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ciirceeRequest: I'm looking to switch out some icons. I've got a few Uta no Oniisan icons that I found but if somebody wants to link me to more that would be awesome. Also: Voice. And maybe Yamada Tarou. Or just anything else you think is awesome or would be funny if I used becuase I don't know crap about it.
But mostly it's that I love my husband and am proud of his dorkery. Because Edward asked me the other night when we could watch 'the next set' of Yamada Tarou. When I told him that ten episodes were it he was all 'wth?' and then he asked which other show had more than one Arashi member in it. Again, he was put out to hear that there was not such a thing available to him. He was only slightly mollified by the news that Sho will turn up in UnO episode seven.
And he HATES AKANE. It is not just women who dislike her and what she is doing to Kenta. His thing is that she won't let Kenta move on because she can't move on. He says it's clear that Kenta can nmove on and let go of her and she's just not letting him because things are finally getting really tough for HER. He says he thinks Akane wants to quit the band (or, upon closer questioning, get the band to quit doing what they are now) and that it would be easy for her to use Kenta to do that (ie. Kenta needs to be back in the band or we quit. OR you made us kick him out and now we're quitting) and that she'd end up blaming him later (because of course he would have to quit the show to do this).
Slowly, my husband is becoming a total Arashi fan AND a Jdrama fan: he's actually watching Voice with me. He wants to know when somebody is going to attack Daiki with a comb and he wants to watch Mei-chan (Tendou! he said. Me: Yup. Him: He should go get Kagami from medical school.)
Now for some RANDOM: Tokuyama Hidenori continues to be a huge dork. He made his mom take pictures of him giving his dogs a shower. His birthday was last month and he ended up spending time with Satou Yuuki, Kato Kazuki, and Uchiyama Masato. He hangs out with the Kamen Rider cast on occasion. That makes me laugh. Mostly I was happy that I recognized Kato WITHOUT THE HAT. PS. I really sort of want Eroica's CD.
But now! Fic! It is unmitigated Ohmiya fluff, I'm afraid. Plus, I think you should all go to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fivesomeaday and ohmiyaday and read all the fics. SRS AWESOME, PEOPLE.
Heart-shaped
Ohno is nineteen when he buys his first box of Valentine's chocolate. He's supposed to be getting cup of coffee and joining his bandmates at a photoshoot but the little store next to the coffee shop has caught his eye and he's gone in without thinking. He's struck by the sheer number of choices crammed into such a small place. There are so many boxes and it is unexpectedly a bit scary.
He knows all the red and pink packages—it's not like he's never gotten Valentine's chocolates of his own—but they seem foreign and unfamiliar under his hands when he reaches out for them. It's different when he wants them to give to somebody else. The satin covers are slick and shiny and strange beneath the pad of his index finger as he touches them, the edges too sharp.
Boys don't buy Valentine's chocolates.
"Picking out the ones you hope to get?" Nino's voice asks in his ear as Nino's chin settles itself—bony and pointed—on his shoulder.
He doesn't know how else to say it.
"I—" Ohno drags his finger over the corner and down the other side of the box on the shelf. "They look tasty," he says.
He's been thinking about this for days.
"They do look tasty," Nino agrees.
If he waits another, it'll be too late.
He turns his head and meets Nino's eyes. The sunlight slanting through the shop gives Nino's eyes a honey-brown cast, tips the edges of his eyelashes gold. "What kind do you like?"
Nino's eyes widen and then crinkle up as his laugh warms against Ohno's cheek. "I like food I don't have to buy," he says, "so any of them!"
Ohno picks up the little red box that he'd been considering and takes it to the register. Nino's chin is back on his shoulder by the time the girl behind the counter finishes wrapping it. Ohno doesn't want to dislodge him so he is careful as he fishes the little box back out of the bag.
The movement is so simple; the whole moment is so ordinary.
"Here," he says.
Somehow all of it seems so easy.
"Idiot," Nino says, grinning, his hand coming up and covering Ohno's over the box. "That's honmei chocolate."
Plus I'm a boy, Ohno thinks as his pulse picks up speed just to the right of where Nino's fingers are resting against his wrist. But if Nino's not going to mention that, and if Nino's not going to mention the way his heart is racing, then neither is he. "That's all right," he says instead. "I like Nino."
The girl behind the counter squeaks in shock and Nino ends up laughing so hard that he cries, but Ohno notices that Nino's hand is still around his as they tumble out of the little shop.
Ohno wonders if he'll get White Day returns.
PS. Now with White Day returns.
AND
Valentine's Day
Valentine's Day starts with Ohno letting himself into Nino's apartment. He half expects Nino to meet him in the genkan but it's early, so early, and Nino doesn't. Ohno skips bothering with house slippers, just steps out of his shoes and his stocking-covered feet make little whispers as he navigates the dark apartment to Nino's bathroom.
