai’s insertion. As Imai began to move his hips, Atsushi tightened his grip around the handle of the amplifier, digging his nails into his palm as Imai’s erection rubbed his prostate. Imai leaned in as he thrust, hugging Atsushi with one arm while he kept a taut grip on Atsushi’s hair with the other. As Imai let go for a moment, Atsushi felt the tension on his hair disappear. From the back of Atsushi’s neck, Imai’s fingers crept up his head, scratching his scalp as he curled his fingers into Atsushi’s hair again for a tighter grip on him.

A fog began to descend on Atsushi’s mind as he lost himself to the pleasure. Eyes growing unfocused, Atsushi felt Imai’s lips on his shoulder, kissing him as the hand against his scalp shifted to his throat. Imai felt the vibrations of Atsushi’s vocal chords against his palm as Atsushi’s impassioned moaning filled the sound-proofed studio. Breathing heavy, Imai curled his body against Atsushi’s, holding him close as he rammed himself into Atsushi until he came with a sigh to Atsushi’s rapturous cries.

Pulling out, Imai quickly tended to himself first before turning his attention to Atsushi. Putting his arms around Atsushi, Imai lifted his torso, unfolding Atsushi’s body as he leaned back against Imai’s chest. Glancing at Atsushi’s fading erection and the creamy white discharge on his stomach, Imai smirked to himself and started removing the audio cables that kept Atsushi’s legs folded.

Once done, Imai slowly stretched Atsushi’s stiff, aching legs out and carried him off the stool, setting him down on the couch in a corner of the studio. After cleaning Atsushi up, Imai got him back into his baggy jeans before busying himself with reverting the studio back to its original state again. When Imai returned to the couch, he found Atsushi lying on his side, watching Imai quietly with an air of quiet melancholy.

Lying down with Atsushi, Imai caressed his cheek and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head as a small smile emerged on his lips, Atsushi blinked slowly and answered, “Just thinking.”

“You sure?” Imai asked, worry gnawing at him in the back of his mind. He had to admit that making Atsushi cry had deeply unsettled him.

Atsushi nodded and snuggled closer to Imai, burying his head in his chest. Hugging Imai, he muttered softly, “Just awhile…”

Nodding mutely, Imai returned the embrace, mindlessly drawing circles on Atsushi’s skin with his fingers as they lay together in silence and basked in the fading afterglow.

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday, to you

Happy birthday, to you~"


Imai grinned as he walked into the private dining room of the restaurant. Around the table was an assortment of friends, all raising a glass while singing together in the least harmonious chorus ever.

People shuffled around, allowing him to get to the empty space between Sakurai and Maki, who greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug respectively as he sat down at the long table.

From across the table, Sugizo reached over to place a cone shaped party hat that had been decorated into a witch hat on Imai's head.


The evening passed with plenty of revelries. Considering the life of being in a band, the party was as much for Imai as it was for everyone to get together and catch up.


The table had been covered in a variety of plates of different foods. Fresh sushi, gyoza, and a variety of raw vegetables and meats for both the hot pot bubbling away on one burner and the small tabletop grill on the other side. Various bottles of beer, wine, sake, and whiskey dotted around the table as well. It seemed like no expense was spared for his day.


Imai found himself being fed directly by the table. Chopsticks full of food reached out to meet his lips, as well as glasses of alcohol that never seemed to run empty. At some point, he found himself leaning against Sakurai for support, his partials lost to the clutter on the table after he'd taken them out in order to lazily drink some water from a straw that Maki was holding up.


“Maimai, you think you can sit up for a bit? I'm going to help Yokoyama-kun clear the table so we can bring out the cake. Imai grinned at Sakurai, looking ridiculous with the straw through the gap in his teeth as he rested himself on the table with his elbows. Imai was definitely feeling the booze, but with everyone around him controlling his intake they'd managed to keep him in that hard to reach space between sober and blackout in his personal tolerance levels.

He'd been listening to Miyavi and Hotei talk shop about guitars and touring abroad while Hide, Kiyoshi, and some others would chime in from to time. Once the table had been cleaned off, Yokoyama and Sakurai left to go get the cake


The door to the room opened again some time later, signalling the cake’s arrival. Imai was surprised. The cake, which Sakurai carried in both arms, seemed to be a bit too small for all of the people in the room. It was a lovely looking cake however, he mused as Sakurai set it out in front of him.


As Sakurai moved to sit by Imai again, the rest of the room sang Happy Birthday once more as Sakurai began to cut the cake into small slices. It was barely a bite or two to the squares he cut, so Imai wondered if they had ordered the wrong size and were just trying to make do.


Then it happened.


Delicately, Sakurai picked up a slice of cake in one hand and held Imai's chin with the other, turning him to face him. With a mischievous glint in his eyes Sakurai smiled widely as he brought the cake up to Imai's lips. As Imai opened his mouth to take the cake, Sakurai pushed it in partly before he replaced his fingers with his own mouth, crushing the cake between them in a messy kiss. While Imai swallowed the bit of cake he had bitten off, Sakurai sucked on his lips, smearing icing over Imai's face as he did.


Humming in delight, Sakurai pulled away, laughing as he wiped away a bit of frosting on Imai's face with his thumb before pushing it into Imai's mouth.


“Who wants to share a bite with the birthday boy next?” Sakurai held out another piece of cake to punctuate his offer.


In response, a few people got up to leave. Toll coughed uncomfortably as he pulled a reluctant Yukata to come with, saying a hasty goodbye as they left. Kiyoshi's eyes darted nervously between Imai and Sakurai.


Eventually, pushing the cake plate aside was J, who leaned across the table to take the slice out of Sakurai's hand with his teeth. Grabbing Imai by his button down, J pulled him to sit up on the table before pressing their faces together.


Imai closed his eyes as J’s tongue danced against his own, the moist chocolate cake crumbling in and around their mouths as J held his face firm and steady they kissed passionately.


“J-kun don't be so greedy," Imai heard Sakurai say as hands grasped him from behind and dragged him to another group of guests, “Give everyone else a turn.


Imai was passed across the table in a haphazard fashion as the men in the room took the opportunity to 'feed’ him. At some point, his shirt had been unbuttoned and the men moved to smearing cake on his bare torso and eating it off him, licking and nibbling across his skin.


Pinned down on the table by Die and Kiyoharu kissing down his neck Imai moaned against Kyono’s fingers in his mouth, kicking a bit as he writhed from all of the stimulation. He felt hands run down his sides and another pair at his waist, unbuckling and unzipping as more hands at his legs tugged at the fabric until it was pulled down completely. A hand with well-manicured nails raked down the inside of Imai's inner thigh, from knee to the leg opening on his briefs before it suddenly pulled away.


“Ah-ah Sugi-chan~ The only one getting to unwrap any packages tonight is our dear Maimai.”

Imai's frustrated groan from Sugizo’s nails leaving him gave way to sighs as he felt Sakurai's familiar cold hands kneading his legs in consolation.

With Kiyoharu and Die pulling away from him, Imai struggled a bit to sit up. on his own, feeling light-headed and dazed. He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to get the excess cake and frosting out of his mouth before he spoke.


“Imai-kun, do you need something to drink?” Strong hands wrapped around him from the side and pulled him near. It was Hotei, who then held a wine glass with what looked like water up to Imai’s lips. Imai took the glass into his own hands and drank deeply from it, not paying attention to what spilled out the corner of his mouth until Hotei took the now empty glass away and wiped it away from Imai’s face with his thumb. Slowly, Imai looked over the guests at the table, locking eyes as soon as he found the one he was looking for.


“Hide,” Imai said as he shifted to face him straight on, “You really just gonna sit there and watch?” Hide shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as all eyes turned to him. He hadn’t been sure what was really in store until J’s first kiss with Imai. At that point he’d found himself glued to his seat despite his urge to leave far far away, and was silently cursing that he hadn’t been able to.

Now, a stripped down, filthy, and very inebriated Imai was slowly crawling towards him. Resting both hands on the table, Hide tried to push his chair out to leave, but found Inoran and Ishigaki grabbing hold of his wrists to keep him in place.


Imai stopped at the edge of the table, leaning forward just enough to come nose to nose with Hide. He stared hard at the man, making Hide gulp in reflex, before he drew back with a laugh. Michiro Endo waved a bottle of some kind of brown liquor at Imai, contents sloshing as he did. With an eye still on Hide, Imai moved towards Endo and reached out for the bottle. Before he handed it off though, Endo instead brought it up over Imai’s head, laughing as he dumped it out over his head. Imai gasped and shook his head, flinging droplets of alcohol at everyone as they whooped and cheered. All but Hide, who looked more like a deer caught in headlights than before.


“Hmph, you’re so rude Hoshino-san,” Sakurai pouted, stretching out a hand to brush across Imai’s shoulders, trying to call him back to him. “Come on Maimai, let’s start opening your presents.”

Imai fumbled as he tried to get down off the table, but was caught in time by Maki.


One by one, everyone at the table got up and made their way near the wall of the entryway. Witnessing an opportunity to escape, Hide made a beeline to the door but was blocked by Ryuichi and Toshiya leaning up against the door before forcing him to stand beside them.


Sakurai and Maki supported Imai by the waist, one of his arms draped over each of their shoulders as he staggered forward towards the group that started to close in around him. Dropping Imai gently down to his knees, Sakurai then approached Hide and grabbed him by a fistfull of his shirt. Bringing Hide to a halt in front of Imai, face to crotch, Sakurai smiled at Hide as he sunk down behind Imai and wrapped his arms around him.


“Mm, Maimai,” Sakurai nuzzled into Imai’s ear as he spoke, “Look at how nice of Hide to want to give you your first birthday gift. Go on now.”


As Imai’s hands settled on the front of his pants, drunkenly trying to figure out how to undo his belt buckle, Hide tried to back away. In response, the group drew in tighter, pushing Hide back to Imai as hands darted out to undo his pants for him. As his pants were shoved down to his knees, Hide stared down, past his embarrassingly hard erection to Imai’s drunk and excited grin.


Tentatively, Imai licked at Hide’s tip before opening wide to fully take him into his mouth. Sakurai stayed crouched behind Imai, whispering praises and encouragement as he bobbed his head on Hide’s full length, moaning as he pushed him against the back of his throat.

In response to Imai’s warm and wet mouth sucking away, Hide found himself gripping into fistfulls of Imai’s hair as he tried to refrain from thrusting his hips. But when Imai pushed Hide back past his gag reflex and held him there, Hide began to buck with a whine, trying desperately to get the friction against his erection back.

Sakurai recognized the look on Hide’s face and pulled Imai back, causing both men to gasp as they were seperated. Hide felt someone move to stand beside him and he looked over to see it was Takeshi Ueda, pants already undone with one hand hard at work on himself as he beckoned Imai with the other.


One after another, each of them in the room took a turn with Imai’s mouth, letting him fuck them with it as he pleased. As the urge to climax drew upon the group, they found themselves getting rougher however, and trying to see how many of them Imai could take in his mouth at once. The sensations and attention eventually made Imai stop, wanting to attend to his own growing desire. In response, Sakurai snaked his hand down to wrap around Imai, warning him that if he quit sucking off his friends that Sakurai would quit jerking him off in return. Imai responded with a weak sound before he was promptly gagged up by Motokatsui’s dick this time.


Once everyone had had their turn with Imai, Sakurai rose up to his feet, turning Imai to face him.

“Maimai,” Sakurai playfully slapped at Imai’s cheek, “Have you been enjoying your presents? We all have one last one for you.”

Pushing his own pants down, Sakurai was the last one Imai went down on, frantically bobbing away as he jerked himself off in time. Everyone drew closer and Imai’s eyes moved to look at them all with a groan of excitement as he pulled off of Sakurai with a wet pop before opening his mouth wide open as he closed his eyes.


He stayed in that position, still stroking his own erection, as he felt streams of warm liquids fall all over his face, against his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips and tongue as they all ejaculated on him, a cacophony of vocals crying out above him in ecstasy as they did. He licked up what he could reach and waited for someone to wipe away his eyes so he could look up at everyone as he came into his own hand himself with a harsh moan before slumping over, exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up with him.


Laughing softly, Sakurai picked up his guitarist, cradling him in his arms as he asked for a hand in cleaning him up enough to take home. Once they had him dressed again and wiped down his face, Sakurai thanked everyone for showing up before carrying the unconscious but breathing man out of the already emptied restaurant and into the cab waiting for them.

Sitting Imai up on his own before buckling him in with the seat belt, Sakurai then slid in beside him and did the same. As the cab started on its way, the movement made Imai shift and lean into Sakurai’s shoulder, mumbling something before drifting back off to sleep.

Locking arms with Imai before entwining their fingers together, Sakurai then brought Imai’s knuckles up to his lips to kiss.


“Happy birthday Maimai. I told you everyone loves you, didn’t I?”


Chapter Text

Issay squatted down on the concrete floor, pursing his lips as he put the wine bottle down next to him. He made a date last week with Atsushi to come over to his apartment and drink but Atsushi hasn’t answered his door after fifteen minutes of ringing. It wasn’t like there was no one home though. While Issay was mashing the doorbell, he could hear chairs scraping the floor and thumping coming from within. That couldn't be the cats. That was far too much moving for cats to do.

Propping his head up in his palm, Issay sighed and stared at the closed door. This wasn't like Atsushi. What on earth was he occupied with? Did he forget about their appointment? As Issay contemplated the option of going home, he heard shuffling approach and pause. He looked up. He recognised that lanky form.

“Issay? What are you doing here?” Imai greeted with an incline of his head.

Issay raised the bottle of wine. “Date. Supposedly,” he said, shrugging. “But he's not answering the door. And you're here…?”

Imai looked confused. “I wanted to go through the music with him and he said to come in the evening…?”

Issay looked him up and down, quietly noting that Imai didn’t bring anything along with him. He scoffed, turning back to look at the door. “I guess he double booked,” he concluded. Standing up with a sigh, he muttered, “Even though we planned this a week ago…”

“Are you sure he's at home though?” Imai asked, pressing the doorbell as he glanced doubtfully at Issay. “He might’ve just stepped out for a bit.”

“Just listen,” Issay said, gesturing towards the door as he picked up the bottle of wine and held it between his fingers.

Imai remained still as he tried to hear beyond the door. True enough, there was something like a grunt coming from inside the house but it didn’t sound like anyone was approaching the door. Imai frowned and pressed the doorbell a few more times in succession.

“Since you'll be… working, I might as well go home,” Issay muttered, his soles shuffling around as he turned to leave.

Imai scratched his chin, frowning. “I have a feeling he's not…”

“Not what?” Issay asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Bending down, Imai flipped a corner of the doormat and picked a key up from underneath. “Not in the right state of mind for work,” Imai finished.

Issay raised a brow at the key.

“Don't tell him I know about this,” Imai muttered as he turned to unlock the door.

“Whatever, bye.” Issay waved a hand in a dismissive fashion, walking away as the door creaked open softly.

Imai scoffed. “Hey, Issay, you might want to see this,” he said with his voice low as he beckoned to Issay.

“Hm?” Issay turned and found Imai peering into the house with a weird look on his face. Curious, he went over and looked in as well. “Huh,” he scoffed himself. “So he triple booked. Rude."

Atsushi was straight up pounding a woman, still wearing some kind of figure-hugging dress, against the couch in his living room. Atsushi himself still had his long-sleeved cotton shirt and sweatpants on, simply pushed lower as he continued thrusting, oblivious to the intrusion.

“You ever seen that woman before?” Issay asked.

Squinting his eyes at the scene, Imai muttered, “I don't think so… Probably some one-night stand.”

“It's barely past eight though,” Issay noted.

“Recurring one-night stander…? Maybe she showed up at his door like we did,” Imai mused.

“And skip the queue?” Issay muttered, annoyed. Shoving past Imai, he stepped into the apartment on his own.

“I thought you were going home?” Imai asked, closing the door quietly behind him as he watched Issay kick his shoes off with frustration.

“Not until he knows he’s fucked up,” Issay muttered, storming into the living space.

Setting wine bottle down on the dining table with a firm thud, Issay glared at Atsushi who paused mid-stroke, startled by the sudden noise. Turning, his eyes were wide with shock as he met Issay’s eyes.

Flustered, Atsushi blurted, “Issay?! Why- How did-?”

Imai came up behind Issay. “Sorry, but still not that sorry for the intrusion,” he muttered, sounding mildly exasperated at Atsushi as he pursed his lips.

“Hisashi!?” Atsushi hastily removed himself from the woman, growing increasingly embarrassed and flustered as he pulled his pants back up.

The woman looked surprised but unfazed. Rather, she appeared somewhat excited as she asked, “Are they here to join in?”

To which Issay responded with a stony expression, answering immediately with a deadpanned “no”.

“Fancy you pulling something like this,” Imai remarked, glancing sidelong at Issay as he spoke.

Sensing the growing discontentment in Issay, Atsushi turned sharply, muttering to the woman, “Get out.”

“What?” the woman exclaimed, affronted. “But-”

“Get. Out,” Atsushi repeated, a growl creeping into his voice, a warning.

