i am the question to all the answers (maiaide) wrote in stage1902,
i am the question to all the answers

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Jun/Aiba Smut: Field of Flowers

Title: Field of Flowers
Pairing: Aiba/Jun (because "Junba" or any other variations are dumb.)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,188
Summary: Breakfast, sex, fluff and an appearance by manly!Aiba.
Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!  I have been working on this for tohshimari for about a week and finally had a breakthrough tonight. Was it good for you?  I hope you like it!

            It was only ten and Jun was still cozy in bed.  Something warm was draped across his chest, curling around his torso in quite a delicious fashion.  His royal blue jersey cotton sheets were tucked around him in all the right places and his pillow had the perfect indentation for his head, smelling faintly of lavender.  He could hear one of his neighbours get in their car and drive down the narrow residential street.  He heard rain whispering against the window panes, one of his favourite urban noises.  He could hear rain drops falling into the puddles that gathered in the window boxes on his balcony.  He had to remember to bring them in or his herb garden might drown.  He took a deep breath and relished in his peaceful morning haze.

            The something warm began to stir, snuggling closer into Jun’s side.  Jun brought his hand up and threaded his fingers through soft, fluffy hair.  Jun took another deep breath and blinked the sleep away from his eyes.  He looked down at the head of dark chocolate hair and tangle of limbs.  Aiba cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes with both fists, followed by a large yawn. 

            “Goo’ mor’ing.” Aiba’s voice croaked with grogginess.

           “’Morning.”  Jun replied, unravelling himself from Aiba’s embrace to stretch.  Aiba, no longer able to leech Jun’s body heat, pushed himself up into a sitting position.  He tucked his long legs underneath himself and looked to the window.  The half-light filtering under and through the curtains promised nothing but a miserable, rainy spring day.

            Aiba left the bed, poking his head through the curtains, trying to keep as much light out of the bedroom as possible, in case Jun hadn’t decided to emerge from sleep just yet.  The only time Aiba had thrown the curtains wide open without warning or permission resulted in many colourful insults and pillows being aimed at his head.  He looked out the fourth storey window at the grey drizzle.  He whined, just a little.

            “What’s wrong?”  Jun had closed his eyes again, not quite ready to face the day.

            “We were supposed to have a hanami today!  But it’s raining.”  Jun could just hear the pout on Aiba’s face. 

            “We can have one tomorrow, it’s supposed to be nice.”

            “I have to work tomorrow.  And the rain has probably ruined all the flowers.”  Aiba flopped back onto the bed, pillowing his head on Jun’s stomach.  Jun resumed playing with Aiba’s hair. 

            “You never enjoy hanami anyway.  You’re either sneezing your head off or passing out from the antihistamines.  And if you’re on drugs, you can’t drink.  We tried that once, remember?  You said your sinuses felt like exploding from the pressure.” 

            “Yeah… but I like looking at the sakura…” Jun snorted at Aiba’s lame retort.  “What?  I do!”

            “Then look at them from inside and do us all a favour.”  Aiba poked Jun in the side, provoking a tickle fight that lasted a full four minutes and fifty-three seconds.  Aiba finally managed to pin Jun to the mattress by virtue of longer arms and weird flexibility. 

            “It’s Mattsun’s turn to make breakfast.” He breathlessly dropped a short kiss onto the end of Jun’s nose and bounded off to the bathroom, tossing his t-shirt into the laundry basket along the way.  Jun considered staying in bed as he listened to Aiba sing in the shower (“It’s the only time he’s perfectly in key, I swear”) just to be spiteful but his stomach growled loudly in protest.  Shoving his red candy-frame glasses onto his face, bringing the world into focus, Jun shuffled into the kitchen.

            Aiba emerged a short twenty-six minutes later, following the sugary scent that wafted through the apartment.  He perched himself on a stool at the kitchen island and watched Jun create culinary art.  Aiba always looked forward to Jun’s turn to cook breakfast: something inventive and delicious was always on the menu.  Jun ladled batter from a stainless steel bowl into a frying pan on the stove. 

            “Aiba-chan, stop staring.” 

            “I’m not staring, I’m watching.”

            “Well, go watch TV until breakfast is ready.  It’s a surprise.” Jun had uttered the magic word.

            “I love surprises!” Aiba squealed.  As Aiba made his way through the kitchen to the living room, he slipped a hand around Jun’s middle, dipping his fingertips into the waistband of Jun’s sweat pants and pressed a kiss to the back of Jun’s neck.  Then he vaulted over the back of Jun’s new white couch, landing unceremoniously among the cushions. 