He more than half expects for Nino to join him in the shower, scrubbing himself and waiting for the soapy slide of wet arms around his middle, the flush of contact all along his back. He's waiting for Nino's sleep-soft voice to offer to wash his back for him, his hair. It doesn't come and he's almost disappointed by that as he snaps the shower off and reaches for a towel. He dries himself and leaves the bathroom still naked and still scrubbing a towel over his hair and thinks that it's actually hard to be really disappointed because…
Because the pre-dawn light and the last of the streetlights are illumination enough to see Nino asleep in his bed, his face half buried in the pillow he's hugging. Ohno can see that kittenish little smile of his curving his lips just so and it's impossible to wish that Nino had come to the door or the shower. He can feel himself start to harden as he crosses the room to where Nino is. Ohno sits down on the bed inside the curl of Nino's body and touches the corner of his mouth, tracing the edge of happiness.
"Nino," he says quietly, at last. "I'm here."
Nino doesn't move beyond a slight frown wrinkling its way across his brow.
Ohno wipes the line away with his thumb and then runs his thumb over the eyebrow that isn't buried in Nino's pillow, smoothing it. Nino is an untidy sleeper, everything about him mussed and rumpled and messy. Ohno touches his ear, his cheek, his chin. "Nino, it's Valentine's Day," he says insistently.
In the bed, Nino grunts and rolls over, pulling the blankets over his head. Ohno doesn't mind; he doesn't need Nino to be awake, just to make room. He lifts the blankets and slides underneath, fitting himself against Nino's back. Ohno discovers that Nino is wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants, both so old that they've lost their shape and are skin-soft. Ohno puts his lips at the nape of Nino's neck and trails a hand over Nino's side, feeling Nino's warmth through the thin shirt.
Nino smells like soap and sleep, the clean-soap scent stronger than the sleeping-Nino scent. Ohno curls his hand over the crest of Nino's hip when he reaches it. The odds that Nino's night had been as long as Ohno's, that his filming ran late, are very good. They're both tired and the world beneath Nino's blanket is full of sleepy promises. Ohno is already half-hard but it's ignorable, something he can fall asleep with without having to take care of it. It's what he should do. He should let Nino sleep, let them both sleep. Except…
Except it's Valentine's Day. Ohno drags his hand back up Nino's side, up under the shirt. The heat of Nino's skin is more immediate and Ohno can feel the shirt bunching as he pushes it away, already getting cold. "Nino," he murmurs, blowing gently on the delicate skin beneath his lips. "Nino, it's Valentine's Day." He strings tiny kisses from the nape of Nino's neck to the curve of his shoulder, pulling the shapeless, stretched-out collar of Nino's shirt out of his way as he goes. "Valentine's Day, Nino," he repeats, ending the last kiss by touching the tip of his tongue to Nino's skin. He goes back for a slightly longer lick, a little bit more of that taste. "Nino."
Nino makes a soft sound which Ohno thinks sounds vaguely questioning—or at least vaguely more awake.
"It's Valentine's Day," Ohno says again. He strokes down Nino's side and then up again, pressing a little, a little more present. "I'm here," he tells him. He tips his hand from Nino's side to his chest, just touching. He can feel Nino's nipples, softer than the surrounding skin; they're not hard yet. It makes his breath catch at the back of his throat. "I'm kind of horny."
"Hmm," says Nino. He rolls over a little, pressing back against Ohno's chest and he moves to accommodate him, ending up half over Nino who then says, "Satoshi?" He is blurring the syllables into an unforgivable mess but Ohno thinks it's cute. And a little sexy. He likes Nino's rough, half-hushed voice.
"Kazunari," he says by way agreement. He fans his fingers over Nino's skin, feeling it tighten. He closes his fingers gently on one nipple, tugging lightly, gently. It makes Nino shiver and Ohno pushes himself closer. Nino's body is not exactly comfortable, there's no fat to really pad it out, but it feels so good and Ohno just doesn't care. "I'm trying to get your shirt off," he tells Nino as he moves his hand up and up to touch the hollow of his throat.
"Mmm," Nino hums and that's definitely a sound of agreement.
Ohno catches the hem of Nino's t-shirt and pulls. Nino stretches under him, back bowing up from the bed just long enough for Ohno to get the shirt clear. Nino's arms come down, sliding out of the sleeves, and Ohno abandons the t-shirt somewhere between the bed and the floor. He cups the back of Nino's head and kisses him. He doesn't bother with the niceties, the little 'hello, how are you' touches, just slicks his tongue over Nino's lower lip, nips it when Nino is slow in opening to him, and takes the heat of his mouth as deeply as he can.