The woman jumped back slightly, suddenly feeling on edge. Scrunching her made-up face in indignation, she grabbed her coat from the couch and walked out, resentful eyes darting between the three men who watched her with a silence so heavy it could be cut with a knife.

Imai followed the woman towards the door, catching her firmly by the arm as he muttered something to her discreetly. Issay stared at Atsushi, displeasure rolling off him in waves. Turned away with his head hanging low as his fingers dug into the arm of the couch, Atsushi could barely meet Issay’s eyes.

The door opened and closed, signalling the woman’s exit. The moment Imai locked it, Issay muttered, his voice low, “You were enjoying that, weren’t you?”

Sucking in a breath, Atsushi began, “Issay, I-”

“Don’t deny it,” Issay interrupted. “I can see it on your face.” Atsushi was visibly crumbling under his scrutiny. “I can’t believe you forgot,” he remarked.

Atsushi’s head snapped up, his eyes glistening with distress. “I didn't!” Atsushi denied. “We agreed on Wednesday, didn't we?”

“Acchan, that’s today,” Issay informed, disappointment now apparent on his face.

“Isn’t that tomorrow?” Atsushi muttered, staring at the floor in confusion.

“It’s today,” Imai confirmed, coming back into the living area. “Seriously, you doing this to me is one thing, but to him ?”

“What part of ‘this’ are you referring to?” Issay asked, suddenly addressing Imai as Atsushi grappled with his bewilderment.

“Uh… everything?” Imai answered. “Losing track of time, forgetting dates, fucking someone else in front of me.”

Issay stared at Imai, perplexed. “Why do you let him?”

Imai shrugged. “Sometimes I do the same.”

Issay frowned and shook his head, unable to comprehend. “Do you guys have a thing for watching ?”

“Watching his expression is quite something though,” Imai muttered, scrunching his face up slightly as he thought about it.

“Fine. Then show me,” Issay said. Pulling out a dining chair to face the couch, he sat down, crossing his legs.

“What?” Imai blurted, stunned by his sudden demand.

“If you’re not going to initiate it, fine,” Issay said. His disappointment in Atsushi seemed to have warped into some sort of spiteful wrath. “Atsushi,” he called with a commanding tone.

Atsushi felt his insides chill from the way Issay addressed him. Hesitant, he turned slowly, warily, flinching slightly as he met Issay’s disdainful gaze. “Issay…” His voice wavered as he responded, worried about what comes next.

“Let your Hisashi fuck you,” Issay ordered. “And make sure you enjoy it.”

“Ahn?” Atsushi, baffled by Issay’s instruction, started towards him but Issay’s gaze hardened, stopping him in his tracks.

“Since you like fucking around so much, go ahead. Show me,” Issay stated.

Through all of this, Imai had no idea what he should do. He could leave but who knows what Issay would do after that. It seemed like he was more than willing to break Atsushi to bits now. If that really happened, Imai wasn’t sure that anyone could rectify that, not even him.

Issay’s stare was unwavering as he waited. “Get to it before I’m bored enough to leave,” he said, folding his arms and resting an elbow on his knee with his chin on his fist. “I’m not coming back once I do,” Issay warned.

Driven by desperation to bring his tender, loving Issay back, Atsushi veered towards Imai, wrapped him in his arms, and pressed their lips together, kissing him with fervour. Imai let himself get swept away by Atsushi’s outburst, going along with the turbulent flow as he felt Atsushi’s hands wrestling with his clothes in a rush to undress him. There wasn't much else he could do if he wanted to make sure that Atsushi ended this night in one piece.

Atsushi groaned as he ground his pelvis against Imai's, his body responding favourably. Feeling Imai grow hard against his own erection as his top started hitching higher, Atsushi slid down and out of his shirt, promptly moving towards Imai's crotch as he undid his pants.

Atsushi dared a glance at Issay, hoping to see some form of discomfort on his face but that unchanging cold indifference stared back at him. Hurt, Atsushi tore his eyes away from Issay and looked up at Imai as he slid his mouth over his erection with a breathless whisper of “Hisashi…”.

Making eye contact with Imai, Atsushi licked and sucked Imai's member, humming with pleasure as Imai ran his fingers through his hair. Replacing his mouth with a hand, Atsushi moved lower, kissing Imai's skin as he edged towards his scrotum. Nipping his inner thigh, Atsushi made Imai groan before taking Imai's balls in his mouth. As he sucked, Atsushi heard a rustle of clothing and he glanced at Issay, who finally reacted, if barely. All he did was cross his legs the other way before resuming his position and apathetic stare.

With an indignant huff, Atsushi turned his focus back to Imai, thumbing his tip as his fingers danced along his frenulum. Imai gasped and moaned, unable to hold his voice back from Atsushi’s teasing. Smiling at Imai's reaction, Atsushi raised himself up, finally easing his pants, the final piece of clothing on his body, off.

Atsushi's penis was erect and twitching, still excited from his earlier incomplete tryst. But he chose to ignore his own erection. Putting Imai’s penis back into his mouth, Atsushi sucked noisily as he slathered it with as much saliva as he could. Meanwhile, Atsushi reached up with his other hand, prodding Imai's lips with his fingers until Imai caught his cue and began to suck on them, coating them with his own saliva.

Once thoroughly wet, Atsushi bought his fingers back to his own entrance, circling his rim with his own fingers as he teased himself before putting them in. He arched his body at their entry, moaning as he thrust into himself while he continued sucking on Imai.

Suddenly, Atsushi felt Imai's fingers grasp his hair, shoving his head down to make him take him to the hilt. As Atsushi drew back, Imai began bucking his hips, groaning with pleasure as he thrust roughly into Atsushi's mouth until he ejaculated into the back of his throat.

As violent as it was, Imai preferred this over letting Issay watch either him or Atsushi penetrate the other. Atsushi’s discomfort from the rough treatment should soften Issay's stance against Atsushi. Or so he hoped.

Struggling not to choke or cough too much, Atsushi withdrew his fingers from himself as he focused on drinking Imai up, licking and kissing where he could. Once done, Atsushi cast his tear-filled eyes up at Imai who gently brushed Atsushi's hair back, out of his face as his fingers caressed his palm. For some reason, Imai's tenderness made his heart ache.

As Imai removed himself from the couch, he glanced briefly at a seemingly indifferent Issay before wordlessly excusing himself for the bathroom. He figured he should probably take his time in there for a bit.

Left alone with Issay, Atsushi found himself frozen under his intense stare. Atsushi stared blankly at the cracked leather of his couch, suddenly too shamefaced to even spare Issay a glance. As time crawled by, Atsushi found his breathing growing shaky, more erratic as he yearned for Issay to do or even say something. Slowly shifting to curl up on his side, facing away from Issay, the silence made his chest feel like it was crumbling from the inside.

Finally, there was a rustle of movement. At this point, Atsushi, too drained under the emotional strain, could barely find any strength in him to move. Quiet footsteps padded on the floor, approaching him before one side of the couch sank from Issay sitting down on it.

Sensing his presence, Atsushi instinctively stretched out, reaching towards Issay. Tentatively, Atsushi brushed his fingers against Issay's shirt, testing to see if he would shift away. He didn't.

Encouraged, Atsushi put his arms around Issay's waist, pulling himself into Issay’s lap and hugging him. Even while Issay let him stay like this, Atsushi still couldn't bear to face him, not when Issay hasn't given any indication of what he presently felt. Not receiving any affection in return felt unbearable though.

Hoping for something more from Issay, Atsushi stilled his trembling jaw and whispered, “Issay…?”

It was only then that Issay began to move. The first thing he did was to remove Atsushi's arms from his person. Atsushi gasped, breath hitching as he resisted, but only slightly. As much as he didn't want to let go, he feared angering Issay more, he feared the possibility that Issay would leave once and for all.

With Atsushi having released him, Issay gathered Atsushi's torso in his own arms, shifting his position to have him rest his torso across his lap. Running his hands over Atsushi's naked body, Issay could feel him shuddering, hear him breathing heavily, probably more from emotion than from arousal at this point.

“You've upset me greatly, Atsushi,” Issay muttered, his voice low.

“Issay, please,” Atsushi began to sob. “I didn’t mean-”

A smack rang echoed through the silent apartment as Issay’s hand struck the supple skin of Atsushi's rear, making Atsushi cry out in surprise and pain. Tears tumbled out of his eyes as he squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging sensation. Flustered, Atsushi tried to speak, “Issay, I-!”

Another smack and a cry.

Atsushi could feel Issay's hand smoothing over his sore skin, strangely gentle in contrast to his strikes. Afraid of speaking again, Atsushi’s restrained voice came out as a whimper as he dug his nails into his palms.

“As much as it hurts me to see you in pain,” Issay's voice breathed, sounding close, “there must be consequence, Atsushi.”


The blows resumed as Issay struck Atsushi at regular intervals, making him moan and cry between each strike. As Atsushi writhed, bringing his legs under him to curl himself smaller, as if to shrink away from Issay's strikes, he never shifted away, willing his body to bear the strikes until Issay's rage wore out.

Atsushi could feel his skin turning numb and his mind going blank as the intervals seemed to fade away, making the strikes feel endless. In the haze of his mind, Atsushi felt as if he was reliving a moment in his childhood, one with sensations similar enough to this moment for both to meld together. Unable to distinguish between the two, Atsushi sobbed, “Papa, please… stop…”

It seemed to have some sort of effect. The harsh impacts that shook Atsushi's body gradually gave way to soft caresses that soothed. Despite the dampness on his cheeks, Atsushi exuded a sigh of pleasure as gentle hands turned his body face up.

As Issay's visage came into focus, Atsushi smiled at the return of the familiar tenderness in his eyes. Fingers brushing away the fresh tears that flowed, Issay leaned in close to Atsushi, giving him his long-awaited kiss.

In savouring the moment, Atsushi felt nudges against his body, small suggestions that carefully guided him to adjust his position. When they broke apart, Atsushi found himself between Issay’s clothed legs, kneeling on the floor as Issay held his chin in his hand, caressing his face.

Putting a hand on the back of Atsushi's neck, Issay smoothed it down his back, lightly applying pressure as he pushed Atsushi down, making him bend over. With his face level to Issay's crotch, Atsushi kept his eyes trained up at Issay as his hand massaged his lower back, slowly edging towards the sore skin on his rear.

Anticipating pain, Atsushi shut his eyes and tensed, hands gripping the edge of the couch seat between Issay's thighs as he waited for the jolt. To his surprise and relief, it never came. Instead, Issay slid his fingers between Atsushi’s butt cheeks, spreading them apart as he felt the joints of Issay's fingers rub over his entrance. As Atsushi's lips begin to part from the light teasing, Issay took Atsushi's hand and placed it over his half-hard cock, hinting at Atsushi to undress him.

His breathing growing heavy from Issay's teasing, Atsushi switched to resting his forearms on the cushions as he unbuckled Issay's belt, unbuttoned his pants, and undid his fly. As Issay's underwear came into view, Atsushi put his hands on Issay's inner thighs, massaging as he nuzzled against his crotch, mouthing at Issay’s steadily hardening member.

Atsushi heard a low mutter from Issay. “Take it out.”

As if in a trance, Atsushi's fingers went Issay's waistband, easing the elastic and fabric lower. With Issay's erection before his face, Atsushi promptly put his tongue to Issay's shaft, licking up and down his length as Issay started to push a finger into Atsushi. Feeling Issay's finger curling in him, stroking his prostate, Atsushi's insides fluttered and he took Issay into his mouth with a low moan.

Another finger entered, stretching Atsushi. The noises he made grew a notch higher, louder at the prospect of Issay in him. Fingers running through Atsushi's hair, Issay leaned forward, emitting a low hum as he curled an arm around Atsushi's shoulders, caressing him.

Atsushi whined softly, enjoying the affection when out of nowhere, a pair of cold, damp hands clasped his hips. Gasping, Atsushi tried to turn around but he was held in place by Issay. With soft, gentle hushes, Issay quelled Atsushi's spike of panic as he withdrew his fingers but kept Atsushi's hole spread and exposed.

Heat pressed against Atsushi and slowly eased in. With Issay's erection still against his lips, Atsushi looked up towards Issay, half-lidded eyes looking for affirmation as he felt Issay’s hand slide back up his back. Quiet murmurs from Issay identified Imai and coaxed Atsushi into putting his mouth to work as Issay held him.

With the beginnings of Imai's thrusting, Atsushi dipped his head down, letting Issay push into the back of his throat, moaning. As Imai moved, Atsushi found himself struggling to stay clear headed, gradually feeling the pleasure cloud his head and his jaw grow slack as it built. He felt Issay shift, movements languid as his fingers curled into Atsushi's hair while he started thrusting. The least Atsushi could manage was bracing himself against the edge of the couch and letting himself get fucked by both men simultaneously.

Atsushi barely noticed Issay's murmurings turning to grunts and moans, only realising it when Issay ejaculated and drew out, spilling his seed over Atsushi's lips. With his throat now unoccupied, Atsushi's impassioned moans filled the apartment, echoing as Imai continued pounding into him. Issay held Atsushi's face in his hands, gentle fingers wiping the discharge off his chin and feeding it into his mouth.

Licking Issay's fingers, Atsushi soon found them replaced by Issay's lips, the familiar sensation overwhelming him. Atsushi's eager hands grabbed at Issay, locking him in his arms as he moaned and came, soiling the floor with white, sticky splashes. Moments later, Imai pulled out from him too and his hands left Atsushi's body, letting him slump into Issay's lap.

As he lay dazed and worn out in Issay's lap, Atsushi felt Issay's hands stroking his hair and rubbing his back in comforting circles. Atsushi sighed and closed his eyes, finally letting his body fully relax. Lying in Issay's half embrace as his mind drifted, Atsushi heard his voice at the edge of his consciousness, chuckling softly as he said, “That face truly is exquisite .”

Chapter Text

When Imai saw the pager code along with a familiar number for the third time in ten minutes he was tempted to take out the batteries, but when he decided to call to chew Sakurai out instead panic started to set in as the line continued to ring busy.


Half an hour later via bus, on which Imai cursed himself for not bothering to have a driver's license, he was finally running up the stairs to Sakurai’s apartment. As he tried to figure out where Sakurai’s frequently rotated spare key was, this time tucked into the light sconce by the door, Imai was finding himself growing clammy with the anxious thoughts that raced through his mind.

Fumbling with the lock, he could hear Sakurai yelling something from within, making him feel relieved that the man wasn’t unconscious or worse.


Sakurai was on the ground behind his sofa when he heard the sound of his front door being slammed open. He cried out in response to Imai calling his name, thankful that he hadn’t ignored his pager messages. When he heard Imai come to a stop in front of him, he rolled up to look at him and cringed at Imai’s expression.


“Acchan, what the fuck?”


Sakurai was on the ground, fully dressed and covered in a tangle of knotted rope wrapped around him. Beside him was his house phone, off the hook as the coiled cable of the receiver led underneath the couch. A quick glance of the studio apartment helped Imai cross off the idea that this had been part of a home invasion, and he laughed wildly in relief, falling over the side of the couch while doing so.


“Holy fucking shit! Did you piss off your girlfriend or something?”


Sakurai struggled to wriggle towards Imai’s feet, trying to bite his ankles in frustration but headbutting him instead.

“Stop laughing and untie me Imai! I can’t feel my hands!”


Wiping tears from his eyes, Imai took deep breaths to compose himself before he kneeled beside Sakurai. He started to work the knots of the long hemp rope free, taking time to gently massage his arms and other more constricted areas to get circulation going again. Finally free, Sakurai sat up and leaned against Imai as his rescuer stroked his long hair to comfort him.

After a few minutes in silence, Imai broke it with soft laughter as he helped Sakurai up to move to the couch.

“Ah stop giving me that pout! I'm sure if you caught me tied up helpless on the floor you'd laugh too.” Getting the phone back on the hook and up on the side table, Imai reached out to ruffle Sakurai's head but was swatted away.


“C’mon Acchan. At least… How did you even get tied up in the first place?”


Sakurai stared down intensely at his bare feet, hoping the long hair he felt fall forward covered the heat he felt on his face.

“I…” he began, with the softest voice, "I wanted to do maybe..."


Imai watched Sakurai as he got up off the couch and headed to his bed in the corner of the room. Picking up a book from the bed, Sakurai walked back and held it open in front of Imai, his eyes still looking away in embarrassment.

On one page was a photo of a woman wearing a t-shirt and jeans in the middle of tying a length of rope around her body in a relatively simple harness pattern. Step by step instructions followed on the next page.

Imai took the book from Sakurai, looking it over with curiosity.


“I was thinking about maybe wearing something like that for our next live,” Sakurai said, eyes focusing on some random spot behind Imai, “It looked easy enough, but I wanted to make sure that I could get in and out as well as if it would be comfortable to perform in.” He sighed and buried his face into his hands, " I don't even know how I got so tangled up, I'm a fucking disaster!”


“I mean," Imai chuckled as he continued poring through the book, “You are but it's not like you didn't expect to maybe run into some trouble,” he snapped the book shut and looked up at Sakurai, who had finally lowered his hands. “How about giving it another go?"