            Aiba looked over his shoulder at every commercial break to see how breakfast was coming along.  The anticipation was almost too much for him to bear, as Jun began to set the island with dishes and condiments.  Jun pulled a bottle of orange juice and a small carton of coffee cream from the fridge, placing them next to the butter dish, sugar bowl and imported one hundred percent Canadian maple syrup.  He poured two mugs of coffee and set them next to the empty plates eagerly awaiting food. 

            “Okay, come and get it.” Aiba turned off the TV and tossed the remote onto the empty couch cushions before bouncing to the island to claim his seat.  He was practically vibrating with excitement, the morning’s disappointment clearly forgotten.  Jun couldn’t help but crack a smile.  “Can’t you sit still?  Are you twelve?”

            “Only on the inside.  Otherwise, sleeping with me would be a crime.”  Aiba poured some cream into his coffee and added a half a teaspoon of sugar before tasting it.  Satisfied, he held the warm mug with both hands and blew gently across the surface of the precious golden liquid before taking a slow sip.  Jun turned from the stove carrying a still-hot frying pan; he gently slid a pancake off the flipper onto Aiba’s plate that was shaped like a cherry blossom, with chunks of red strawberries peaking through the toasted surface.

            “There.  Now you can have your hanami.  Without the allergic reaction.”  Jun’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, embarrassed with his gesture of sappiness.  Aiba looked up from the plate and beamed.  His smile was like a flood light on such a dull morning.

            “It’s so cute!  I don’t want to ruin it.”  Jun swatted at Aiba’s head – his disgustingly sweet disposition could only last so long – cuffing the older man around the ear.

            “Idiot!  They’re meant to be eaten, not put on display.  Hurry up; they won’t be any good cold.”

            “But, Jun-tan…”

            “Fine.  I’ll eat yours, then.” Jun reached around the jug of orange juice for Aiba’s plate.

            “No!  I want it!  I’ll eat it.” Aiba smacked Jun’s hand away gently and reached for the syrup, creating a sticky lake on his plate. 

            After a third helping and many exclamations of “Cho umai!” Aiba leaned back on the kitchen stool as far as possible without tipping over and patted his stomach.  “Mattsun makes the best breakfasts.  Look!  I’m having a pancake baby.” He pulled his t-shirt up to poke the exposed tanned abdomen bulging slightly with the sugary meal. 

            “You’re so gross.”  Jun threw the hand towel he had tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants at Aiba.  “I’m going to shower.  You’re on dish patrol.”  He downed the last of his coffee in one gulp and ruffled Aiba’s hair as he passed. 

            Jun opened the curtains in the bedroom, letting the grim daylight flood the room, before straightening the bed and tossing yesterday’s discarded clothes in the laundry basket.  He turned on the shower and let it run until the room was full of steam before stripping off and adjusting the temperature of the water.  He stood under the steady stream, letting the pressure melt away any residual tension left over from the day before.  On this treasured day off, Jun took the time to enjoy his shower rather than rush through his wash, rinse, repeat routine. 

            By the time Jun emerged from the bathroom wrapped snugly in his terrycloth robe, Aiba had finished the dishes and had resumed his post in front of the flat-screen television.  Jun opened his closet doors and surveyed his wardrobe, debating what to wear, before giving up and choosing clean sweat pants and a t-shirt.  He wasn’t going anywhere in this weather.  Jun only managed to get his sweats on before Aiba snuck up and rested his chin on Jun’s shoulder, hands poised lightly on Jun’s hips. 

            “Thank you for breakfast.” Aiba kissed the bare skin of Jun’s shoulder.

            “You’re welcome.”

            “How did you think of sakura pancakes?”

            “Let me have some secrets, will you?” Aiba mumbled acquiescence and nuzzled the crook of Jun’s neck, inhaling the scent of freshly washed skin. 

            “Jun-tan smells nice.” Jun secretly smiled every time Aiba used that stupid Shukudai-kun nickname.  Only in Aiba’s obnoxiously adorable way could it be cute. 

            “Does he, now?” Aiba’s arms glided around the front of Jun’s stomach to encircle the younger man, burying his nose into Jun’s still-damp hair.

            “Jun-tan smells like flowers: my very own field of flowers.” Jun snorted.