From the lazy way that Nino kisses him back, Ohno guesses that Nino is about eighteen percent awake.
Maybe twenty, he amends. Nino is moving under him just a little. Just enough so that Ohno's leg ends up slotted neatly between Nino's and Ohno himself is straddling Nino's own thigh. Ohno pushes into it, bringing his knee up and he tastes Nino's moan on his tongue. "I'm trying to get your pants off, too," he says into Nino's mouth.
Nino's 'mmm' is a little bit grumpy sounding.
Ohno kisses him on the shoulder, over his heart, just above his bellybutton. "You only have to lift up for a second," he promises. Nino doesn't move at all apart from his hands drifting up to settle heavy and sleepy in Ohno's hair. This is not an entirely unexpected turn of events and so Ohno simply dips his head, rubbing his cheek firmly over the bulge in the front of Nino's pajamas pants.
Nino's gasp is sharp and sudden and his whole body moves to follow the lost breath, up and up and up. Ohno works quickly, slipping one hand into Nino's pants, keeping Nino's erection from snagging on the waistband, while his other hand jerks the pants down. He manages to get the back down to the tops of Nino's thighs before Nino melts back into the mattress. Nino's hands are tight in his hair, pushing, directing, demanding. Ohno ignores him, slides out of his hands despite the pull in his hair, and settles over him. He holds Nino down with the weight of his body and kisses him quiet again.
They've both agreed that when they're with girls, tuna is fine. With women, tuna is definitely, definitely the way to go. When they're with each other, however… Well, they're both men; they might as well fuck like it. And it's good that way, both of them going after exactly what they want, not needing to read what the other is asking for (though they can, they do, it's easy when it's them), and having the freedom to come first if they want since they don't care about the polite 'let's clean up' nonsense. They end up stuck together a lot but the pornographic quality of their sex generally makes up for the lost pubic hairs.
But there are times when Ohno craves this, wants Nino pliant and soft and sleepy beneath him. Nino is not the only one with a bit of a fetish about blurred gender lines; he's just more obvious about it. Nino likes boys dressed like girls, likes all that pretty wrapping; Ohno likes the feeling of Nino boy-hard in the cradle of his hips but needy and still like a girl in his arms.
"Satoshi," Nino breathes under him. His hands flutter butterfly-light over Ohno's shoulders, just brushing, not settling. He makes soft sounds in the back of his throat; Ohno slides his palm over Nino's neck so he can feel them. "Satoshi."
"Kazunari," he returns, brushing the name over the shell of Nino's ear, brushing his cock over Nino's, holding his hips too far away for more than a tease.
Nino lifts his chin and Ohno takes the hint, kissing his way down the long, awkward, lovely line of his neck. He keeps going, down over the jut of his collarbone, scattering across his chest. Ohno has a thing for nipples in general and for Nino's in particular and Nino's are not soft now. They're peaked and pretty and Ohno takes one between his teeth and bites, just a little bit less than gently. Nino's hands light on his shoulders. "Oh," he sighs.
"I'll give you anything," Ohno promises and he means it sincerely. He kisses the nipple he's just used his teeth on and then keeps moving, dusting light kisses everywhere he goes. Nino stays lax and lazy under his mouth and hands.
Lower and lower he moves, following Nino's body under the sheets, everything dark and drowsy. He finds Nino hot and hard and waiting for him, already a little slick at the tip. Above him, above the blankets, Nino is murmuring to himself. A soft and steady litany of 'oh, oh, oh's. Ohno licks him slowly, root to tip with the broad flat of his tongue, and listens as Nino's voice fractures, breaks, falls apart.
He settles in for it, for this whole 'sucking Nino' thing. He can't remember the last time that they could take time and today that's exactly what they have and exactly what he's going to do. He's pinning Nino's legs to the bed with his weight, helped out by Nino's pajama bottoms that he left somewhere around Nino's knees, and licks Nino again. He doesn't really need to hold him down, Nino is still mostly sleeping, but he likes knowing that if Nino tries to hurry things up, he won't be able to.
Ohno likes everything about this act; he loves the way Nino's body tightens and the way Nino's words get looser. He likes the solid, musky scent that fills the world between Nino's thighs and he likes that salt-bitter-sharp taste piquant on his tongue. There's something heavy and rich about the way it comes together and some of Ohno's more intricate designs are his memories of this and the way he thinks it should look in paint.
Getting lost in Nino is easy. Getting lost in sex is easy. Ohno isn't surprised at all that his jaw hurts by the time he notices that Nino is saying his name. He lifts his head, letting his mouth linger in a slow drag, and also takes note of the fact that Nino has folded down the blankets enough so that Ohno is no longer cocooned in them. "Nino?" he asks. His lips feel bruised, sensitive.