This time, with Imai reading over the steps and helping to keep the excess rope from getting in his way, Sakurai successfully tied himself into the harness. As he walked into the bathroom to admire his handiwork in the sink mirror, Imai trailed close behind, excess rope wrapped neatly in his hands.


“Sakurai Atsushi, you are going to murder at least the first four rows the second you step on stage in this.” Imai playfully tugged at the rope bound around Sakurai's torso as he admired their joint effort up close.

“You know," he started, fingers trailing the rope cautiously, “There's still a lot of rope left…”


"Your point Imai?” Sakurai looked at the other man through the mirror with caution, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.


Imai twisted the excess rope around his wrist before grabbing onto it where it connected to Sakurai's body at the middle of his chest. He then started to gently tug, meeting Sakurai's eyes in the mirror.

“Y’know,” Imai said as he pulled Sakurai to follow him out of the bathroom, “Just that… While we're here we could..." He swallowed, eyes darting down as he suddenly felt shyness trying to stop his proposal, “Well. Maybe we can improve on this a bit more.”


Sakurai raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Well well, I didn’t realize you were interested in this.”


“It’s interesting. I’m interested.” As Sakurai sat down on the mattress, Imai began deftly undoing their rope work. “And besides,” he grinned, “After what I walked in on I sure as hell wouldn’t trust you to tie me up just yet.”


Stripped down to his boxers, Sakurai sat patiently in the middle of the bed as Imai prepared to bind him in the rope. The way Imai was this time around, quiet and focused, was in stark contrast to how they had fumbled and laughed through figuring it out together originally. Gently, Imai’s fingers would skate along Sakurai’s body, wrapping rope around him and knotting it together with a nimble skill.




“Mm? What’s wrong, is it too tight?”


Sakurai shook his head softly. “Not at all. In fact… Are you absolutely sure you’ve never done this before?”


“This? Not at all, now put your hands behind you… yeah just like that.” Imai continued talking while binding up Sakurai’s arms, crossed over each other behind himself, “But y’know, it’s just knots. I’ve been camping before, helped my mom tie up roast with twine… Shit I was the only one that could tie up my sister’s intricate ass furisode right,” he laughed softly remembering the ordeal that day was. “Where do you keep your hair ties? I need to get all of this out of the way.”


Sakurai leaned into Imai running his hands through his long hair before he scooped it up and gathered it together, using the hair tie that was on Sakurai’s nightstand to secure it in a ponytail halfway up his head. Bringing a hand to trace Sakurai’s jaw, Imai stood lost in thought.

He had managed to rebind Sakurai at his chest, this time adding retraints to his arms, but the possibilities of what to do next were so many that he found himself having difficulty deciding what to do next.


“You comfortable how you’re sitting Acchan?” Imai asked, looking at how Sakurai was seated, knees bent and feet tucked underneath.

“I’m feeling a little stiff Imai, but it’s probably because you’re taking so long!” Sakurai laughed as he gently teased Imai to speed it up some. Not that he was worried of what Imai had planned once he’d tied him up as he desired, but the curiosity of what this was leading to excited Sakurai as his mind started to run wild.


“Here," Imai commanded, hand sliding down the small of Sakurai's back, “Sit up a bit for me."

Moved into a kneeling position, Sakurai felt Imai wrap rope around his ankles, binding them away from each other. Imai pushed down lightly onto Sakurai's shoulders, letting him know to sit back down on his legs, before he anchored Sakurai's legs to his arms. Sakurai felt a bit more tugging behind him before Imai returned to his line of sight, wrapping the rope around his neck with room to breathe. Knotting it off, Imai sat back at the edge of the bed, the length of rope long enough to be held still in his hand.


Feeling Imai's gaze as he surveyed his work suddenly made Sakurai feel uncomfortable, especially in the way Imai lingered over each knot and twist on his chest with a hint of hunger behind his brown eyes. He shuffled nervously and felt something tug him back to the head of the bed. Turning his head to look back, Sakurai saw a length of rope lashed onto his headboard, holding him in place. With Imai holding another length in front, tautly but not enough to pull at his neck, it was going to be impossible for Sakurai to do anything more than hold still.

Winding the rope around his fist Imai moved closer to Sakurai and brought a hand to rest on his cheek. Sliding it back, Imai reached behind to remove the hair tie, Sakurai’s hair like strands of silk falling neatly down his back and chest.


“Y’know…” Sakurai watched as Imai idly twirled the end of the rope in his fingers, “I think I did a good enough job that I could just tie this to the leg of you bed and you’d probably be stuck until someone finally showed up to find you.” Imai laughed as he saw Sakurai’s eyes widen at the prospect, dropping rope to cup Sakurai’s face in his hands.

“You really think I’d do that?” He ran his fingers through Sakurai’s hair, pushing it all towards his back, a soft sigh escaping as he continued appraising the sight of the bound up man in front of him.


“I don’t but… I also don’t want you to prove me wrong now either,” he laughed. Sakurai was starting to tire, but was just as fascinated with Imai right now as he was with him. Even Imai’s teasing, which was surely to try to stoke even the tiniest bit of fear in him, failed to do so. Despite being held completely captive, Sakurai was calm and relaxed, if just a bit stiff in the legs.

Satisfied with getting enough of a visual image safely committed to memory, Imai once again brought his hands up to Sakurai’s jaw, scooting in even closer than before.

“You can always say ‘Stop’ at anytime Atsushi. Please tell me if you want me to stop.” Imai held Sakurai’s eyes, his gaze soft yet serious as he spoke. In response, Sakurai closed his eyes and smiled, head shaking gently.


“Don’t you dare stop.”


Straddling one thigh, Imai came in close, tilting Sakurai’s head back slightly as he kissed him, soft and slow. Waiting for Sakurai’s mouth to part open in response, he moved to suck on his lower lip, taking in the soft sighs that escaped as he did. Feeling Sakurai slump slightly however, Imai picked back up the rope tied to his neck, tugging at it until he brought himself back to sitting up straight.

With his free hand, Imai gently kneaded the base of Sakurai’s neck as he pushed to deepen their kiss before he broke away. Sakurai let out a short pant and Imai laughed, incredibly amused by how this scenario was affecting him. He trailed his hand down the rope harness, fingers tracing patterns on Sakurai’s skin where the rope met. Casually, he ran past one of Sakurai’s nipples, idly flicking it as he moved on to skin further below. Now feeling frustrated by his bondage, Sakurai became more vocal, almost grunting when Imai brushed over places he craved to push against his hand but was unable to. As Imai came back up for a kiss while massaging into his sides Sakurai stifled a cry when his hands held still behind his back instead of reaching up to embrace Imai as he wanted. It was just enough for Imai to hear however, and he pulled away, a smile stretching on his lips.


Setting his hands to rest on the tops of Sakurai’s thighs, which had been held apart, Imai looked Sakurai in the eyes again as he brought himself down. Lower, and lower, letting his chin push down along skin and rope as he kept Sakurai in sight, finally settling above a warm bulge in Sakurai’s boxers.

Sakurai struggled to look down at Imai, peering down his nose until he blinked furiously from the cross-eyed sensation it gave him. Not being able to see what Imai was about to do, nor use his hands to figure out, Sakurai’s breathing grew heavy, and unnoticed by Imai himself.

With his chin still resting over Sakurai’s erection, Imai playfully teased him by rocking his head side to side, tongue licking along Sakurai’s abdomen as he did. He could feel the muscles tense and shake as he did, and watched as Sakurai’s chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.


“What’s wrong Acchan?” Imai questioned, despite knowing the answer.

Sakurai let out a soft noise of frustration in return, but Imai was only interested in getting the answer he knew directly from the man.

“Oh, I know,” he sang as he rose back up into Sakurai’s view, “You want to stop, don’t you?”


Watching Sakurai’s face twist up in a stubborn refusal to give Imai what he wanted gave Imai a pang of arousal himself. Lips red from biting down on them himself, eyebrows furrowed deeply as his eyes were screwed shut. Things Imai always took pleasure in knowing he could cause in him.


“Atsushi,” he continued in his sing-song manner, “You’ve gotta be a good boy and tell me what you want. Please? I just want to hear you say it.”


Sakurai yelped as the rope around his neck tugged harder than he expected as he tried to buck his hips to pantomime his desires instead. Imai’s tsks were more infuriating to him than just being teased was.

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “I want you to make me come Imai! Please!”


Frustrated cries were met by Imai lowering himself back down to Sakurai’s lap. His erection was even more strained now Imai noticed, the lone button in the fly trying to keep it under wraps in vain. He nuzzled against the fabric, shuffling it until the head of Sakurai’s erection poked out from the fly. Driven by the urge to tease Sakurai to pieces, Imai kept his hands firm on either thigh as he let his tongue dart out in prodding licks. In response, Sakurai’s legs trembled as he made soft breathless pleas for more.


Imai rewarded Sakurai’s use of his words by undoing the button and allowing him to spring free. He licked his lips at the sight of Sakurai’s erection before opening his mouth to take it in, as far back as he could.

Feeling Imai surround his dick with his mouth, Sakurai let out a cry as Imai’s gag reflex rubbed up against his tip. He wanted to thrust so badly, but knew he was helpless to the situation.

Slowly, Imai pulled off, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he did. He stopped at the head of his erection, sucking and running his tongue to push back foreskin, pleased by the sounds coming from Sakurai above.

Imai then began to bob at a lazy pace, jaw loose as he flattened his tongue against Sakurai’s length before finally pushing him in past his gag reflex and into the back of his throat. Imai continued this pattern, occasionally changing pace as Sakurai whimpered and pled, trying to hold off his orgasm until Imai was satisfied with his work.


Finally, Imai felt a rush of bitter saltiness coat his mouth as Sakurai cried out ecstatically, body tense and shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.

Pulling away, Imai rose up to hold Sakurai in his arms until his body relaxed before moving him to sit up against the headboard to allow the restraint to slacken. Sakurai focused on steadying his breathing as Imai once again untied him, making small hums of impressiveness as he did.

Once he was untied, Sakurai slid down into his bed with a sigh of contentment, motioning for Imai to join him. Instead, Imai sat down beside him, holding Sakurai’s hand in his as he massaged the indents that being tied up for so long had left behind.  


“Ah, you know what Imai?” The other man grunted affirmatively. “I think… I think we need to practice this more before it looks nice enough for on stage.”

Chapter Text

Issay had expected to see Atsushi's face in the back of the crowd. He had expected Atsushi to come backstage, to head out for drinks and supper with him after the show. But he didn't expect the furtive touches from Atsushi, fingers brushing over his leather pants ever so often. Neither did he expect Atsushi to be dropping hints all over the place, casting suggestive gazes at him as they got increasingly intoxicated on alcohol. These weren't things to expect, not ever since Atsushi mentioned his marriage.

Yet, when Atsushi suggested continuing their drinking back at Issay's place, for some unknown reason, Issay agreed to it. Perhaps he missed the younger man much more than he'd thought. They have barely met since Atsushi's new relationship status, after all. After all of that though, having Atsushi in his lap, stripped down to his underwear, kissing him while gyrating his hips to some unknown rhythm was somewhat expected. Why else would Atsushi suggest moving to his place?

Fingertips pressing into Atsushi's hips, Issay silently contemplated if he should stop things where they were. It didn't feel right. Atsushi should be focused on being a good husband and father instead of fooling around with him here. Putting a hand on the back of Atsushi's neck, Issay gently massaged his muscles with firm kneads, quietly considering how to best let Atsushi down.

Atsushi moaned and bucked his hips in response to Issay’s massaging, leaning close as he pressed his erection against Issay's. Sucking in a sharp breath, Issay tightened his grip on Atsushi and shifted, grunting slightly under his weight. With all the movement and the blood rushing to his groin, the heat that has been building in Issay's leather pants was getting rather unbearable. His desire to rid himself of the clothing was almost strong enough to override the rational part of his mind that stood adamantly against this.

Atsushi, however, seemed to enjoy the feeling of the restrictive material stretched tight over Issay legs. Pulling his knees together, Atsushi leaned back, leaving on hand on Issay's shoulder as he rocked his hips and rubbed the back of his thighs against the material. He could feel Issay's hand tracing his spine, as he moved down Atsushi's back. But despite how much Issay's erection strained against the leather, pushing against it, Atsushi could sense that Issay was holding back.

Sliding off his seat, Atsushi dragged his hand across Issay's hips, causally brushing over his erection with light touches as he moved to stand behind the dining chair that Issay sat in. Atsushi smiled to himself as his observant eyes noticed a slight crinkling of Issay's eyes and a swallow in response to his touches. From the back, Atsushi put his hands on Issay's shoulders and slowly slid them down his chest, across his stomach, and back to his leather-bound thighs. Massaging the warm, tense muscles, Atsushi nuzzled against Issay's ear, warm breath tickling his skin as Atsushi whispered his name.

Eyes closed, Issay instinctively tilted his head away with the subconscious intention to create some distance between them. He heard Atsushi’s low chuckle of amusement, a familiar sound that drew him back towards Atsushi. Bringing a hand up, Issay caressed Atsushi’s cheek, sliding to the back of Atsushi’s neck as he leaned his head back against Atsushi’s shoulder. Atsushi’s lips brushed against Issay’s exposed neck, trailing light kisses as his right hand began to creep under Issay’s already half-open, black button-down to reach his bare skin.

As Atsushi traced the bulge of Issay's erection straining against the leather with his left hand, Issay felt his insides flutter against the uncomfortable tightness that wrapped his nether regions. He groaned and shifted, still trying to keep in mind that Atsushi shouldn't be here.

“Acchan…” Issay breathed. “You should…” Go home . As Issay mentally finished his sentence, he grimaced at his inability to put his thoughts to words.

Atsushi hummed, curious as to what Issay meant to say. Before he could ask, Issay's hands clasped over his, removing his hands from his body with firm grasps. “Acchan, I…”

“What's wrong?” Atsushi asked, pulling back as Issay began to stand.

“I need to cool off,” Issay muttered quickly, hastily making a beeline for his bathroom without looking at Atsushi.

Undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt, Issay tore it off and tossed it aside as he walked, venting his frustration. He could hear Atsushi’s hurried footsteps padding after him, following him. Issay’s frown deepened. Tensing his jaw, he unbuckled his pants and peeled them off roughly, finally ridding himself of the warm, restrictive material as he kicked it away while stepping through the door into the bathroom.

“Issay?” called Atsushi, concern apparent in his voice.

“Don’t!” Issay muttered fiercely, putting up an index finger in Atsushi’s direction in an attempt to stop him.

Needless to say, Atsushi was undeterred. As Issay picked up the shower head and started dousing himself with ice-cold water, he heard the bathroom door shut behind him. Drenching his hair, Issay raked his hand through his hair, shoving it back. Dropping down to sit on the bath stool, Issay pressed the shower nozzle against the top of his head as he rested his forehead on the heel of his palm, his elbow propped up on a knee. After a moment, he felt Atsushi’s warm embrace envelop him, holding him tight from behind while his body trembled from the cold.


“Acchan, let me go,” Issay muttered, eyes shut against the running water that flowed into his eyes.

“I missed you,” Atsushi whispered. “A lot,” he added, his voice now barely a whisper.

“Acchan, go home-” Issay suddenly felt himself moving. Holding the shower head away, Issay snapped his bewildered gaze to Atsushi who grabbed hold of his chair, forcefully turning him around to face him.

As Issay slid himself off the chair and onto the floor, Atsushi cornered him against the wall that bordered the bathtub and blurted, “We separated.”

Issay stared wide-eyed into Atsushi’s intense gaze as his brain tried to comprehend what Atsushi just said. He blinked, opening and closing his mouth several times as if to say something, but nothing came out. Blinking a couple more times, Issay glanced at the running water and turned the tap off, stalling for time to think properly.

“Acchan, you…” Issay started then paused. A thought crossed his mind and he furrowed his brows, upset. What if… “Acchan… you can’t just say things like just because-”

“It’s official,” Atsushi interrupted, keeping his unchanging stare on Issay. “Issay, the news comes out tomorrow. It’s official.”

Atsushi watched Issay’s expression turn apologetic, sorry, then brighten up with a spark of hope before dimming back down to regret. Issay looked away. What was he supposed to say?

“I… couldn't do it after all…” Atsushi muttered, his eyes downcast.

Issay sighed. Staring up at the ceiling, Issay clasped a hand around the nape of Atsushi's neck and pulled him close, letting him nuzzle in the crook of his neck as he mumbled, “Acchan, you're an idiot."

“I know,” Atsushi whispered quietly.

Issay felt Atsushi’s creep onto his knee, pausing for a moment before daring to slide down his thigh to the curve of his hip joint, palm settling near his crotch. As Atsushi finally made a move to shyly look up at Issay, he leaned in close, meeting Atsushi’s lips with his in a soft kiss. All at once, Atsushi grew bolder. Sitting up while they kissed deeply, Atsushi wrapped an arm around Issay’s waist and caressed his cool damp skin as he pinned Issay to the low wall.

