Word Count: 1,375
Summary: Jun's having one of those days and has needs.
Notes: For alexiela who asked for Matsumiya. Not quite exactly (at all) what you asked for, but I managed to write a little bit of porn! :D Thanks to vintage_belle for looking this over. ♥
It was one of those days. The kind where nothing seemed to go the way you thought or hoped it would. One of those days where nothing gets done and everyone has a pitiful excuse. The kind that takes all the plans you made and shreds them into tiny, withering pieces.
‘Come over,’ was all Jun wrote in his email; he didn’t ask or explain. It seemed that Nino knew that when one of those messages came, it was really a request and not a command and not to take the snappy tone to heart. Though after each time Jun hit send, his insides would twist with anxiety at the thought that maybe this would be the time Nino’d stop coming. He doesn’t like to think that maybe he needs this—needs him.
Jun steps off the elevator onto his floor and Nino is squatting outside his apartment door, baseball cap shadowing his face as he practices shuffling a deck of cards with one hand. Nino’s movements are slow and clumsy—his hands aren’t quite large enough to make the pass and he hasn’t yet figured out a way to make it work.
“Hey,” Jun mumbles. The furrow on his brow deepens as he digs around the bottom of his bag in search of his keys.
“Welcome home,” Nino replies as he stands, pocketing the cards. When Jun swears in frustration, Nino reaches out for one of the handles of the tote and helps push the contents around. He finds the missing keys tangled in the wires of Jun’s earphones.
Jun likes that Nino doesn’t ask questions on days like these. He likes that Nino lets Jun usher him in and hurry him into house slippers and crowd him against the wall next to the shoe cabinet and work through the day’s irritations with kisses that are almost biting. What he likes even more is that Nino gives as good as he gets.
When the wall becomes more of a hindrance than a help—Nino gets lazy and leans more into the wall than into Jun and once knocked a picture off and broke the glass in the frame when looking for purchase—Jun leads the way inside. The kitchen is crisp and glittering with chrome and black marble but the rest of the house is organized clutter and comfortable: the dark couch is soft and worn in, small mountains of DVDs and CDs frame the television stand and the coffee table is stacked with bills to pay and a book he’s been trying to get through for the last week and a half.
Jun tosses his keys onto the table and dumps his bag on the floor, all while they tug at t-shirts and belt loops. He walks Nino into the frame of his bedroom door—by complete accident. Nino has no scathing remark but he sucks on the skin of Jun’s neck maybe a little too hard in response: a mark for a mark is only fair.
Before Jun nudges him down onto the bed, Nino murmurs into the skin just below his ear, hot and husky, “What do you want to do?”
Today isn’t one of those days for languid, lazy fucking. Today isn’t one for easy experimentation either. The question is a formality, really; Jun’s fingers curl around the back of Nino’s skull and nails lightly scratch an answer anyway.
Jun’s belt is unbuckled and pants unbuttoned, fly unzipped. Nino’s dexterous fingers push the fitted material down his slim hips, taking boxer-briefs at the same time. When Jun stands in nothing but the leather bracelet on his wrist and the glazed look on his face, Nino strokes his cock two, three times before taking him into his mouth.
No matter how many times they do this, there will always be something intrinsic and fascinating about watching Nino sucking and licking and doing all manners of dirty things: looking down to see his dick slip and slide between those wet, pink, swollen lips makes Jun feel like a porn star. The way Nino’s eyes flick up to his like a coquet say that Nino likes to be watched as much as Jun likes watching.
One of Nino's hands holds Jun’s hip while the other aids his mouth, filling the room with wet slurps and pops, Jun’s sudden exhales and Nino’s hums as the cock in his mouth hardens.
“What about this?” Nino asks, traversing the vein on the underside with his thumb while he palms Jun’s balls.
“Yes—” The word getting caught in Jun’s throat as short fingers move to stroke his perineum. “Do that again.”
Nino does and Jun groans, his fingers tighten in Nino’s hair. He apologizes for that, the need to grab and hold on and keep Nino right there. Nino takes him deep, as far as he can go, but it’s just a little bit too much when Jun pushes back.
“Sorry,” Jun says, brushing Nino’s hair out of his eyes.
“It’s alright,” Nino replies with a shake of his head and a grin. “I guess I do have a gag reflex.”
Jun laughs and the mood shifts from that something desperate and almost angry. Nino pulls him down to the mattress and tosses all the pillows to the floor. He kisses Jun’s lips and it’s soft and delicate and lingering, ensuring that he’s pliant and relaxed before sliding down to kneel between Jun’s legs.
Jun closes his eyes and feels the ridges of the roof of Nino’s mouth against the head of his penis and the roughness of his taste buds underneath and the slick enveloping heat. Nino covers his teeth with his lips and makes a tight seal around Jun’s dick; one hand is wrapped around the base, smoothing down Jun’s hair and shortening the length but Jun can’t tell where fingers end and lips begin—it feels like Nino is taking him all in.
Another stroke of Jun’s perineum has him bucking into Nino’s mouth he’s so close and knows Nino can feel it in the way his cock swells. He brushes the tips of his fingers across Nino’s cheek bones—a signal, a forewarning that he’s going to let go—and places his hands on the back of Nino’s head and begins to fuck his mouth in earnest.
“I’m almost—just a little more,” Jun pants. Nino sucks hard and that’s all it takes to pull Jun over the edge. His orgasm is long and hard; the tension he’s been carrying all day makes release feel that much better and Nino doesn’t stop until Jun’s cock is empty.
Jun becomes vaguely aware of the bed shifting as Nino stands to find a box of tissues. His skin tingles where Nino wipes away slick and spit and the delicious mess he made and he waits for his heart rate to normalize. Nino kisses him on the forehead and asks, “Better?”
Everything is still fuzzy around the edges. All of the bullshit that made Jun’s day impossibly painful is long forgotten but when things begin to sharpen and Nino curls up beside him, guilt takes its place.
“I’m sorry, Nino.”
“For calling you, like this. It’s…”
“I was going to say ‘unfair’, but I guess that works.”
Nino stretches out beside him on the bed and laces his fingers with Jun’s. He’s still wearing his jeans but they dropped his t-shirt somewhere on the way from the living room. Jun is naked but he can’t feel embarrassed. Not after all this time.
“No one—not even the marvellous Matsujun—could make me come here if I didn’t want to.”
Now that Nino’s all but said it—this is more than Jun thought it ever was—it’s obvious and he feels stupid for not having figured it out on his own. Jun’s stomach does a little back flip and he doesn’t have to think twice about what that means though he will probably replay their conversation through his head a few dozen times just to be certain. Nino turns into Jun’s side and kisses his shoulder lightly.
“I know you need this. You don’t have to apologize for needing something to cope sometimes. I know you would do the same for me.”