Nino looks like he is still more than half asleep. "Fuck me?"
If he's asking, Ohno figures Nino might possibly be on the more awake side of half-asleep. He slides up Nino's body and kisses his heavy-lidded eyes, and then the moles on his cheek. "All the stuff is still in your dresser," he says apologetically. It's way too late to get out of bed now, he thinks. He presses their hips together and draws in a short, choppy breath at the way they fit, like they were made as two halves of one whole. Nino is still wet from his mouth. "Come here," he says on the exhale, one arm curving under Nino's body to pull his hips up harder against him.
Nino makes a dissatisfied whine, a little noise caught low in the back of his throat.
Ohno knows he shouldn't laugh at him but he can't help it. He always thinks that Nino is cute when he's being a bratty kid. "Nino." He kisses the point of his chin, the tip of his nose. "Come here, Nino," he sing-songs.
A faint scowl threads its way across Nino's face. "Oh-chan," he says. He might look petulant but his hips roll up to meet Ohno's and his arms loop around his neck. "Oh-chan," his next breath is a ragged-ended sigh and Ohno kisses him as he starts to move.
He sets a slow pace. He wants it that way and Nino is still blurry with sleep and he wants that, too. Ohno likes the way Nino's breath goes short and thin as he rubs their cocks together. He can't leave a mark but sets his mouth against the delicate place under Nino's ear anyway, sucking lightly as he drags his body away. "Want it," he whispers, reaching between them to adjust the both. He pushes forward again, steady, steady. "Want it," he repeats.
Nino arches under him, one leg curling high on Ohno's hip. "Fuck me." His head tips back, his Adam's apple prominent under the skin. Ohno moves his lips to it, tasting the gloss of sweat there, and pulls Nino's hips up. "Fuck me," he says again and Ohno feels the words tremble under his tongue.
"Want to," he admits breathlessly. He has a sense-memory of sliding into Nino's body, the tight heat and the way it makes Nino moan and writhe and it burns in his brain as he rocks faster against the burn of Nino's body. "Nino."
"Fuck me," Nino moans and his fingers are hard on Ohno's shoulders, his body shaking.
The desperation is getting to him, no matter how much he wants to hold off. He bucks against Nino, feeling the way their cocks line up side-by-side, the way the short, coarse curls that frame Nino are almost too sharp against his skin. It's too much. "Nino," he can barely form the word, loses the sound into Nino's shoulder as he bites at the sweet skin there.
"Please," Nino begs, his fingers scrabbling for purchase, biting in deep. Ohno feels it only in the most distant of ways as he comes wet and messy between them, all but sobbing with it, feeling Nino's body shuddering frantically under him as the world dissolves into pleasure.
It's only as he wakes up that Ohno realizes that he has fallen asleep. There is sunlight in the room and a wet-haired Nino is sitting beside him on the bed, resting a hot cup of coffee on the back of his naked shoulder and then lifting it away, sipping, and setting it down again. It's a very uncomfortable heat.
"'s hot," he tells Nino, rolling over when Nino lifts the mug again.
"Serves you right," Nino replies, his voice echoing into the cup as he drinks.
Ohno hisses as Nino sets the coffee down over his left nipple. "I'm…sorry?" he tries. Nino lets him lift the cup and roll over enough to set it on the bedside table. He yawns and wriggles down in the blankets. "What'd I do?"
Nino leans over and gives him a coffee-flavored kiss. "You mean aside from forgetting the condoms, coming all over me, and falling asleep on me without getting me off?" he asks as he sits back up.
"Yeah."
"You left my pants around my ankles and I nearly died getting out of bed to make you breakfast."
"There's breakfast?" Ohno asks, pushing Nino back so that he can sit up himself. "What kind of breakfast?"
"French toast, but only if you shower," Nino tells him. "I think you're sticking to my sheets and you smell like you came all over yourself."
Ohno clambers out of the bed, naked and with dried, itchy patches of come on himself. "I came all over you," he reminds him, scratching.
Nino throws a towel at him. "Well, shower anyway; I plan on raping you for breakfast."
"Yum," Ohno says and wanders out.
The French toast is a syrupy, golden brown when Ohno gets out of the shower and Nino is putting glasses of milk next to the coffee cups and the French toast. He's slouching around in his ratty Pika☆nchi 'Ninomiya' t-shirt and an even rattier pair of sweatpants.
"Sexy," Ohno opines.
Nino looks up.
Ohno is wearing the most disreputable pair of sweats that Nino happens to own and a threadbare, holey t-shirt that proclaims that he 'got lei'd in Hawaii'.
"I can see where I should have dressed up," Nino says as he sits down at the low table.
Ohno takes the seat next to him and grins. "You should always dress classy when you're going to rape somebody for breakfast. People will think badly of you if you don't."