Without much leverage while seated on the cold wet floor, Issay let Atsushi take the lead, letting out a long shaky breath as Atsushi pressed their bodies together. Eyes shut, Issay found himself focusing on Atsushi’s touches. The light caresses and firm grips on his body coupled with Atsushi pressing their hips together made Issay moan. Coiling his arms around Atsushi, his fingers struggled to get a grip on Atsushi until Issay dug his fingers in.

Atsushi let out a hissing sigh in response, sliding one hand down Issay’s wet body to curl his fingers around his erection. Twisting his wrist, Atsushi stroked Issay with languid movements, making Issay suck in sharp breaths as Atsushi’s fingers intermittently applied pressure around his frenulum. As Atsushi’s lips moved lower to suck his neck, Issay bucked his hips and moaned, tilting his head back against the tiled wall. With one hand around Issay’s erection, Atsushi brought his other hand lower, pressing a knuckle against Issay’s perineum as a finger began to rub and tease his entrance.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” Issay muttered quickly, pushing against Atsushi’s forearm as he grimaced.

Atsushi paused and drew back, suddenly worried. “What is it?”

“Lube, please,” Issay said, pointing to the collection of bottles on the shower rack nearby. “I still have a show tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Atsushi turned and stared at the assortment. “Um…”

“I can get it myself if you’d let me,” Issay muttered, bumping against Atsushi’s shoulder with his.

“Oh, right,” Atsushi mumbled. Shifting a little further back and settling down in a kneel, he gave Issay space to reach over to the rack as he stared at his legs, sheepish over his own flustering.

Reverting to his original position with a grunt, Issay hooked an arm around Atsushi’s neck, and muttered, “Come here”, pulling him close to lock lips with him again.

With his tongue in Issay’s mouth, Atsushi could taste traces of alcohol and cigarettes as they kissed, savouring the familiarity. Feeling Issay push something into his hand, Atsushi grasped it and cracked his eyes open. Glancing down, he saw that it was the bottle of lube.

Issay felt the bottle getting taken away. A moment after hearing the bottle click open, he felt Atsushi’s embrace tighten followed by a cool sensation down low. Atsushi’s fingers prodded around again, bringing flutters into Issay as he kneaded the sensitive skin.

Despite that the first finger slid in easily enough, without much resistance, Issay still arched his back in response, his body enjoying the sensations. It didn't take long before Atsushi added another finger into Issay, this time curling and pressing his fingertips against the walls, stretching Issay.

As Atsushi's warm breath ghosted over Issay's collarbone with light tender kisses, Issay's breathing grew short, turning rapid from Atsushi's finger stirring him up on the inside. He dug his fingers into Atsushi's shoulder, hugging him tighter with his other arm as a groan escaped his lips with the introduction of the third finger. When Atsushi curled all three fingers, Issay jerked his hips again, tossing his head back with a moan that turned into a grunt as the back of his head struck the wall.

Issay almost swore, embarrassed at being so affected while Atsushi chuckled, his lips breaking into a smile as he kissed Issay's neck. Bringing a hand up, Atsushi held the back of Issay's head in his palm, shielding him from the wall. Even as he huffed in indignation, Issay felt himself smile from Atsushi's care.

As Issay relaxed his body into Atsushi's embrace, releasing his apprehension, Atsushi withdrew his fingers. With one hand, he dispensed more lube onto himself, stroking his erection a few times to coat thoroughly. Exchanging a glance with Issay, Atsushi acknowledged Issay's subtle nod and positioned himself, carefully easing himself into Issay.

The stretch made Issay wrinkle his nose and scrunch up his features, tensing up for a moment before letting his body lean back into Atsushi's arm with a blissful sigh. Holding Issay in one arm while pressing a palm to the wall behind Issay, Atsushi started thrusting his hips, relishing the feeling of being in Issay once again.

Issay's voice escaped his lips in soft moans and groans, eyes unfocused as he rocked in tandem with Atsushi's thrusts. Atsushi arms curled tighter around his body, pressing their bodies together as Atsushi kissed him again.

In the humidity of the bathroom, the heat from their bodies and the dampness that stuck to their skin would have normally been unbearable, but neither man could be bothered with it, feeling the contrast of the cool lubricant smeared messily over their groins. Adjusting his hold, Atsushi freed a hand and brought it between their bodies. As Atsushi's rubbed his palm over Issay's glans, Issay's body suddenly spasmed with a jolt and a low, drawn-out moan rasped from his throat.

Bending forward, Issay pressed his forehead against Atsushi's and closed his hand over his own erection as well. Hazy eyes staring into Atsushi’s, Issay jerked himself off together with him, stroking himself to the rhythm of Atsushi's thrusting.

With Atsushi's thrusting growing vigorous, so did their stroking as well. The pleasure going to his head, Issay tossed his head back again, into Atsushi's other hand as he groaned from the stimulation. Within moments, Issay felt his groin grow tight, squeezing his insides before he came and ejaculated onto Atsushi's stomach. Atsushi, too, let out a cry, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled out of Issay and came on him in creamy, white ribbons.

Panting, they leaned against each other, taking a moment to catch their breath as they gradually came down from their high. As Atsushi buried his face in Issay's shoulder, Issay blindly groped around nearby until he found the shower nozzle. Turning the tap on, he blasted the cold water at Atsushi, making him yelp in shock.

Locking Atsushi in place with one arm, Issay hosed the cum off his body as he asked, “You’re not lying to me about that ‘separation’ thing, are you?”

“No!” Atsushi exclaimed, clinging to Issay, desperate for warmth. “I’m not-!”

“Weren’t you the one saying that marriage should be a lifetime commitment?” Issay asked, spraying the jet of water at Atsushi again.

“Yes! But- No! I mean,” Atsushi sputtered, trying to keep the splashes of water from hitting his eyes. “I tried!” he wailed. “I really did!”

Shaking his head and raking his fingers back through his hair, Atsushi tried to get his wet locks out of his face and deflect the water at the same time. Out of nowhere, he felt Issay’s hand grab his forearm and tug, pulling Atsushi down into his lap. Trapped in Issay’s embrace, Atsushi couldn’t run when Issay blasted another jet of water at his lower abdomen, laughing as Atsushi yelped again and jerked away.

Pulling him close, Issay cuddled a distraught Atsushi in his arms, planting kisses all over his face before a final kiss on the lips. As Atsushi stilled, Issay slowly broke away, giving him a soft smile as he said, “I believe you.”

Atsushi suddenly surged up, arms wrapped tight around Issay as he buried his face in his shoulder again. Caught off guard, Issay froze for a moment, slowly hugging Atsushi back as he tried to understand Atsushi’s actions. Before he could ask though, a whisper came from Atsushi. “Thank you.”

Issay huffed, patting Atsushi’s head as his lips tugged into a smile. Was that all?

“And… I’m sorry.”

That made Issay do a mental double-take. “For what…?” What did he do now?

“For… keeping my distance during these months,” Atsushi muttered.

Issay breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t another bombshell.

“I must’ve hurt-”

“Ah, well, it’s over now, isn’t it,” Issay cut in. “What’s important is that you’re here now…”

As Issay’s words trailed off, Atsushi turned his gaze up at Issay, an unreadable expression on his face. Meeting Atsushi’s stare, Issay couldn’t help but smile at the younger man.

Atsushi crinkled his eyes back in response, mirth returning into his eyes. “Tadaima.”


Chapter Text

“Ima~i! Come on, I’m sorry already!”


Sakurai groaned as he felt the weight of Imai’s heavy leather Engineer boot pushing down against the small of his back.


Earlier that day, Imai had called Sakurai up, excited about some new music he’d composed that he wanted his input on.

“Can’t we do it tomorrow?” Sakurai remembered saying in response. “I just picked up Issay’s new album and I want to spend the day listening to it.”


Now, kneeling bare naked on the floor of his house, trying to hold his back straight as Imai sat on his sofa and crossed his heels onto him like a human footstool, Sakurai was staring at his hands underneath him, regretting his choice of words.


“Acchan, Acchan, Acchan,” Imai clucked his tongue as he leaned back into the sofa, rocking Sakurai from side to side with his feet, “I know we like to keep it honest but really , some things are better left unsaid.”


Sakurai was so annoyed by Imai’s haughty demeanor that he wanted to just spring up and shake him. Which is probably why Imai had brought rope to tie him up with. He hated when Imai could guess his potential moves like this. With his hands and knees tied to each other in sort of a hogtie fashion, Sakurai was resigned to give in to whatever demands Imai made this evening.

He sighed deeply.

“I really am sorry Hisashi. I shouldn’t have been so glib, I was just so excited about the album…”


“Excited enough to put a delay in your own? I’m sure even he’d be disappointed to hear that.”


“Ah… Please. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you,” Sakurai pleaded, head still hanging down in shame so that he was unable to see the crooked grin forming on Imai’s face in response until he felt a boot press into his side, toppling him like a flimsy block house.

Still smiling, Imai placed his feet firmly on the ground, legs spread wide open as he stared down at Sakurai, laughing as he struggled and squirmed.


“I think you know exactly what you need to do.” Imai tilted his head back against the sofa, arms rising up to stretch across the top of it as well.

Fortunately, Imai had tied Sakurai’s wrists and knees together by a length of rope connecting the two bindings, not enough for him to stand but enough crawl feebly on his side. Grunting as he struggled to move towards the sofa, Sakurai stopped in front of Imai’s feet and looked up at him. Imai met his gaze and merely nodded before edging one boot toe closer to Sakurai’s face.


Still on his side, Sakurai continued to look at Imai with one eye as he opened his mouth wide, letting his tongue roll out with a flourish before licking a stripe up the toe of Imai’s boot. The leather of the boots was a standard black with a dull shine that brightened where Sakurai’s saliva coated and pooled on it with each flick of his tongue.

Gently, Imai lifted the boot at Sakurai’s face and rubbed it against his cheek as if he was caressing him with his hand. As Sakurai leaned in to the touch, his sticky spit transferred to his face as Imai ran the top of his boot under his chin with a satisfied noise.


“You know, I don’t think you’re sorry at all,” Imai shifted his weight to the foot that was still on the floor and stood up, towering over Sakurai as he continued to rub his other foot against his chin. Without warning, Imai placed that same foot on Sakurai’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back as he pinned him down.

“I mean look,” Imai gestured down at Sakurai as they locked eyes, “I’m over here trying to punish you for being an inconsiderate jerk, and you’re getting hard , like a slutty inconsiderate jerk!”

Sakurai tried to look away, but Imai simply pushed down harder on his shoulder until he looked back up at him.

“You’re just a complete and total slut, aren’t you Acchan?” He pushed down again, making Sakurai yelp, “I said, aren’t you Acchan?”


Sakurai closed his eyes and moaned. Of course the idea of Imai having his way with him as ‘punishment’ while he was tied up was a turn on, but did he really have to say it?

“Ah, I am…”


“You’re what ?” The heel dug in more, making Sakurai wince.


“I’m a slut. I’m a slut!” Sakurai yelled as Imai took to shaking him with his boot, “Please Maimai, fuck me! Fuck my ass so hard I don’t remember that damn CD!”

Imai looked down at Sakurai, slightly surprised. He wasn’t expecting such a reaction so early, but he couldn’t deliver on what was being asked of him right now, at least not until he had his fun too.


Imai pushed down on Sakurai’s shoulder one last time before taking it off him completely. He was mildly disappointed to not see the marks of his sole, but he knew the amount of force that would have taken could have definitely injured Sakurai. As he stepped back some, Sakurai’s eyes lit up with indignation, thinking Imai was planning on walking away to torture him further. However, as Imai instead ran his boot down the side of Sakurai’s body, moving closer to his hips, a spark of desire took over. He whimpered as Imai’s boot trailed up his rear, which was fully exposed as he lay on his back with his legs bent into the air. He felt Imai lightly tap against the soft flesh of his ass and gasped.

“I’ve still gotta punish you somehow Acchan, it’s only fair y’know.” Imai scraped his boot up the back of Sakurai’s thigh, watching him screw his eyes shut in anticipation. Pulling his foot away, he chuckled as he could see Sakurai suck in his breath, attempting to brace himself. So when Sakurai let out a noise in confusion as he instead tipped him onto his side once again, Imai let out a loud belly laugh before firmly kicking the heel of his boot into the round swell of Sakurai’s ass.

Picking his foot back up, Imai kicked him again, this time rewarded by a yelp of pain. He continued to kick at Sakurai, making sure that his heel met his skin flatly on impact but increasing the force slightly each time. Soon, yelps of pain turned into shouts turned into cries of pleasure as the strikes against his skin bloomed into a heat of arousal between his legs. Sakurai wanted to grab onto something, but only clicked his nails uselessly against the floor, unable to grab purchase.


“I-Imai!” Sakurai struggled to speak but needed to, “God, please, I need to feel you in me, fuck me already!”

In return, Imai gave him one last hard kick before he sat down beside Sakurai, caressing red bootprint he’d left on his pale flesh.


“You need to feel me in you eh?” Imai sucked wetly on a finger, “I’m over here, beating the shit out of you, and it makes you horny ?”


“I can’t help it, you turn me on so much when you’re being domi-- Ah!” Sakurai was cut off by the sensation of Imai pressing into his anus, pushing a finger straight in before bending it to curl into his prostate, making the rest of his sentence unintelligible.

Imai set into a motion of pushing and pulling out his finger, twisting it in and out as he did. Sakurai pressed his face into the floor, desperate to push himself back against Imai’s finger. When Imai saw his hips move he smirked and pulled his finger out, taking in Sakurai’s whines as he did before he spit loudly into Sakurai’s entrance, this time returning with an extra finger.

“No,” Sakurai moaned as he continued rocking back into Imai’s hand.


“No what Acchan? You’ve got me in you… Or did you mean something else?” His eyes crinkled into a smile as Sakurai was too busy pushing against his fingers to speak.


“Fuck,” he hissed, struggling to form his words, “I want… I want… I want your cock!” Sakurai moaned loudly, “Fill my ass with it please!”

Rewarding Sakurai, Imai roughly rubbed his fingers into his prostate in rapid succession, listening to his euphoric cries as he felt Sakurai desperately trying to fuck himself against his hand as he was brought closer to his orgasm. Instead of stopping, Imai held his fingers firm inside of Sakurai as he brought him to kneel again, this time with his ass sticking straight up in the air as his face pushed into the floor. Sakurai thrashed wildly, leaving Imai to grip into him with his freehand as he pushed harder into Sakurai, making him shout out in euphoria as he ejaculated onto his thighs. Imai pulled his hand away, swatting at Sakurai playfully as the man struggled to catch his breath.

Reaching down, Imai tugged at the rope until a knot came loose, freeing Sakurai’s hands but leaving his knees bound. With a heavy sigh of relief, Sakurai slid down flat on his belly, arms supporting his head as he listened to Imai rustle with his clothing.

“Imai no more, I can’t.” Sakurai felt Imai’s erection rest against his ass, and despite his exhaustion he found himself rocking into it.


“That’s not what that slutty ass of yours is saying,” Imai pushed himself in with minimal resistance as Sakurai laid out loose in his entire body, “Mmm yeah, moan more Acchan, I knew you needed this.”


In the middle of the euphoric high of his orgasm, Sakurai found it strangely easy to keep his mind focused despite the pleasurable sensation of Imai fucking him with abandon, and urged him on.

“I did need it. Ah, god you feel so good, so good. I want to feel you come in me Maimai. Come deep in me Maimai.”


Imai held Sakurai’s hips down firmer rocking himself in and out with an easy motion as he felt Sakurai relax and contract all around him, coaxing him into orgasm as Imai let out a breathless sigh.

Once they had both cleaned up one another, and the floor, Imai sat on the sofa with a beer he’d grabbed from Sakurai’s fridge while the other man redressed.


“Alright Imai,” Sakurai said as he plopped down next to Imai, taking the beer for a drink himself, “So show me this amazing music that I just had to hear.”


Imai brought the beer back up to his mouth, muttering something quickly before taking a drink.


“What was that Maimai?” Sakurai’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.


“Ah well… You see,” Imai fumbled for words, “I was kind of… So pissed off that…”




Imai gulped. “... That I rushed over here without the recording.”


“Imai!” Sakurai rose up from the sofa, “You fucking!!”


Before Sakurai could connect with his swing, Imai ducked, jumping off the couch as he ran for the door.

Chapter Text

Sakurai leaned back into the soft pillows of the bed and let out a soft sigh of relaxation. Straddled over him was Imai, who was making his way down unbuttoning Sakurai’s shirt, trailing knuckles along his chest as it was exposed.


It was one of those rare moments where there was leisurely time between the two, and they intended to enjoy every last second of it. Their movements were slow and lingering, languid kisses and fingertips reading every last inch of skin like a message in braille.


Once his fingers worked the final button open, Imai slid against Sakurai’s warm, soft chest as he went to nuzzle against his neck. Sakurai laughed from the ticklish sensation of Imai’s breathing on his skin and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

Imai kissed a trail underneath Sakurai’s chin as he made his way to capture his mouth again, holding Sakurai’s bottom lip in his teeth as he playfully tugged before moving into a lazy open kiss.