            “Okay, that was cheesy, even for you, Aiba-chan.” Aiba tightened his grip on the lithe body.

            “I know, sorry.  It sounded better in my head.” Jun turned in Aiba’s arms and cupped his cheeks with both hands, smooshing Aiba’s face the way one might do a small child’s.

            “Doesn’t everything?”

            Aiba retaliated by pinching Jun’s sensitive (and non-existent) love handles.  Jun squeaked (though he would adamantly deny it later) as Aiba all but threw him onto the freshly-made bed.

            “Okay, enough Stupid Aiba-chan Jokes for one day.”  Aiba sat squarely on Jun’s stomach, pinning Jun’s arms to his sides in the process.  Aiba leaned over and rested his forearms on either side of Jun’s head after removing Jun’s glasses and placing them on the bedside table.

            “Very manly, Aiba-chan.”  Aiba’s face was close enough that Jun didn’t need to squint to bring it into focus.  

            “I can be manly when I want to be.”  Aiba’s voice was rich and dark.  He gazed intently at Jun’s face, examining each inch as if for the first time.  He leaned forward at a glacial pace, stopping millimetres from Jun’s lips.  Aiba’s gaze shifted to those lips that pursed, were wetted, opened slightly, and waited.  Jun began to squirm in impatience.  Aiba clenched his thighs tighter around Jun’s body in a gesture that said, “Don’t rush me.” 

            Aiba proceed to taste every corner of Jun’s mouth at a leisurely pace.  He moved from Jun’s lips to his earlobes, neck, then collarbone.  It was torturous.  And Jun was helpless.  With his arms trapped under Aiba’s legs, he could only reach the skin of Aiba’s calves and that wasn’t enough.  Aiba’s fingers trailed from Jun’s scalp to the skin of his shoulders and upper arms exerting only the barest pressure, so bare that Jun thought he might be imagining it.  As Aiba worked his way over Jun’s chest, he shimmed his hips down until they were hovering over Jun’s crotch.  Jun’s breathing had already hitched with the knowledge and anticipation of what was to come, and Aiba knew he was painfully hard already without having to feel it.  Jun lifted his own hips off the mattress searching for some – any – pressure or friction.  It was Jun’s turn to whine.           

            In another great show of flexibility, Aiba managed to reposition himself between Jun’s legs, pressing deliciously forward.  Jun’s now-free hands snaked under Aiba’s t-shirt, ghosting against bronzed skin.  Aiba made quick work Jun’s recently donned pants and his own clothes followed shortly after.  He reached over and pulled open the drawer of the bedside table, retrieving the bottle of lube hidden within, silencing the Jun’s whining with a forceful kiss.  Spreading the slippery liquid on two fingers of one hand, he teased Jun’s entrance while pressing one of Jun’s knees to his chest with the other.  Aiba inserted a third finger, watching as Jun began to rock against his hand, pressing harder into Aiba searching a faster way to release. 

            Before Jun could utter the words “Just fuck me already”, Aiba replaced his fingers with his cock.  His thrusts were deliberately slow, teasing and worshipful.  He leaned forward to taste Jun’s pulse.  Aiba set the languid rhythm of sweet, vanilla, Love-You-Honey Sex.

            Jun let a moan fall from his lips as Aiba’s breathed into his ear.  “I want… I want you to touch yourself.”  Those words alone were almost enough to make Jun come.  Sliding easily into Aiba’s rhythm, it only took a handful of pulls before Jun was keening.  Aiba pressed in further, thrusting slow but sharply and watching the look of ecstasy on Jun’s face.  Jun’s body clenched tight around Aiba, bringing him to orgasm a few strokes later.  Aiba slumped bonelessly to the mattress, slipping out and rolling to Jun’s side.  They laid in a naked, heaving tangle of limbs while heart rates slowed to a normal pace.

            “Mmmm.”  Jun purred, a silly grin blossoming.



            “What?” Aiba smiled into the skin of Jun’s arm.

            “That was almost as sweet as breakfast.  Almost.  But now I need another shower.  And so do you.”


Translation Note:

Hanami: Literally "Flower viewing", generally refers to cherry blossom viewing.  A.k.a. parties were you get drunk in the park with a bunch of friends when the cherry trees are blooming.
Sakura: Cherry (blossoms)
Cho umai!: Something to the tune of "Really good/delicious".  Often heard on Arashi no Shukudai-kun. :D
Tags: #one-shot, p: aiba/jun, r: nc-17, x: smut
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