Nino's laugh—the one he doesn't use for television if he can possibly, possibly help it—is one of the least idol star-like sounds Ohno has ever heard and it never fails to make him happy. Something somewhere deep inside of himself lights up whenever he can make Nino forget himself enough to laugh like that so he really can't help but lean over and kiss him.
He means to keep it light, just a little kiss, just a brush of lips because he's happy, but Nino's lips part softly under his and it's impossible to turn away from Nino's gentleness. His mouth opens for Nino and his eyes flutter shut. It stays simple—just parted lips moving together in tiny, sipping kisses—until the whole world seems hazy, lazy, and indistinct. Ohno moves closer, cups Nino's head in his hands, holding him, and he feels Nino's breathing hitch around a long sigh. A second later and the tip of Nino's tongue is touching his lip and Ohno lets him in with a sigh of his own.
Truthfully, he's a little surprised to find himself flat on his back with Nino on his chest when he opens his eyes again. Nino is grinning at him. "Oh-chan," he says authoritatively, "is easy."
"I'm not even drunk," he agrees. "Is breakfast cold?"
"Of course not," Nino says, crawling off of him. "I'm not going to let my hard work go to waste just so that I can take advantage of you. I have all day for that." Nino holds a knife and fork out to him and Ohno pushes himself back up. "Tell me it's tasty," Nino orders.
"Everything Nino makes is tasty," Ohno says as he cuts and then he has to stop, fork halfway to his mouth, to watch the way Nino's ears and cheeks go pink and the way that Nino's chin dips as he turns suddenly bashful. "You're so cute!" he tells Nino enthusiastically. Sometimes Nino is like one of those girls who acts boldly but is privately shy, the sort of girl who acts like she's unbothered but secretly takes everything to heart. Nino, Ohno thinks, would be the sort of girl a guy would spend a lifetime being grateful that he'd married.
Sometimes Ohno thinks that Nino really can read his mind because Nino's hands brush over his cheeks, smoothing the blush away, and Nino's eyes get that steely look and he points his fork at Ohno meaningfully. "Rape," he reminds him.
"Right."
Breakfast really is delicious as well as being comfortably silent. So much of their lives involve sound—the sound of the music, the screams of the fans, the click of the cameras, the instructions from their staff—that being quiet together is one of the most relaxing activities that they can indulge in. Besides, the brush of Nino's knee and elbow against his own says enough that the words would just be noise.
Nino takes their dirty dishes to the sink and makes cleaning-up noises and Ohno slumps across the table, thinking of nothing more than having the whole day to just himself and Nino and the quiet. He thinks of how rare it is that they both have the same day off and how much rarer it is that Nino's mother has planned to be away from home for the entire day. In ten years, he and Nino have managed to have a Valentine's Day about four times and so far none of them—with the exception of today—have been remotely close to the date the calendar calls Valentine's Day. He's beginning to think that they should have gone with Nino's initial suggestion of 'Leap Day'.
"Mm, Oh-chan really is too easy," Nino says suddenly, startlingly, right against the shell of his ear. The weight of Nino's wiry little body is suddenly heavy across his back. "Anybody could take advantage of him."
Ohno feels a finger poke through one of the holes in his borrowed shirt and feels a second sort of poke at the dip of his spine. He turns his head so that he can see Nino's face. "What, really?" he asks, wiggling his hips to illustrate his question. He knows Nino and knows very well that 'three times in thirty minutes' is well beyond Nino's capabilities.
Nino nips his cheek. "In making the choice between breathing and coming I sort of lost the mood."
"You want me to apologize?" Ohno asks. He doesn't care about the answer; Nino's hand fussing at the waistband of his sweats is much more interesting. Ohno isn't sure if he's really up for sex but he doesn't mind at all if Nino wants to use him.
"I want you on your knees," Nino murmurs and Ohno feels his hands turn firm at his hips, urging him to move, positioning him the way he wants him.
He's barely settled when Nino tugs the pants down to his knees and runs his hands back up his thighs. His hands vanish and Ohno hears the sounds of more clothes being pushed aside. "All this time?" he wonders out loud, feeling a little more apologetic now. He probably would have jumped Nino's unconscious body back in the bed. Point of fact, he thinks, he sort of did that anyhow.
"You kept licking your fork," Nino tells him.
"It wasn't on purpose." He says it, but it's not a protest.
"And when you were sucking on it?"
"…that maybe was."
Given the fact that they're in the kitchen, Ohno is expecting Nino to simply slip between his thighs, or else just press tight against him, using the shallow cleft of his ass in substitution. He is not expecting the wet, slightly sticky touch that precedes one of Nino's fingers sliding into him. "I hope that's not syrup," he says.