His hands cradling Sakurai’s head, he closed his eyes and broke off the kiss with sounds of satisfaction, bumping their noses together as Sakurai ran his hands up and down his back, pushing his t-shirt up as he did. Imai kissed Sakurai one more time before he sat up to pull off his shirt. Freed from that, he grinned as Sakurai stroked his sides, jerking back with a short laugh as his fingers grazed the more sensitive skin under his arms.

Taking Sakurai’s hands into his own, Imai brought them up to his face, kissing each knuckle tenderly as he looked down at the man laying underneath him.


Letting go, Imai moved back and climbed off the bed to take off his pants, underwear and all, watching as Sakurai did the same while still lying in bed. Both fully disrobed, Imai didn’t move, instead he idly stroked himself as he mentally captured the image of Sakurai in bed, patiently waiting for his lover.


With a finger, Sakurai beckoned Imai back, playfully laughing as Imai pounced on him with a silly growl. Hands were everywhere, touching every expanse of skin they could reach, and the two men filled the room with the sound of their laughter and pleasure. They rolled across the bed together, taking turns pinning the other down gently before unleashing a barrage of kisses, soft moans escaping their locked lips as their erections touched and rubbed up against one another.

Soon, they found themselves aching for more, hips thrusting and rolling as their sighs grew more passionate. One more time, Imai moved away, reaching into a nightstand drawer before returning to his place with Sakurai.


Nestling in between Sakurai’s legs, Imai set down one of the items he had retrieved, a gently curved, vaguely phallic-shaped vibrator, before opening the lube he’d brought as well, squeezing it out across his fingers.

Imai was determined not to rush, slowly running his coated fingers back and forth between Sakurai's cheeks, gently pressing against his entrance each time he passed over it.

The teasing was becoming nearly unbearable to Sakurai, who turned his head to one side, pushing into the pillow with a stretched out moan of Imai's name.


Eventually, Imai slid a finger inside, humming in delight as Sakurai's body offered little resistance. He was careful not to overstimulate Sakurai, as he only wanted to prepare him for the toy tossed off to their side. Slowly, he worked him open, adding another finger to help stretch him with a scissoring motion, looking down in admiration as Sakurai's chest rose and fell in response to Imai’s touch. Adding one last finger, Imai turned his palm up, pushing into him before pulling his fingers out completely.


Picking up the vibrator by the handle on its end, Imai first ran it down the inside of Sakurai's thigh, bringing it lower and lower until it pushed into Sakurai.


Leaving it there, motionless, Imai picked up the lube again and moved to straddle Sakurai's waist again. He watched as Sakurai, slightly dazed in his arousal, reached out to take the bottle from his hands. Cold, slippery fingers reached in behind him, reciprocating the attention he'd given Sakurai.

Face to face this time, Imai leaned down to kiss Sakurai as he felt his fingers caressing him from within, grunts and moans escaping as their tongues reached out to taste every possible inch of their mouths. Feeling ready, Imai pulled away from Sakurai's kiss, straightening up as Sakurai pulled out.


Reaching back, Imai pushed the button on the handle of the vibrator and felt Sakurai jerk slightly at the feel of it beginning to move in him. Now steadying the base of Sakurai's erection, Imai picked his hips up before lowering himself onto it with a slight hiss.

Together, the two men rocked slowly in tandem, drinking in the sensation of having the other in and around themselves. Pleasurable moans echoed as they kept a deliberately slow pace toward their shared extacy.


Little by little, their pace quickened and their rhythm grew unsteady as they neared their climax. Imai threw his head back as Sakurai reached out to stroke him, soft Acchan's leaving his lips like a holy mantra.

As Sakurai felt his body tense in orgasm he thrusted up into Imai, letting out a cry of joy as he came inside.

Riding Sakurai while he was still hard as Sakurai continued to pump him, it wasn't long before Imai joined him in euphoria, hips bucking as he gasped to catch his breath.


Slowing himself down, Imai gingerly separated himself from Sakurai, the two men groaning at the loss of physical contact with the other as Imai rolled off him and onto his back on the bed beside him.

Reaching down, Sakurai turned off the vibrator, too tired to care that it was still inside him. Turning his head he looked at Imai, hair clinging to his flushed face by sweat as his chest heaved to his deep breaths. He rolled onto his side and draped an arm over him, the physical high and feel of his lover in his arms drifting him peacefully to rest.

Realized that Sakurai had fallen asleep, Imai chuckled before relaxing into his own slumber as well.


It was only the early afternoon, but to them today, time held no control over them.

Chapter Text

Fingers deftly undoing the button on his black jeans, Sakurai tugged the zip down its short track and eased his rear out of the hugging material. Sakurai then put his hands on his thighs, firmly gripping and sliding them down his legs to push the rest of his jeans off. With his legs now bare, Sakurai sat down, thigh-high stockings bunched up in his hands as he leaned forward and put the delicate fabric over his toes.

Watching Sakurai carefully adjust the stretchy material as he slipped them on, Yagi couldn't tell if he was being deliberate, sticking his legs out like that, or if that was his natural inclination. Clearing his throat, he crossed his legs and asked, “So how's this one?”

Sakurai stood up and posed in front of the full-length mirror in Yagi’s workroom, turning this way and that, rubbing his hands over his thighs, his black briefs… What the hell was that material? Yagi squinted as he eyed Sakurai's rear, trying to figure out the answer with his ageing eyes instead of touching it himself.

“Hm… With the garter belt, or without? … Yagi-san?” Sakurai turned around when no response came from Yagi. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Huh?” Yagi snapped out of his preoccupation, feeling heat rise to his face as he suddenly realised how it might've looked. “Ah, no, I was thinking about the material-”

“Is it no good?” Sakurai asked, turning back to the mirror as if nothing happened. Yagi could see him frown and purse his lips as he considered his ‘outfit’. “Do you think something else would be better?”

Yagi watched Sakurai put a leg up on the chair, smoothing his hand over the line that separated the stocking from his milky skin. Slipping his fingers under the elastic, Sakurai adjusted it, stretching it out slightly and letting it snap back onto his skin as it bit into his soft flesh. Sakurai huffed.

“You should probably try the garter,” Yagi suggested, tossing the band towards Sakurai.

Catching it, Sakurai bent over and slipped into the garterbelt, pulling it up to his hips before adjusting it again. As he clipped it to the elastic, Sakurai muttered, “Yagi-san, I don’t think these will work after all.”

“You liked the design though,” Yagi reminded.

Sakurai wrinkled his nose as he inspected his visage in the mirror. The plain black tee he had on did not match the garters and the stockings at all, but it would do for now. The focus of this meeting was the stockings after all. Sticking his fingers under the elastic again, Sakurai tugged lightly. It didn’t feel uncomfortable but it seemed to press too tightly against his skin. There were already indents left on his skin where the elastic squeezed.

Walking back towards Yagi, Sakurai propped his leg up next to Yagi on the couch. “Here, look,” Sakurai said, fingers going under the elastic again. Showing Yagi the marks left behind by the stockings, he said, “This is going to be an issue during the live. It’ll more likely slide down when I move and this will show.”

Yagi stared at the supple flesh of Sakurai’s thigh, now inches from his face. He blinked and swallowed, the proximity making him uncomfortable. “Uh…” Yagi began. Reaching a hand up towards Sakurai’s leg, he asked, “Don’t mind?”

Sakurai nodded, nonchalant.

Yagi tentatively put his hand on Sakurai’s thigh, smooth and soft, as observed. Turning his attention to the task at hand, Yagi traced his fingers over the edge where the elastic cuts into Sakurai’s skin, feeling the material. He hummed, quietly noting its texture. Pushing his fingers against Sakurai’s under-thigh, into the elastic where it cut the most, Yagi stretched it out, testing the tension of the elasticity. He hummed again as his brain cycled through his existing stock. As Yagi pulled his fingers out of the stockings, his hand brushed close to Sakurai’s crotch, but lost in his thoughts, Yagi barely noticed.

“There are a few others you can try, but they’re in the other room…” Yagi muttered, slowly pacing towards the door. “You wait here, I’ll go get them and you can tell me which one you prefer. Then we’ll work that into this design…” As Yagi spoke, seemingly to himself, he walked out of the door, chin in hand while remaining deep in thought.

“Um…” Sakurai attempted to speak up after Yagi but he went straight out and the door clicked shut. Pursing his lips, Sakurai sat down on the couch. All he could do was wait then.

Crossing his legs, Sakurai tapped his foot on the floor, picking at the stockings listlessly. He quickly got bored of it though. Looking around the workroom, he suddenly felt his eyes draw towards a pair of glossy black stilettos. He raised his brows. His shoes have always been heeled but stilettos… Would they be comfortable enough for the stage? Sakurai glanced down at his stockinged legs and back at the stilettos. Well, they’d match, without a doubt.

Walking over to the heels with quiet footsteps, Sakurai picked them up for a better look. The heels were about four inches high, not impossible to manage. Probably. He looked at the size number and raised his brows, humming in mild amusement as he noted that they were of his size.

Putting the shoes back on the ground, Sakurai slid his feet in and put them on with barely a wobble. It wasn’t as hard to balance as he thought it would’ve been. Standing up straight, Sakurai noticed a difference in his posture. As he moved back to the mirror, he could feel his hips swaying as his body naturally adapted to walking in heels. Standing before the mirror, Sakurai turned to the side and smirked. The accentuated curve in his spine made him push his chest out more and his rear stick out more prominently. He ran his hands along his silhouette, appreciating the pronounced curves of his body. Maybe this would finally faze Toll.

Sakurai took a few steps, pacing around in front of the mirror as he observed his movements. He could feel the ball of his foot starting to ache. If wearing the heels was going to hurt, it wouldn’t be suitable for the live then. Sakurai pursed his lips and huffed. Turning left and right, he continued staring at his reflection. They looked so good though… Perhaps it takes a little getting used to.

Glancing at the door, Sakurai went silent for a moment, ears pricked, thinking. It didn’t seem like Yagi was on his way back yet. Maybe he could grab a coffee from the vending machine in the corridor. But with his current outfit… Sakurai glanced into the mirror again. Changing back into his jeans would be troublesome. He’d still have to take them off again later to try the other samples Yagi was out getting. Sakurai scanned the room. If there was something he could use to just cover his legs with…

Looking at the selection on one of the racks, Sakurai noticed a simple, navy blue fabric. Sashaying over, Sakurai pulled it off the clothes rack and considered the yukata. Judging it by its length, it should work well enough. Sakurai took it off the hangar and put it on, tying the sash securely around his waist. He turned to the mirror and wrinkled his nose. The collar of his black tee could still be seen peeking out from under the yukata. Sucking on the inside of his cheek, he tried to think of a workaround.

An idea soon came to him. Humming, Sakurai retracted his arms from the sleeves, shrugging the top half off his shoulders to let it flop over the waist belt. He stared at the mirror again. He curled his lip. It wasn’t ideal but it looks better than before. At least the heels weren’t all that visible. Anyway, he would only take a moment. Retrieving the exact change for coffee from his wallet, Sakurai held the coins in his palm and walked out of the room.

The walk to the vending machine was uneventful enough. As company staff passed him, Sakurai gave them subtle nods of acknowledgement while quietly hoping that they didn’t notice how he was suddenly taller. Anyway, if anyone noticed, they gave no indication of it.

Upon arriving at the vending machine though, Sakurai found Imai standing in front of it, considering the options. He cocked his head to one side. Strange, he didn’t know Imai was coming today too. As Sakurai approached him, Imai noticed his presence and turned to him, jerking his head in a subtle greeting then frowning as he eyed Sakurai up and down. Sakurai kept a straight face, aware that Imai noticed something was off.

“What’s with the getup?” Imai asked, an arm folded across his chest as he scratch his chin with the other hand. “And since when did you grow taller?”

Sakurai simply chuckled, refusing to answer his questions. “I suppose you’re here to try out the live outfits too?”

Imai continued frowning, leaning back as his eyes continued darting up and down, suspicious.

“What?” Sakurai asked, trying to throw Imai off. “If you’re not going to buy anything then let me go first.”

“Sure,” Imai muttered, stepping aside as he continued staring at Sakurai.

“Ah… coffee’s sold out,” Sakurai griped.

When Sakurai moved closer to the vending machine, Imai cocked his head, hearing unusual sounding footsteps coming from him. Imai circled around Sakurai, raising a brow at the way he bent a little lower to insert the coins into the machine. Glancing down as the yukata hitched a scant bit higher from his movement, Imai spotted a pair of slim, stick-like heels. He smirked.

“Hisashi, do you have a ten yen coin to spare?” Sakurai asked. “I only brought enough for black coffee but…”

Imai inched to the front, leaning against the vending machine as he continued smirking.

Sakurai met his eyes. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Let me see,” Imai said.

“See what?”

Imai stuck his index finger out and brought it towards the opening of Sakurai’s yukata. Sakurai immediately slapped his hand away, eyes large with alarm.

Imai’s smirk widened. “I’ll give you your ten yen if you’ll let me see.”

“I’m not that cheap,” Sakurai clipped, reaching to the machine to press the eject button.

Imai stopped his hand. “A week’s worth of coffee.”


“Fine, a month.”

“I can afford my own coffee, thank you very much.”

“Drinks then.”

“I. Can. Afford. It.”

“I’ll buy you that cat condo your wife forbids you from getting.”

That made Sakurai pause. His eyes slowly shifted to meet Imai’s. “All of above,” he countered. “A month’s worth of coffee and drinks, plus the cat condo.”

“Deal,” Imai said without a moment’s hesitation. It was going to cost him but this should be worth it. He hoped.

“Ten yen first,” Sakurai demanded, putting out an open palm in front of Imai as he looked down at him with disdain.

Imai simply smirked and pressed the bronze coin into Sakurai’s palm. With a slight pout on his face, Sakurai turned back to the vending machine, ignoring Imai as he stuck a finger into the fabric fold at his crotch. Waiting for the machine to drop his can of milk coffee with his arms folded, Sakurai felt Imai lift the fabric away and peek under the yukata.

“Oh ho?” Imai chuckled, amused by what he saw. His eyes travelled from the top of Sakurai’s smooth thighs, to the garterbelt, to mid-thigh where the elastic pressed into his flesh, to the swirling patterns on the sheer fabric, down to the sleek stilettos that Sakurai wore. His eyes darting back to Sakurai’s crotch, Imai grinned. “Is the embarrassment getting you exci- Ow!”

Before Imai could say anything else, Sakurai smacked his hand away, bending down to pick up his coffee from the take-out port as a member of the company’s staff briskly walked past, occupied by whatever was on his phone screen. Casually leaning back against the side of the vending machine again, Imai schooled his expression and waited for the staff to disappear down the next bend. Sakurai stood up, cracking his can open with a loud pop as he walked away in the direction of Yagi’s workroom.

“Oy, at least wait for me!” Imai called after him.

Sakurai slowed down. After a number of clattering noises, a beep and a loud thump followed by more clatters, Imai’s brisk shuffling came up after Sakurai. Continuing on, Sakurai sipped his coffee in silence, suddenly eager to go back into the safety of the workroom.

“Are you really planning to dress like that for the live?” Imai asked.

“I haven’t decided.”

“If you’re going ahead with this, we might need paramedics on site,” Imai muttered.

“For your weak heart?” Sakurai teased, grinning.

Imai scoffed. “Fancy you saying that, when you’re so reluctant to show me what you’re wearing.”

“We’re in public,” Sakurai muttered, speaking stiffly with gritted teeth.

“Mhmm,” Imai hummed dismissively.

Coming to a stop in front of Yagi’s office, Sakurai put his hand on the doorknob and pulled… but it wouldn’t budge. Confused, he jiggled the knob and tried pulling a few more times in futility as worry started welling up.

“What’s wrong?” Imai asked, watching Sakurai’s increasingly frantic tugging. “Locked?”

“It’s not supposed to lock on it’s own, is it?” Sakurai asked, turning to Imai.

“Maybe they changed the system…?”

“Uh…?” An upset noise came out of Sakurai as he let go of the doorknob reluctantly. But why wasn't Yagi back yet? What was taking him so long?

“We could find somewhere to sit and wait,” Imai suggested, “instead of standing in front of the door like this.”

Sakurai frowned at Imai, pointedly darting his eyes down to his own lower half and then back to Imai's growing smirk.

“I just want to get a proper look at what the hell you're wearing,” Imai said.

“If we were anywhere else, I’d be fine with it,” Sakurai responded, exasperated. “Even Yagi-san's workroom is fine, as long as we have privacy-”

“I know a place,” Imai cut in.

Sakurai narrowed his eyes at Imai, suspicious. “I'm not using the bathroom-”

“Tch, it's not the bathroom, c'mon,” Imai retorted.

“Then, where?” Sakurai asked, still wary.

Imai smirked. “Come.”

Carelessly brushing his free hand past Sakurai's crotch, Imai brought his canned coffee to his lips and drank deeply, twitching his fingers as he gestured to Sakurai to follow. Without much option available at hand, Sakurai could only trail after Imai reluctantly, hoping that they might bump into Yagi on the way back.

No such luck though. In fact, they didn't even pass a single soul down the route that Imai led. Unusual, considering how busy the company was on a regular day. Imai turned a corner and Sakurai followed, entering a windowed dead-end. The window stretched from the floor to the ceiling, brightening up the quiet corridor despite the tinted UV filter on it. Slowing his pace, Imai stopped at the window and peered out, looking down at the street below. Approaching, Sakurai stood next to him and followed his line of sight. The main street was right below them. There were pedestrians walking around, cars going down the asphalt.

“So,” Imai began, “let me see.” He grinned at Sakurai.

This is where you had in mind?”

“No one ever comes here,” Imai shrugged, putting down his can of coffee and stepping closer.

“How’d you even know of this corner?” Sakurai asked, sceptical.

“Just happened to chance upon it when I was wondering around,” Imai muttered, mirth in his eyes as he smiled at Sakurai.

With one deft movement, Imai took Sakurai's coffee away, placing it on the floor before slipping a hand under Sakurai’s yukata again to stroke his bare thigh. Sakurai sucked in a breath in surprise and stepped back as he held Imai’s wrist in a firm grip, alarmed by Imai's brazenness. Imai’s other hand slipped in as well, pushing the fabric away to let the cold sunlight shine on Sakurai’s stockinged legs.

Sakurai tried to retreat further but found his back against the wall. Worried about being seen, he stared down the way that they came from, eyes wide with apprehension. “Hisashi, are you sure-”

“Of course,” Imai interrupted, pressing closer as his fingers traced the swirls on Sakurai’s stockings while running over his thighs.

“But the window…” Sakurai muttered, gradually turning breathless as his heart sped up from Imai’s teasing.

“Judging by the way you’ve been on stage,” Imai whispered into his ear, his hand squeezing firmly at Sakurai’s crotch, “you do like being watched, don’t you?”

Shuddering from Imai’s whispers, Sakurai arched his back with a soft whine, pressing his warming crotch into Imai’s hand.

“I don’t-” Sakurai was barely able to defend himself before he gasped again, caught off guard by Imai’s hand going under his briefs and squeezing his rear.

Guided by Imai’s gentle nudges, Sakurai found himself pressed to the warm window pane, forearms bracing against it as Imai held the fabric of his yukata away. Embarrassed and flustering, Sakurai turned his face away from the sight of the bustling street, staring at Imai with large eyes instead.

“Oh, I’m sure no one can see you,” Imai mused, speaking softly. “Us being so high up and with the window tinted. Though I can’t be all that sure.”

Sakurai tried to shake Imai’s hold off. “Hisashi!”

“You know, the more sudden movements you make the more likely it is that someone might look up,” Imai muttered, peering down at the passersby again. “ If they can see you,” he added under his breath.

Sakurai froze. Imai was right. As he stood still, he could feel Imai tugging at his waist belt, loosening the yukata and letting it fall to the ground. A soft gasp escaped Sakurai’s throat, now increasingly worried that someone might walk in on them from behind. Imai moved to stand behind him, curling a hand around his waist to reach down to his front. Fingers creeping under his briefs, Imai closed his hand over Sakurai’s growing erection, easing it out of his underwear.

A restrained moan sounded as Imai thumbed Sakurai’s glans. The embarrassment of having his genitals out on display to the world like this somehow added to Sakurai’s pleasure, making his cheeks tingle and his insides flutter. Whether these reactions were really due to shame or sexual stimulation, Sakurai could not tell. Perhaps it was both.

“I wonder,” Imai’s voice murmured into his ear as he began pumping his erection, “if our fans got to see you like this…”

Sakurai let out a short moan, mortified by the thought of it.

“If they were down there, looking up at you,” Imai continued.

Sakurai squeezed his eyes shut, moaning again as he felt the humiliation mesh together with the pleasure of Imai’s stroking. Erection twitching, Sakurai bucked his hips into Imai’s hand as he continued.

Imai grinned and pulled Sakurai backwards, away from the window. Pushing him up against the wall again, Imai paused his stroking and tugged Sakurai’s briefs lower. Curling his fingers, Imai briefly grasped Sakurai's scrotum, eliciting a grunt and a moan from him, before stroking his perineum and inching towards his entrance.

As Imai pressed a finger in, Sakurai leaned back against the wall, breathing growing short and heavy. Imai’s hand caressed Sakurai's rear, sliding lower to grip the back of his thigh before bringing his leg up. With his thigh pressed to his body, Sakurai’s knee hooked over Imai's shoulder while Imai thrust another finger into him.

“Well, aren't you flexible,” Imai remarked as Sakurai moaned in response.

Pulling his fingers out of Sakurai, Imai unzipped his own pants and unsheathed his erection, now twitching and excited by Sakurai's erotic visage. As he pushed his tip to Sakurai’s entrance, Sakurai moaned again, louder and now less inhibited than before. Putting a hand on Sakurai’s hip, Imai scratched at his garter belt as he slid in, groaning. Feeling Sakurai’s warm insides close around his erection, Imai let out a long sigh and began thrusting, easily pushing deep as Sakurai, overwhelmed by the amalgamation sensations and emotions, felt himself give in to the pleasure. His body relaxing, he relied on Imai, barely supporting himself on his one heeled foot still on the ground.

As he thrust, Imai kept his eyes on Sakurai’s lust-filled face, fueling his arousal with Sakurai’s expressions and noises. Wrapping an arm around Sakurai, Imai pulled him closer and buried his face in his neck, breathing in deep as he took in Sakurai’s familiar musk. Pressing a kiss to Sakurai’s skin, Imai muttered, “Why are you so… sexy ?”

Placing a hand on Imai for balance, Sakurai let out a whine and turned away again, growing bashful. When Imai’s hand closed around his erection again though, Sakurai moaned with renewed gusto, seemingly unbothered by how his voice echoed down the empty corridor. Closing his mouth over Sakurai’s, Imai initiated a kiss as he thrusted and stroked Sakurai, whose fingers now dug into Imai’s shoulder.

Kissing Imai back as he moaned, Sakurai bucked his hips and jerked to Imai’s thrusting, desperate for more. It didn’t matter to him that they could be found anymore. On the contrary, the thought of it seemed to tip Sakurai over the edge and an euphoric moan spilled from his lips as his twitching cock ejaculated in Imai’s hand. At the same moment, Imai pushed deep into Sakurai, groaning with the flush of heat the filled Sakurai.

As Imai slowly lowered Sakurai’s leg back down, Sakurai croaked, “Please tell me you have tissues in your pocket.”

Imai swallowed, staring vacantly at Sakurai’s soiled shirt. “I… did not think this through…” he muttered, earning himself a hard smack to the shoulder from Sakurai.


Yagi came back to his workroom to find Sakurai and Imai seated outside the door, each with a can of coffee in a hand. He frowned at them, Sakurai especially as he noted the yukata he wore and the black stilettos that sat next to him. As he went to the door, they noticed his return and began standing up.

Still frowning, Yagi looked Sakurai up and down, and asked Sakurai, “Why are you dressed like that and where’s your shirt?”

“I, uh… spilled coffee on it so…” Sakurai shrugged, shaking his almost empty can.

Yagi raised a brow, sceptical as he glanced back down at the stilettos that Sakurai now held by his fingers. “And those…?”

“Just curious if they would work for an outfit. They hurt too much to keep them on for a live though,” Sakurai explained.

“Right…” Yagi muttered.

Something didn’t feel right but Yagi just couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. Deciding to spend his energy thinking about how to make Sakurai’s stockings work instead, Yagi tossed his unease aside and pushed the door open, entering the room.

“Wait,” Sakurai suddenly blurted. “It’s not locked?”

Yagi turned and stared at him. “No…? Why would it be locked?”

“I couldn’t open it earlier!” Sakurai exclaimed.

“So that’s why you were squatting outside the door.”

“I kept pulling-”

“It’s push to open,” Yagi cut in. Stepping back out, he closed the door, and opened it again as he said, “ Push .”

Imai started snickering as he walked in, passing a frozen Sakurai with a chagrined look on his face. “Acchan, oh, Acchan,” Imai chuckled. “You’re so adorable.”

Sakurai’s grimaced only turned more sour at Imai’s words as he shuffled in wordlessly, closing the door behind him.

As he arranged his things, Yagi eyed the two of them with suspicion again. He still couldn’t tell what was off, but he made a mental note the he should probably avoid scheduling these two on the same day. It felt like it would only bring him more stress than they already did with their individual requests.

Chapter Text

Atsushi hurried back into the hotel lobby, escaping the strong winds and rain as he closed the umbrella. A typhoon had unfortunately struck while they were travelling on tour and all transportation services have been halted, resulting in their need to lay low in this old traditional-style hotel for a extra night. With nothing to do and nothing to drink, Atsushi braved the storm and made it back, drenched but in one piece, with an almost two litre bottle of shochu. Atsushi rubbed his hand over his goatee as smiled to himself, ascending the floors in the elevator, happy with successfully carrying out his little errand. Humming a light tune, Atsushi walked down the corridor to his room and went in.

“Hisashi~” called Atsushi.

“Where the hell did you go?!” Imai snapped, clutching his phone in his hand as stood in the centre of the room, his long hair a mess, as usual.

“I told you I was going to get this ,” Atsushi grinned, waving the paper bag with the shochu around.

“In this weather?!”

“Well, I made it back in one piece, right?” Atsushi countered, shrugging his damp outer coat off as he put the shochu on the tatami.

“You could get sick!” Imai seethed. “What are we supposed to do then?!”

“There’s no way I’m getting sick with shochu in my system,” Atsushi retorted. Opening the wardrobe, he took out a hangar and put his coat on it, leaving it outside to air.

Imai had his face in his hands as he groaned in frustration. “At least change out of your wet clothes, will you?”

“Only if you can make me,” Atsushi smirked.


“Play with me,” Atsushi said, picking up the glasses from the counter top. “Simply sitting around and drinking is boring anyway. So play with me,” he continued. “Loser takes a shot and strips a piece of clothing.”

Imai stared at him, deadpanned.

“Oh, come on,” Atsushi whined. “If you won’t play, I’m staying in these clothes.”

“What are you, blackmailing me? At your own expense?” Imai questioned, incredulous. As Atsushi continued looking at him with hopeful, pleading eyes, Imai finally cracked. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, “Argh, fine. It’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.”

A cheerful noise came from Atsushi as he got down on his knees and started setting up the low table. Putting the large bottle of shochu on the floor next to it, Atsushi set two clear glasses down on opposite sides of the table. He then retrieved three tea cups from the counter top, setting them upside down in between the two clear glasses. As he sat down, Atsushi reached into the front pocket of his jeans and took out a small, stuffed lucky cat phone charm.

“Where’d you get that from?” Imai asked, sitting down opposite Atsushi.

“I saw a gachapon machine with a series of stuffed cats at the shop so I got one,” Atsushi recounted.

“Hm, cute,” Imai remarked.

“Isn’t it?” Atsushi grinned.

“So what are we playing?” Imai asked, putting his elbow on the table to support his chin as he slouched.

“Kiku no Hana,” Atsushi announced. Picking up an upturned teacup, he put the stuffed cat under it and closed it back down, hiding the cat from view.

“One article of clothing per win then?” Imai asked.

“And,” Atsushi filled up the glasses a quarterway, “one shot.”

“Aren't you being lenient today,” Imai remarked, eyeing the shochu in the glasses.

“Who's going to drink with me if you get knocked out from the first glass?” Atsushi asked as his eyes crinkled in mirth.

Imai hummed. “I guess the others wouldn't accommodate you with your games anyway. I don't know why I do,” he muttered, eyes sliding to the side to look at Atsushi out of the corner of his eyes.

Atsushi didn't say anything, turning his attention back to the teacups as his smile grew wider. Fiddling with the delicate ceramic handle, Atsushi asked, “So, do you want to shuffle it around, or shall I?”

“You do it,” Imai decided. Adjusting his posture, Imai sat up and folded his arms on the table, watching Atsushi’s movements intently.

Atsushi shifted the cups around, switching positions, moving around and back, then stopped. With open palms, he invited Imai to pick a cup. Imai opened the middle cup… and there the cat was.

Atsushi smiled and picked up his glass. “Nicely done,” he commented, downing the alcohol. Setting the glass back down, Atsushi refilled it and asked, “So what comes off?”

Imai hummed, his eyes looking Atsushi up and down as he made his choice. “Your sweater isn’t damp, is it?”

“Hm? Why don’t you tell me?” Atsushi replied.

Crossing his arms down his front, Atsushi took hold of the bottom hem of his maroon sweater. In one smooth motion, he brought it up and over, getting his short fluffy hair in a mess as his head popped out of the collar. Pulling his arms out of the sleeves, Atsushi down smoothed the white tee that he wore underneath and tossed the knitted sweater to Imai. Catching it, the first thing Imai noticed was that it was warm, and dry.

“As long as you’re not drenched,” Imai huffed, putting the ball of fabric down between his legs.

Atsushi beamed at him and shuffled the teacups again. After a moment, he invited Imai to make his second pick. Imai lifted the first cup… but it was empty. Atsushi grinned and lifted the middle cup to reveal the cat. Imai wrinkled his nose and hummed a note of acknowledgement. Picking up his glass of shochu, he brought it to his lips and swallowed it in one gulp, grimacing.

“You okay?” Atsushi asked, tilting the spout of the shochu bottle into Imai’s glass.

“Yeah,” Imai croaked, clearing his throat as he felt the burn of the alcohol. “So what do you want?” he asked brusquely.

“Give me those shorts of yours,” Atsushi smirked.

Imai huffed and muttered, “Should've known.”

Unbuttoning his pants, Imai pulled down the zip and leaned backwards, shimming out of his bottoms without standing up. Imai scrunched his shorts up in his hands and threw it in Atsushi's direction. Laughing, Atsushi caught it and put it aside. Almost immediately, Imai felt something brush against his inner thigh. Clicking his tongue, Imai reached under the table and grabbed hold of Atsushi's socked foot.

“I knew it,” Imai clipped, frowning disapprovingly at Atsushi even as he chuckled. “Can't you even wait until we're done with this?”

“The alcohol would've probably knocked you out cold by then,” Atsushi griped. “What am I supposed to do then?”

“You can do whatever you want and you know it,” Imai retorted.

“But Hisashi, it's no fun if you’re not responding,” Atsushi whined.

“Can we just finish this first?” Imai asked, holding Atsushi's foot down by his ankle with a hand as he gestured back to the cups.

Giving up, Atsushi shuffled the cups again and waited for Imai to make his choice. He picked the middle one… and the cat appeared. Atsushi smiled and downed his glass. Imai gestured at him to remove his jeans. After topping his glass up, Atsushi stood up and made a show of stripping his bottoms.

As he brought his hand to the button on his waistband, Atsushi stretched his fingers out, grabbing his crotch with a firm squeeze before unbuttoning. Pulling down his fly, Atsushi had both hands on his front, moving down and massaging his own inner thighs before sliding back up to his hips.

Pushing the waistband of his jeans down, Atsushi hooked his fingers into his briefs as well. He pulled them down together, making his briefs push against his half-hard cock. At the very last moment before his briefs were going to slip off his crotch, Atsushi released the waistband of his briefs, letting the elastic revert while he continued easing his jeans off. Atsushi deliberately caressed his legs all the way down, sticking his rear up in the air as he tugged the pants past his ankles and they were finally off.

Throughout the entire duration, Imai stared at Atsushi impassively. “What's that for?” he asked. “You trying to seduce me or something?”

Atsushi threw his jeans at Imai. Most of it missed him but a pant leg slapped him in the face.


Laughing to himself, Atsushi sat down. “Need I try?” he countered, and brushed his foot against Imai's groin again, now more prominent than before.

“Hey!” Imai snapped again as he clamped his hand over Atsushi's ankle once more.

Atsushi did not struggle, letting Imai hold him down as he shuffled the cups again. Imai made his pick, the right-most cup… and there was no cat. It was in the left-most cup.

Atsushi smirked and twitched a finger at Imai. “Shirt.”

With a sigh, Imai reached for the bottom right hem with his left hand and pulled the shirt off in one smooth motion. Handing it to Atsushi, he picked up his glass and drank his shot. Imai noticed Atsushi’s attentiveness as he poured more shochu into Imai’s cup while watching Imai closely. Imai returned Atsushi’s expression with a subtle, firm nod. He was still sober, perfectly fine.

“Hisashi, you’re only left with your underwear now,” Atsushi pointed out.

“I wasn’t wearing much to begin with, was I?” Imai retorted.

“If you lose it in the next round, you can always continue drinking anyway,” Atsushi shrugged.

“In the nude?”

“Under the blanket’s fine too,” Atsushi suggested, chuckling softly. “Or if you prefer, my arms are free,” he winked.

“Assuming I don’t get knocked out,” Imai muttered, slouching over the table.

Chuckling again, Atsushi closed the cup over the small cat and shuffled again before pausing for Imai. This time, Imai got it right. Without saying a word, he unceremoniously pulled the sock off Atsushi’s foot which he still had his hand on.

When Imai reached for Atsushi’s other foot though, Atsushi put his empty glass down and tutted. “Remember, one article of clothing.”