Upon closer inspection of that thought, though, he's not sure that it actually matters. He has always loved Nino's fingers.
"Don't be gross, Oh-chan," Nino says and Ohno thinks that he's trying to laugh except his voice is half low-moan. "Some of us plan ahead and bring the things we're going to need with us."
Nino is teasing at using two fingers and Ohno pushes back to let him know it's okay, arching in invitation. "I guess that's why Taka is the pretty one," he says, letting out a breath as Nino pushes and he adjusts. "You can go ahead," he says when Nino's only response is something suspiciously whimper-like. They've done this so often that rushing things a little won't really bother him later and, even if he is a little uncomfortable, the only thing he has on his schedule for the next day is some recording.
"When you're ready," Nino's voice is steady but Ohno can feel the way the rest of him is shaking, the way each breath is quavering as it ghosts over his skin, the unmindful way Nino is sucking at the nape of his neck.
He reaches back, finding Nino's wrist with a clumsy grip, pulling his hand away. "I'm ready," he says. He brings Nino's hand forward to where he's hard, curling those still-slick fingers around him.
Ohno tends to forget that Nino is left handed until Nino is cursing against him and fumbling between them right-handed. "Just hold on," Nino pants into his neck. "I just have to… just let me…"
The only thing he can do is keep his hand linked with Nino's and hold on and let him. He holds still and breathes and lets him, lets him, lets him. Nino shoves into him, hard and fast. It's hard but it doesn't hurt. It's rough, but Ohno is not—and has never been—the delicate type.
Nino's pace is feverish, uneven, and Ohno thinks that he could probably come just from this, just from the way Nino is out of control. He squeezes his hand around Nino's on his cock and pulls, groaning under his breath at the feeling. He loves Nino's hands, loves them.
"Don't," Nino gasps into his shoulder. "Don't. I can't—"
That's right, Ohno thinks, that's right; Nino likes to touch things. Nino's tactile nature is easy to forget when half of the time their skinship is for play or fan service. He bites his lip and moves their joined hands faster, stroking harder. "More," he says.
"I can't—"
Ohno knows full well that he's being pushy and unfair. He's pretty sure that Nino will thank him for it later. He pushes back hard into Nino's next thrust, squeezing their hands over the head of his cock so that they both gasp with it.
"Fuck," Nino whispers and the ragged rhythm breaks into one, two, three more hard thrusts and then Nino is shattering against him, inside of him, whimpering into him and Ohno holds them both up until Nino finishes going to pieces and begins to put himself back together.
When Nino's hand over his cock twitches, Ohno gives himself one last stroke with both of their hands and then pulls them both away, brining Nino's hand up so that he can kiss his palm. "I'm good," he says. He follows Nino down when he slumps to the floor, fitting himself against Nino as Nino spoons around him. Nino's arm settles around his waist and his hand settles back over Ohno's cock, cupping it warmly as he begins to soften.
Ohno listens to the sound of their breathing until Nino makes a tiny sound of irritation. Then he rolls to his feet, pulls his pants up just enough so that he won't trip over himself, and heads for the bath room. He wipes himself up quickly and gets a fresh washcloth for Nino.
Back in the kitchen, Nino has taken care of his condom and is staring at the ceiling. "You cheat," he says and Ohno takes that as his cue to kneel down and clean him off.
"You like it," he says, rubbing circles over Nino's abdomen just to watch the way the hair there swirls into little curls. He flips the cloth, folds it, and swipes it over the insides of Nino's thighs.
"It's too early," Nino mutters with a yawn. "I blame you."
"Okay." Ohno folds the washcloth again and then sets it aside so he can wriggle Nino's pants back up over Nino's slim hips. "You want to go back to bed?"
Nino nods and together they stumble back to his mussed-up bed and tumble in to it, together.
The sun through the window is bright and butter-rich when Ohno wakes up again. Nino is curled into his side, half on top of him, warm and heavy. He already has one hand in the soft strands of Nino's hair. It's comfortable and content in the bed.
So of course he sort of has to pee.
"I hear you up there," Nino mumbles into his chest. He moves, propping himself up on an elbow. His eyes are dark and sleep-lidded as he looks down at him, his lips hinting at his sly smile. "The first person to get out of bed has to start cleaning up out there."
There's no contest: Nino has a bladder like a camel and he's stubborn. "It's your house," Ohno pouts as he gets up.
Nino lies back on the bed and laughs at him and Ohno remembers again why he thinks it's cute when Nino is a willful brat.
Even though he complains about it, there is not actually much cleaning to do. Nino is a tidy cook when he's cooking at home (and not in front of a film crew) and so the washing up there is minimal. He didn't come and Nino used a condom and so Ohno only makes a cursory pass over the table and an even more perfunctory swipe at the floor beside it.