Imai clicked his tongue and huffed, disgruntled. Atsushi smiled at his reaction as he refilled his own cup. Watching Imai, he noticed the beginnings of a flush on Imai’s cheeks. He hummed to himself softly, making a note to exercise caution when Imai eventually stands up.

Tapping on the table lightly, Atsushi drew Imai’s attention back to the teacups as he began shuffling them around. After awhile, he stopped. Imai chose the correct cup again. Atsushi beamed and offered Imai his other foot from under the table. Staring straight at Atsushi, Imai pulled the other sock off and flung it behind him. His hands caressed Atsushi’s ankles and shins in the split second before Atsushi retracted his legs, making Atsushi smile again.

Following another quick shuffle, Imai chose a cup again but did not get the cat. As he stood up to remove his underwear, Atsushi stood up as well, surprising Imai.

“What is it?” Imai asked, freezing.

Atsushi was silent, appearing tense as he kept his eyes on Imai. After a moment, he muttered, “No, nothing… I just realised it might be uncomfortable to sit skin-to-tatami…” He turned away and went to the cupboard to retrieve the floor cushions.

As he stripped off his final piece of clothing, Imai kept watch on Atsushi, perplexed by the sudden change in demeanour. Atsushi came back to the table, handing a cushion to Imai before setting one down on his seat. Muttering his thanks as he sat down, Imai got even more confused by how Atsushi made no advances on him now that he was completely naked. Brows furrowed, Imai picked up his glass and drank.

While he watched Atsushi fill his cup again, Imai began to notice the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears and that familiar creeping sensation in the back of his head. He swore internally. Propping his elbows up against the table, Imai held his chin in his hand and forced his eyes open as he watched Atsushi shuffle the cups again, idly wondering how many more times he can afford to get it wrong.

Atsushi stopped and Imai picked the middle cup. Atsushi lifted it up and… the cat smiled up at him. Imai smirked. The only movement he made was a finger point at Atsushi’s shirt and beckon with the same index finger. He didn’t trust himself to move too much now.

Instead of simply taking his tee off, Atsushi drank his shochu and moved over to Imai’s side. Imai raised a brow, curious about the change up. Kneeling before Imai with his legs splayed out to the side, Atsushi took the bottom hem of his shirt and brought it to his lips. Biting his shirt, Atsushi tilted his head back and took Imai’s hand to place it on his body, inviting Imai to touch him.

With his cheek in his other hand resting on the table, Imai accepted Atsushi’s invitation, caressing his body as he gazed at Atsushi’s lustful expression. As Atsushi stretched his body out, Imai felt the curve of Atsushi’s ribs, moving up to tease his pert nipples with light grazes. Blissful sighs escaped Atsushi’s lips as he breathed Imai’s name, tempting him.

“Just give me your shirt,” Imai muttered, smirking in amusement. “I'm sure you can wait a little more.”

Atsushi leaned closer, letting Imai's hand push his shirt higher as he released the fabric from between his teeth. With his goatee barely touching Imai's ear, Atsushi breathed, “But Hisashi, you're far too close to falling asleep on me, aren't you?”

“Give me your shirt or I'll go straight to sleep.”

Despite his dejected whine, Atsushi pulled back and took his tee off, tossing it into Imai's possession before moving back to his original seat on his knees. Imai draped the still-warm fabric over his shoulder, enjoying the faint scent of Atsushi's cologne that lingered.

Subconsciously burying his nose in the fabric, Imai blankly watched a small smile tug at Atsushi’s lips as he shuffled the cups once more. When Atsushi stopped, Imai realised he wasn't paying attention to the teacups. He stared at them, this time at a complete loss. After a moment, he shrugged to himself and randomly picked one. What difference did it make now, right?

Atsushi lifted the cup… and there was no cat. Imai laughed and reached for his cup but Atsushi swiped it away, swallowing its contents before Imai could even reach it. Imai clicked his tongue and frowned at him before snatching Atsushi’s own glass over. Alarmed, Atsushi began to make his way over to Imai, who gave Atsushi a steady stare as he downed Atsushi’s glass. Putting the cup down, Imai took Atsushi’s shirt off his shoulder and whipped Atsushi’s leg with it as he approached. Atsushi yelped, rubbing the spot where Imai hit.

“We’re finishing this, and that’s that,” Imai declared, whipping Atsushi again when he tried to approach.

“But Hisashi!” Atsushi whined.

“Sit your ass back down. You started this, didn’t you?” Imai retorted.

Reluctantly, Atsushi went back to his seat again. Imai tapped the glasses, prompting Atsushi to fill them up again. The game went on and Imai lost another two times, drinking even more than Atsushi had initially planned to let him have.

As he poured yet another cup for an increasingly sleepy Imai, Atsushi looked at the bottle and noticed that there was only a little more left, a small enough amount that he could finish on his own in one go. With that in mind, Atsushi put down the bottle. Before shuffling the cups, he made sure Imai saw where the cat was, lifting the cups to look under each one. Imai’s brows furrowed, finding it odd that Atsushi did that, but it disappeared once the shuffling began, his focus going back to following the cat. After a few seconds, Atsushi stopped and Imai chose the middle cup. Atsushi grinned and lifted the cup to reveal the cat. Imai finally got it right.

Atsushi brought his glass to his lips and drank while his other hand began to push the waistband of his briefs lower. Pushing up onto his knees, Atsushi put his empty glass back down on the table and picked up Imai’s to drink from as well. Imai voiced his protest with a noise and surged forward to try and get his cup back. The movement was, however, too sudden and Imai suddenly felt his head spin as he felt himself rock to the side. Thankfully, Atsushi was fast enough to catch him. Feeling Atsushi’s warm presence envelop him as Atsushi moved him to the messy futon, Imai started chuckling.

“Why are you laughing?” Atsushi asked chidingly. Lying down with Imai, he hugged Imai, cuddling him in his arms as he added, “This is precisely why I’ve been trying to stop-”

“Remember how I used to drink so much more than this,” Imai cut in slurring as his shoulders shook while he kept laughing to himself.

“Not in shots ,” Atsushi hissed.

“Are you getting angry?” Imai asked, looking at Atsushi with a silly smile.

“You’re supposed to decline once the alcohol starts getting to you, like you always do,” Atsushi whined. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

Imai burst out laughing. “Since when?!”

“Well- More so than me, at least,” Atsushi countered.

“Well, this is down time, isn’t it?” Imai reminded, bringing a hand up to caress the coarse hairs on Atsushi’s face.

Atsushi hummed softly, enjoying Imai’s stroking as he nuzzled against his palm. Meeting Imai’s eyes, Atsushi moved Imai’s hand out of the way, pulling him into kiss. Feeling Atsushi’s facial hair stab into the soft skin of his lips made Imai wince, reminding him why women he dated seemed to insist on him shaving more often than not. Atsushi seemed to notice Imai’s discomfort. Pausing, he asked, “Don’t like it?”

“Feels like I’m kissing a stranger,” Imai chuckled but distress flashed in Atsushi’s eyes, making him stop his laughter. “Hey, hey, I didn’t say I hated it now, did I?” Imai said quickly as he inched closer to Atsushi.

“I can go shave now-”

“Acchan, don’t be ridiculous,” Imai cut in. “You’ve been drinking. You could cut yourself.”

“But you don’t-”

Imai pressed his lips against Atsushi’s silencing him. Pushing his tongue into Atsushi’s mouth, Imai swept past Atsushi’s teeth and met his tongue, tasting each other as he shoved the discomfort into the back of his mind. Atsushi held Imai’s face in his hands, caressing him and running a hand through his long hair as he kissed back.

Sliding his hands down, Atsushi ran his fingers over Imai’s shoulders, continuing to move lower over his chest, teasing Imai’s nipples as he went past, and further down to his hips. When Atsushi’s mouth moved to his neck, Imai closed his eyes and sighed, arching his back. Pressing their hips together as Atsushi grazed against his skin with his lips and facial hair, Imai curled his fingers into Atsushi’s hair, gripping tight and releasing intermittently.

After a moment, Imai felt Atsushi’s hands grab his ankles, sliding under his calves, up to the back of his thighs as Atsushi pushed his legs up, knees to his chest. Kneeling upright, Atsushi reached behind, to the side, for the pack of condoms and bottle of lube that was carelessly tossed aside. As he put on the condom, Atsushi tapped Imai on his knee and said, “Don’t you dare fall asleep, Hisashi.”

Imai yawned. ‘Man, I don’t know, Acchan. Who knows…” He yawned again. “Who knows what my body decides to do.”

“Are you sure you can sleep when I’m doing this though?” Atsushi asked, teasing the tip of Imai’s erection with a finger.

Imai sucked in a breath and jerked his hips from the unexpected stimulation. Forearm over his eyes, Imai groaned as Atsushi kept at it, gently prodding under his foreskin. Imai’s jaw tensed and his fingers scratched at the futon as Atsushi’s hand slid down the length of his erection, straight to his scrotum. Atsushi squeezed and kneaded gently but did not linger long. Frustrated, Imai moaned and dropped a foot down onto the futon with a thump.

“Patience,” Atsushi murmured, leaning over Imai as his fingers pressed against Imai's perineum.

The alcohol already made Imai feel heady, but with Atsushi's teasing added to it, Imai was unable to focus on anything except Atsushi's voice and whatever he made his body feel. As he groaned, Imai was vaguely aware of himself uttering “Acchan” and Atsushi's response to lean in close. He felt Atsushi's warm breath on his cheek, goatee tickling his jaw as soft kisses came from Atsushi's lips. Down low, a cool substance was applied against his entrance, probably lube. As Atsushi's fingers slowly pressed into Imai, he groaned again, back arching and muscles clenching in response.

Snaking an arm under Imai, Atsushi sucked at Imai's neck as he thrust his fingers, curling them in a fluid motion each time he drew them out. Imai's breathing gradually grew heavy and Atsushi removed his fingers, nipping lightly at Imai's shoulder before he sat up again.

Immersed in his own pleasure, Imai felt his body go into a lull. He felt like he was sinking into the futon, feeling so comfortable he could just close his eyes and drift away. Before he could though, a tight sensation in his lower half dispelled the comfort, making him breath in deep and groan. Cracking his eyes open, Imai was greeted by Atsushi’s smile, beaming wider as he muttered, “Good, you didn’t fall asleep.”

“Almost…” Imai mumbled, feeling wakefulness slipping out of his grasp again.

Just then, Imai woke up with a jolt again as Atsushi started moving in him. Imai grabbed onto Atsushi, gripping tight as his body rocked with the waves of pleasure that rushed through him. Lightheaded and overwhelmed, Imai groaned pressed his forehead into Atsushi’s shoulder, listening to Atsushi’s soft moans. He felt Atsushi’s head turn towards him, the prickly sensation of his goatee against his cheek, lips searching for a kiss. Imai turned and reciprocated, letting Atsushi assault his mouth and suck on his lips as his mind went blank.

Hearing soft grunts and moans coming from Imai told Atsushi that he hasn’t knocked out despite his vacant expression. He could feel himself reaching his limit soon. Reaching a hand down, Atsushi took Imai’s erection in his hand and started stroking him as well, causing Imai to tighten his grip on Atsushi’s torso as his hips began gyrating to Atsushi’s rhythm. When Imai’s erection twitched and throbbed, Imai’s jaw went slack and blissful sigh came out along with his warm, sticky ejaculation. Feeling Imai’s insides squeeze against him, Atsushi moaned and thrust harder, pushing in deep as he came.

As Atsushi pulled out, Imai’s body went limp, relaxing on the futon. Removing the condom from himself, Atsushi nudged Imai with an elbow. “C’mon, we need to get you cleaned up.”

No response came from Imai.

“Hisashi?” Atsushi cocked his head and looked down at Imai, lying motionless on the futon. Crouching over, Atsushi went down lower and peered at Imai. “Hisashi~?” he tried calling again.

Imai barely responded, only managing a single, almost-inaudible grunt.

Atsushi started laughing and lay down on his side, propping his head up in his hand as he gazed at Imai. “Asleep already, are you?”

The only response that Atsushi got was soft, slow breathing from Imai’s sleeping form.

Eyes crinkling with affection as he smiled, Atsushi gently brushed Imai’s hair out of his face and leaned over to give him a peck on his forehead. Getting up, he retrieved tissues and wet towels to clean Imai with. Once done with Imai, Atsushi tucked him in under the blanket and then went on to down the last bit of the shochu. There was no point in keeping such a small amount, and throwing it away would be a waste anyway.

With the bottle now empty, Atsushi set it aside, next to the trash can, away from any chance of Imai stumbling over it if he wakes up for the bathroom. Shifting the low table and the cups away as well, Atsushi took the stuffed cat out from under a teacup and put it into his bag, lest he forgets.

It was only after the room was clear of all possible obstacles that Atsushi finally joined Imai in the futon. Putting an arm around Imai, Atsushi hugged him from behind, nuzzling against his shoulder.

Since Imai was asleep… “Goodnight, Maimai,” Atsushi whispered.

Almost immediately, Imai snapped, “Don’t! Call me that…”

Atsushi bolted upright, staring at Imai. “You’re awake?!” he asked.

To which Imai replied with a string of unintelligible mutterings before settling back into silence.

Atsushi chuckled as he lay back down. “Sleep talking, huh?” All he heard was the sound of Imai’s quiet breathing in response. Atsushi smiled and nuzzled against Imai again, hugging him. “There sure is no one like you, is there?” Atsushi remarked to no one in particular.

Closing his eyes, Atsushi was eventually lulled to sleep by Imai’s rhythmic breathing and the warmth they shared under the covers, feeling safe and a world away from the torrential rain and howling winds outside.

Chapter Text

Imai closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the sofa he was seated on, slowly blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth. He stayed there, soaking in the fuzzy relaxation of his high as he listened to the sounds around him. A cheap, worn out mattress squeaking leading the rhythm that two men groaned and moaned over. He heard his name being cried out by an oh-so familiar voice and slowly he opened his eyes again, turning his head towards it.

Across from him in the dingy little motel room they had all holed up in Sakurai sat straddled atop Raymond in bed as they fucked away. Cigarette still in hand, Imai shifted to turn to the side in order to get a better view of the two men at play.


Sakurai arched his back as his hips raised and lowered over Raymond, caressing his own thighs and torso with his hands. He pinched his nipple, turning his head to check if Imai had decided to watch them or not. Seeing the intense yet impassive look on his face as he draped himself over the couch arm to watch, Sakurai smirked before he turned back to the man under him.


Raymond’s expression was one of sheer bliss, half closed eyes watching Sakurai’s fluid movements as he rode him. A flurry of praises came from him, only a few of which Sakurai could understand. Feeling Raymond’s hands caressing his sides, Sakurai brought his hands to meet his, bringing them to roam around his body.


With one last drag of his cigarette, Imai snuffed it out in an ashtray on the nightstand by the bed as he sauntered up to it. Disrobing without a sound, Imai climbed up onto the bed behind Sakurai, pressing into his back as his hands joined theirs. Imai pressed his forehead into Sakurai’s shoulder, breathing in deeply as he pushed all of their hands down into the space between Sakurai’s legs. He smirked against Sakurai’s sweaty back as he felt Raymond’s hands move out from underneath, Sakurai’s gasp and sudden jerk letting him know where the hands had moved to. Reaching up on his own, Imai brushed his fingers up the expanse of Sakurai’s chest until he held his chin and turned him in order to meet his lips with his own.

Sakurai broke the kiss, leaning back against Imai as he pushed himself down harder against Raymond, whimpering as he rolled his hips into him.

“Ah, more, more! I need…” His hands moved back to grip tightly against Imai’s hips, trying to push him even closer. In response, Imai wrapped one arm across Sakurai’s chest, the other hand sliding down his back until he could grasp the swell of his ass.


“Hold still,” Imai whispered and Sakurai nodded, complying to his request. As he felt it, his knees quivered and he threw his head back against Imai, panting harshly as he felt himself open past his limits as Imai’s pushed in. Raymond, still inside, moaned out as he felt Imai rub up against him in Sakurai, hips thrusting up against the intense sensation. Sakurai felt as if he was being split into two. His body went limp against Imai as he fought against an urge to faint.

Imai supported him upright as he began to move Sakurai and himself above Raymond. As Sakurai squeezed himself around, Imai and Raymond both revealed in the sensation of his tightness bringing them to rub up against each other as managed to move within him.

The sounds leaving Sakurai were delirious sounding yet passionate, unintelligible as they escaped between Imai’s fingers thrusted inside. The other two men moaned out his name, singing praises to him in their native tongues as they both stroked his cock and balls, imploring him to come.


Unable to stand up to all of the attention to his body, Sakurai sobbed weakly as he felt himself orgasm. Letting him slump forward onto his forearms, Imai grabbed his hips and rammed in, feeling Raymond buck up into him as they both came inside of Sakurai’s ass.

Imai huffed, idly rubbing Sakurai’s back as his own breathing slowed and he felt his erection reside enough to easily remove himself. Once he did, Raymond pulled Sakurai up to himself, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, as he slid out of him as well with a harsh hiss.

Imai sat up on the bed against the wall, a hand reaching out to spread Sakurai open as he watched the sticky mix of Raymond’s and his own semen leak out.


Sakurai moaned softly against Raymond, curling up into his embrace as exhaustion set in. Playing with his hair, Raymond looked up over Sakurai’s shoulder to Imai and grinned as their eyes met.

“I can’t believe you were hiding him from me,” Raymond laughed. “I’d been back to Tokyo to visit you sooner if I’d known.”

Chapter Text

Hide found himself cornered, unable to find an escape route as Sakurai approached him with a salacious smile on his face. With each step Sakurai took towards him, Hide took a tentative step back, like a cautious tango.

“Hide~” Sakurai’s flirtatious voice sang. “Don’t act so disinterested now, I know what you were staring at on stage,” he said, his voice going low.

Hide raised his brows, cocking his head to one side as he looked to the ceiling. Suddenly, he felt something hit the back of his legs and Hide fell backwards into the couch in this dressing room.

Sakurai chuckled, leaning in as he put his hands on either side of Hide’s head against the wall behind the couch. “Hide, if you want it, you’d just have to ask,” Sakurai’s honeyed voice breathed in Hide’s ear, making him shudder involuntarily.

Smiling with a huff at Hide’s reaction, Sakurai drew back. Balancing on his right foot, Sakurai pulled his boot off his left foot and planted his stockinged toes on the space between Hide’s legs. Pushing up on the ball of his foot, Sakurai put a hand on the bridge of his foot and slowly dragged it upwards. When his hand brushed over his ankle, his fingers curled under the hem of his flowy wide pants, rolling it up his leg as his hand went higher and higher, eventually revealing the fair skin of his upper thigh. Holding his pant leg up with one hand, Sakurai caressed his exposed thigh with the other as Hide’s eyes fixated on it.

“You can touch me if you want, you know?” Sakurai said, smirking at Hide.

Hide swallowed. Despite his expressionless face, he wasn’t quite sure what he should do. As his eyes darted between Sakurai’s expectant look, his own hands, and Sakurai’s thigh, Hide eventually decided to go with it, as usual.

Hand under Sakurai’s ankle, Hide slid his hand up the back of Sakurai’s calf with a firm but gentle grip which he pulled Sakurai’s leg closer with. Sakurai raised a brow and hummed an intrigued tune, pleased with Hide’s interest.

As Hide's hand reached higher, under Sakurai's thigh, Sakurai moved his foot closer to Hide. With his big toe now a mere millimeter away from Hide's crotch, Sakurai wriggled his toes, carelessly tickling Hide's crotch.

Hide breathed in sharply, closing his eyes and leaning back as Sakurai’s toes drew closer. When his toes pressed against Hide's crotch, curling and releasing, Hide felt his insides stirring and let out a low groan. He heard a chuckle from Sakurai and the pressure disappeared. Looking up, Hide heard the scrape of metal against the concrete as he watched Sakurai bring an aluminium folding chair before him. Sakurai took his other boot of as he sat down and put both feet up on the couch between Hide's legs.

“This will make things easier,” Sakurai said, smirking.

Without warning, Sakurai's right foot began kneading Hide's crotch again, his penis now getting harder as Sakurai dragged his left foot up Hide's torso, pushing him to lean back against the couch.

Hide’s hands caressed Sakurai's legs as he moved, grip tightening and releasing with Sakurai's kneading. Sakurai paused his advance at Hide's chest, pressing his toes against Hide's nipple as he rubbed. Hide's chest heaved as he sucked in a deep breath and let out a long sigh to Sakurai's teasing. His fingers dug into Sakurai's flesh, fingernails scratching against the strip of lace that ran up the length of his legs.

“Careful you don't tear them, Hide,” Sakurai warned with a sing-song voice. “Otherwise you'll have to explain to Yagi-san… or Hisashi.” Sakurai's smirk grew wider, mischief on his mind when he mentioned Imai.

Hide froze and cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a ball of dread in his stomach at the thought of having to mention this to anyone.

Sakurai laughed, his teeth flashing for a moment as he brought his left foot higher. Hide's attention went back to the smooth silky material that covered Sakurai's foot. He felt Sakurai slide his foot into the opening of his shirt, smoothing over his chest, past his shoulder, and up his neck to trail along his prominent jawline.

As Sakurai’s toes crept up Hide’s chin, Sakurai dragged his other foot down the length of Hide’s erection, applying pressure and pressing into his balls, making Hide flutter his eyes and groan. Sakurai started to stroke Hide’s erection between his big toe and the second toe, using the tension of the stocking to his advantage. Hide moaned louder and with his jaw slack, Sakurai put his toes into Hide’s mouth, gagging him and muffling his noises.

Having Sakurai’s toes shoved into his mouth all of a sudden surprised Hide and he jerked back, eyes wide with bewilderment. His shock was, however, quickly washed away by the pleasure that Sakurai’s right foot brought him. With each stroke that went down, Sakurai would take a moment to knead Hide’s balls before sliding back up, and then rubbing his toes over the tip of Hide’s erection before repeating the process again.

Hide’s body shuddered as he breathed, stifled moans dragging out with Sakurai’s fondling. In his mounting arousal, Hide’s hands slid to Sakurai’s thighs, fingertips pressing hard into his soft flesh. Even in the haze of his lust, the prospect of having to explain any scratch lines scared Hide enough to exercise caution. Removing his foot from Hide’s mouth, Sakurai traced a cold, wet trail of saliva down his chin, along his neck, and to his chest before removing his feet from Hide’s body.

Releasing a long sigh with his head tilting back, Hide thought that Sakurai was done with toying with him and would finally go, but while he was indeed done with teasing, Sakurai wasn’t about to leave.

Hide felt a movement at his waist and looked down to find Sakurai looking up at him with seductive eyes and a playful grin as he unbuckled Hide’s belt. Hide started to try and sit up to protest but Sakurai’s hand went straight to his crotch. With a firm squeeze, Hide groaned and lost all will to object, letting Sakurai continue with undressing his lower half.

Pulling the waistband of Hide’s underwear down, Sakurai took Hide’s erection out and began kissing his shaft. “Oh, Hide…” Sakurai’s voice muttered low. Licking the length of Hide’s cock from base to tip, Sakurai had his lips to Hide’s tip as he moaned, “You sure are big, aren’t you, Hide?”

Hide groaned and shifted uncomfortably, his desire escalating with Sakurai’s words. When Sakurai started french kissing his tip, Hide moaned and jerked his hips, clenching his fists as he tried to resist his lust.

Sakurai felt Hide’s erection twitch again and he let Hide into his mouth, tongue pushing his foreskin down as Sakurai’s head went down. Hide moaned, his back arching and knees jerking towards each other only to clamp against Sakurai’s torso. Unfazed, Sakurai let Hide’s erection hit the back of his throat, humming with pleasure as he drew his head back out, making it a point to have Hide rub against the roof of his mouth. Taking Hide out of his mouth, Sakurai took a moment to moan Hide’s name again before dipping his head back down with a low hum.

The vibrations in Sakurai’s mouth made Hide feel as if his insides were shaking as well. Combined with the heat and wetness of his mouth, it was as if Hide was melting from the inside out. Hide’s hand reached out and grabbed Sakurai’s head by his hair but all Hide managed was a tug at his hair, grip tightening and loosening as Sakurai moved.

Sakurai’s cheeks tensed in a smile as he sucked on Hide, charmed with his reaction. Barely holding back a chuckled, Sakurai pushed his head down again, taking Hide all the way in. As he pulled out, Sakurai sucked with the back of his throat, creating a suction that made Hide moan with fervour and cum into his mouth in thick gushes. Without letting Hide out of his mouth, Sakurai drank him down, continuing to suck until Hide was done. Finally drawing his head back up, Sakurai let Hide out of his mouth with a wet noise, grinning up at a drained Hide.

Hide didn’t need to do anything as he looked at Sakurai putting his penis back into his underwear and zipping up his pants. He even buckled his belt back for him. Lying slumped on the couch, Hide watched as Sakurai nonchalantly dusted his knees and put his shoes back on. Before he left though, Sakurai turned and came back to Hide. Apprehensive, Hide pushed himself up right, back straightening.

A low chuckled came from Sakurai as he leaned in close, holding Hide’s chin in his fingers as he beamed at Hide. “Thank you for the meal,” he breathed. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Unable to speak, the only reaction that Hide could afford was the clearing of his throat again and swallowing.

Sakurai laughed in response, clearly amused by Hide’s reaction as he turned and walked away. As he opened the door and walked out though, Hide thought he saw Imai peeking into the room and his insides clenched. Quickly gathering himself together, Hide briskly approached the door. He waited a few moments before opening the door and peering out… There was no one in the corridor.

Must’ve been his trepidation playing tricks on his eyes… Right?

Chapter Text

“Ahh Imai! It’s not going to fit, there’s already too much inside!!”


“Just relax Yuta, I can slide it in no problem.”

Sakurai jumped out of the passenger section of the van as he heard metal scrape on metal, glaring at the two men currently struggling to stuff a charcoal grill into the back.


“You two knock it off! The agency is going to be pissed if we ruin the tour van like this!”

It had been a sweltering hot summer, a heatwave so bad that they found even their studio’s AC was no match. Rather than hang around inside all day, barely working on anything due to the heat, Hide and Imai proposed a day at the beach. Everyone but Sakurai, who needed a little bit more cajoling, were immediately on board and planned to meet with everything needed back at the studio the next day, all already decked out in their beachwear.


Once there, everyone worked quickly to build out their beach spot for the day. Imai and Toll assembled an outdoor dining area by a picnic table permanently affixed where the sand gave way to grass, setting up the grill and a mosquito canopy over the table. Yuta was unloading some coolers, and Hide took the fishing gear out to the dock that stretched out into the ocean.


Sakurai, once he fought open a folding lounge chair and umbrella, had curled up under the shade book in hand. Large brimmed black sun hat on, he was oblivious to Hide walking up to him until he felt a stream of wetness across his face, causing him to reel back in shock.

Hide chuckled as he continued to squirt water from a small toy gun at Sakurai as he scrambled off his chair, trying to find someone or something to hide behind. Making his way up to Imai, he grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around as he cowered behind his back.


Opening his mouth to protest, Imai was silenced by Hide filling him with a spray from his gun. Feeling the water sneak up his nose, Imai lurched over, coughing and gasping for air. Flustered, Hide tried to hide the water gun sheepishly as Imai gave him a stony glare before turning to give a feeble swipe at Sakurai.

“You know the whole point of a day at the beach is to get a little wet, right Acchan?”


After setting up their area, Imai chased them off towards the shore to leave him in peace as he started up the grill.

Sitting together on the dock, Hide and the Higuchis prepared their lines to cast out as Sakurai cracked open a beer can from the cooler as he sat back and watched.


Back the grill, Imai hummed along to a radio on the picnic table as he sat with a cutting board, getting down to the business of preparing his curry for later that day, peeling and slicing into a batch of carrots and potatoes. Seeing the black shrouded blob that was Sakurai on the dock with the rest of the band brought a soft smile to his face. He and Hide had been trying to get everyone to join them on a camping trip, but even when their schedules matched up, it was always Sakurai who would refuse in the end. Maybe if they had allowed him to bring a cat he’d have agreed sooner, Imai mused in humor.


As he was finishing up and preparing to head down to the dock himself, he heard the guys yelling wildly. Looking at them, he could see them huddled together at one fishing pole. Making his way closer, he realized that it was Toll and Yuta fighting something fierce on the line while Hide and Sakurai cheered them on.

With a mighty tug together, Toll and Yuta managed to drag their catch out of the waters, falling over on one another as they did. As Yuta got up off of his older brother, he made a frown as he saw what they had been fighting.


Coming up behind them, Imai let out a wild cackle. “Ha! I see you two nabbed a big one, guess I better clean it up and get it ready for dinner.” As he stepped closer to kick the catch, a chunk of tire, Yuta growled and lunged after him, planning to shove him into the water. Before he could reach Imai however, Sakurai stuck out his leg, tripping Yuta and causing him to fall off the deck.

Unwilling to go alone though, Yuta grabbed Sakurai by his black cover up, pulling him into the water with him with a large splash. The three men still on dry land exchanged glances before shrugging and diving in as well.


The water was warm and inviting, and they spent the majority of the day in it, splashing and horsing around. At one point, Yuta suggested a game of kibasen in the water, Higuchis vs Guitarists, with Sakurai as the referee. With Hide and Toll playing the part of the (water) horse, Imai and Yuta sat tall on their shoulders, ready to fight.

Beer in one hand, Sakurai raised the other, bringing it down to signal the start of the round. As Toll and Hide approached one another, the men on them locked hands, struggling to push over one another. The fight was surprisingly fierce as neither Yuta nor Imai would budge, tightening their grips on their mighty steeds with their legs as they held strong.


Unfortunately, Imai held on a little too hard. Hide, finding it hard to breathe as Imai’s thighs crushed into his neck like a vice, bucked him off into the water himself, gasping for air as he did.


“Hide! You shit I almost had him!” Imai dove into the water, charging after Hide, trying to grab at him. Hide tried to swim away as fast as he could, but he felt Imai grab at his legs, climbing closer to him until he stopped dead in his tracks.


In the middle of their roughhousing, Imai had yanked off Hide’s swim shorts, which he proudly held high above the water as he swam away from Hide cackling loudly. Hide in turn immediately started swimming towards Imai, but as he drew close, Imai balled up the shorts and threw them at Sakurai, shouting “Keep away!” as he did. Holding the shorts in his hands, Sakurai made no effort to toss them to someone else and instead hid them behind his back, giving Hide a predatory smile.

Hide looked nervously at Sakurai, then turned to Imai, pleading with him. Imai shook his head dejectedly and motioned at Sakurai to give back Hide’s shorts, which he did with much pouting.


One by one, the left the water, drying off what they could with towels. Fortunately it was still early and the sun was still shining brightly in the summer heat, so they hoped that would take care of the rest of the dampness.


Back at the grill, Imai was on his game again, adding meat to the sizzling surface that also held a pot of curry bubbling away.

Still fussing about trying to dry off his hair with a towel, Sakurai came to stand by Imai in hopes that the extra heat of the grill would assist. However, as the fat and juices of the meats began to render and drip away, hitting the hot coals underneath, a smoke rose up from the grill and Sakurai frowned as it got into his eyes.

Imai was oblivious, focused on preparing their meal, idly scatting over the jazz music Toll had switched the radio to. Sitting back down at the table with the rest of the group, Sakurai turned to Hide with a pitiful pout.


“Hideeee,” he whined, “Didn’t you bring a hairbrush?”


“I did but,” Hide chewed his lip as he tugged the damp ponytail on his head, “First can you help me get this out? I forgot I had my hair tied up when we all jumped into the water. I think its tangled some.”


Signalling for Hide to turn around, Sakurai to undo the tie wrapped around his hair. He tried his best to be gentle, but too much of Hide’s hair had tangled and knotted around it. Hide winced as Sakurai worked his hair free, needing to grip it at his scalp as he fought the knots apart. Once the tie was off, Sakurai didn’t stop, continuing to rake his mane with his fingers until he was satisfied. Despite feeling that all of that had been payback for some slight he’d given Sakurai, Hide thanked him and went to retrieve his brush out of his backpack so that they could clean up further, just in time for dinner.


The spread Imai had set out before them was quite a feast for what he had to work with. Plates of grilled hot dogs, chicken wings, and pork chops were spread out, along with packages of buns, potato chips, condiments, and a pot of curry. Paper napkins and plates, and plastic bowls and cutlery had been put out by Yuta, as Toll brought out a set of sake cups and a bottle he’d brought along for the moment.


Gingerly holding a chicken wing in his fingers, Sakurai took a bite, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned in pleasure. The skin was crispy but easily gave way under his teeth, revealing the tender, juicy meat that clung to the bones. His ravenous noises were met by hums of delight by Yuta, who was working on building the best hot dog he could imagine.


The plump, juicy weiner was nestled in between the soft, doughy bun, and slathered with curry sauce. Crushing a handful of chips into his hands, the crispy bits crumbled down onto the hot dog, covering it on top. Holding the dog up with pride, Yuta brought it to his mouth, which was wide open to receive.

As he bit into it however, the curry sauce oozed out of his mouth, dribbling down his chin. Luckily for him, his brother Toll was already on the defense, thrusting a paper napkin under his chin and catching the curry as it fell. Setting the hot dog back on the table, Yuta took the napkin from Toll to finish wiping his face before he reached up to peck Toll on the cheek.


“Anii, my hero~!” He laughed.


They all settled in, enjoying the food with gusto. At one point, Sakurai was in the middle of making his own hot dog when the nozzle of the mustard bottle appeared to be clogged. He shook it in frustration, slamming it down onto the table when mustard still refused to come out until that exact moment, when a glob of the yellow substance shot out, hitting Hide square under the eye.


As they dined, the sun began to fall low in the sky, signalling that their time at the beach would be over soon. As they cleared up the table together, Imai pulled out from his grillside cooler one last treat for them to share.


A Boston cream pie he had picked up from his favorite bakery earlier that day.