Still, he gives Nino a sour look when he passes through the living room to bring the lube back to the bedroom. "You suck," he says as he comes back.
Nino gives him a glancing smile as the DS in his hands make a triumphant sound. "Maybe later," he says, going back to his game.
Ohno punches him on the shoulder and then pushes his way onto the sofa, wiggling around until Nino is tucked into the space between his legs, leaning back against him. Nino makes a few wiggles of his own and then produces the television remote control and offers it to him. "Preference?" Ohno asks him as he takes it.
"Mm, whatever you want is fine," Nino mutters, focused on his game.
The greatest thing about daytime television is the fact that there is always a fishing show on somewhere. Ohno finds one easily. "Hata and Ono are going head-to-head," he tells the dark, messy hair tucked under his chin.
"Good to know," mutters Nino. "I just got the Zenithian shield."
"Very handy for fishing," Ohno assures him. He rubs his smile over Nino's hair, feeling peaceful all the way through. They don't get to do this often, relax like this with no plans and no worries and no expectations. As much as he might want to go fishing, he wants to sit on Nino's couch with Nino, the both of them doing their own thing and treating each other like furniture, even more.
Hata catches a black bass on the television and Ohno settles in for the day.
There was once the working theory in Johnny's that Nino was genetically part sloth. After four and a half fishing shows, Ohno is a little bored. Nino, on the other hand, is still intensely focused on his DS.
At least, Ohno thinks, he's got that Zenithian helmet now.
Still, as much as he might be bored with the television, that doesn't mean that he wants to disturb Nino. Disturbing Nino is a good way to make Nino cranky and unwilling to handle making lunch. The trick is to pull Nino's attention slowly but surely to himself and the fact that the t.v. is boring and it's nearly lunch time. Ohno starts poking around in the couch cushions. The sounds of loose change usually make Nino interested in where it's coming from and, if he gives Nino the money he finds, Nino will get off the couch to put it in his change jar. He doesn't find any change but he does find a ballpoint pen. A working one. He has always—even when they were both teenagers—thought that Nino has pretty skin.
Uncapping the pen with his teeth, Ohno pushes Nino's sleeve up to bare his shoulder. Nino barely twitches and Ohno drops the cap back into the cushions so that he can kiss Nino's shoulder in thanks. Then he begins. He starts with a large heart, since it's Valentine's Day (for them and for everybody else) and then he makes a chain of open-ended hearts, linking them back and back upon themselves until, somehow, they begin to look like fish scales. He brings the scale-hearts down Nino's arm, parting them like a large, elaborate tail-fin around Nino's elbow.
Nino makes a disgruntled noise as Ohno moves his arm up so that he can make the other side of the tail but subsides once Ohno lets his arm down again.
The DS makes an ominous battle sound and Ohno gives it a dirty look before tracing in swirls and streams to mark the fish's path over Nino's skin. He frames out the whole fish that way and then realizes that he forgot to give the fish a face. There's just a fish body with a heart where the head should be. He goes back to add gills.
"Is it fish?" Nino asks as the game makes an oh-no-you-died noise.
"It started as a heart," Ohno tells him, ignoring the click of the DS closing. "With a fish body."
He picks the point of the pen up and lets Nino twist to look at his arm. "It looks like a weird biker tattoo," Nino tells him. "Did you want something in particular or was I just handy?"
"You were handy," Ohno tells him, dropping the pen to the floor. "And I thought tantan-men would be nice." He smoothes his thumb over Nino's tail. "Do you have any markers?" he asks, fanning his fingers out.
Nino brings his elbow up and his lips are sweet against Ohno's fingers. "No, but we can go get some and while we're out you can get some tantan-men and treat me to ie-kei."
Who can say 'no' to markers and two different kinds of ramen? He pulls Nino to his feet and drags him towards the bedroom, just to hear him laugh while they get dressed.
He says, "Nino is such a good girlfriend, wanting to go shopping together on Valentine's Day," just to make Nino screech and chase him out the door, both of their scarves streaming out behind them as they make a mad dash down the stairs and out into the world.
In some ways, Ohno reflects, it almost feels like filming a montage scene for a drama. They go for lunch and fish noodles out of each other's bowls, laughing as they pretend to defend against each other. After lunch they get on the trains to go to the shopping district, standing together and swaying as the train moves them. They wander from shop to shop, Nino poking at the different colors and holding different brands side-by-side while Ohno steps back to compare them. Ohno gets drawn into a deep discussion with the little old grandma behind the counter at one place and Nino gets bored and leaves and Ohno doesn't find him again until he visits every game store in a three block radius.
They don't hold hands. Holding hands would stand out, catch people's eyes, and draw attention to who they are. Instead they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, plucking at each other's coat sleeves if they need to get attention. Nino adjusts Ohno's scarf for him once or twice, his dark eyes solemn and sweet. Ohno steals Nino's hat and wears it around as they walk past the park, taking the long way back to Nino's building.
The sun is just starting to set, the light turning rose-tinted and dear.
Most probably it's the right sort of time to get a melancholy feeling, Ohno thinks. But he's busy being happy and, if experience has shown anything, it's that Nino will get emo if the situation really calls for it.
But Nino is taking his sweater off as they kick out of their shoes at the door. "Is it going to be too much of a hassle for you if I play guitar while you color me in?"
Even if it would be, it's not something he'll say. "Are you working on lyrics or on music?" he asks by way of answer. He sits down on the floor while Nino gets his guitar and settles in beside him.
Nino adjusts the tuning pegs, strums, and adjusts them again. "Music," he says absently. "It's really early yet. I'm just trying stuff out."
Ohno takes his new blue marker out of the box and sets it on Nino's forearm. "Okay," he says quietly. The muscles in Nino's arm shift under his skin and the first notes of something that Ohno know will one day become Nino's next solo drift lightly out.
The marker moves, the sunlight slants in through the windows, and Ohno thinks that he can practically see the music on the air, like dust motes and cherry blossom petals. He changes markers and keeps drawing as Nino changes from the new song to an older one that Ohno's heard on the radio before. He starts to sing along as the scales fill with color.
The flat of Nino's hand on the strings makes everything stop for a moment and Ohno caps the marker and puts it back in the box. He's ready when Nino sets the guitar down and pulls him to his feet, leading him silently to the shower.
He watches Nino watch the way the maker and ink fade under the spray, running off of his skin in a mud-hued mix. He can feel Nino's eyes on him as he lathers a washcloth with soap and rubs at the leftover ink until the only remnants of the day's art project is the reddish, well-scrubbed patches of skin from shoulder to forearm. He's ready for Nino when Nino lets go and kisses him.
It's a demanding kiss, full of teeth and tongues and Nino's strangely furious desperation. Ohno meets him with equal strength, pushing back before he pulls away. "Not in the shower," he says. The last time they tried to do it in the shower his back had taken three days to quit protesting it and Nino had gotten a bruise on his butt that was roughly the size and shape of the shower nozzle. Besides, all the condoms are in the bedroom.
They kiss the few steps from the shower to Nino's room, from the doorway to the bed, and then Ohno shoves Nino bodily away, so that Nino lands hard on the bed behind him, looking up at him with deep, deep eyes. The lube, which had been sitting by the pillows, rolls down to land against Nino's thigh. "Get yourself ready," Ohno tells him and goes to get them both condoms from the top drawer of Nino's dresser.
When he turns around again, Nino is on his back, legs spread, and watching him. He's seen Nino do this before, but it still takes his breath away to watch and he has to watch. Has to. Can't not. He watches from across the room at first, until he can't resist the pull anymore, and then kneeling between Nino's legs, his attention divided between Nino's hands and Nino's body and Nino's heartbreaking face.
"You're such a romantic," he says when Nino reaches for him and he lets himself be pulled down into Nino's arms, into his body. They fit together. Like they were made as two halves of one whole.
Nino tries to hide, draping one arm over his eyes even as his legs curve high against Ohno's sides, but he doesn't fight it when Ohno takes his hand, pulling his arm away, pinning both of them to the bed. He breathes out a quavering sigh and says, "Satoshi."
There's a reason Nino rarely calls him that, rarely even uses it when he talks about him. It's because Nino, for all of his acting and all of his reserve, can be terribly transparent. Ohno pulls out, pushes in, letting the beat of his heart set the pace of his body. "Tell me," he tells Nino.
Nino arches under him, shaking his head. Their fingers slide together.
"Tell me," Ohno says again. He wants to kiss him.
He can't. He can't because under him Nino is still saying no, his body still driving up against him as their fingers lace together tighter and tighter.
"Nino." He can feel everything slipping; the sun toward the horizon, himself toward the edge, Nino toward him. "Nino, tell me."
Beneath him, Nino breaks and the words form soundlessly on his lips. "I love you," said silently between them.
Trust Nino, Ohno thinks, to be so very formal and so absolutely serious at a moment like this. "Romantic," he says again and then he presses their foreheads together and gives the words back to Nino, not quite as soundlessly, filling up the small space between their mouths just before he kisses him.
"You want to know something?" Nino asks a long time later.
Ohno looks up from tying his shoes and lets Nino wrap his scarf around his neck for him. "What's that?"
Nino smiles, crooked and serene. "If we did this every day we'd end up killing each other."
"With sex?"
Snorting, Nino helps him into his coat. "I guess that might kill us first," he allows. "But if it doesn't, we'll still end up killing each other."
"That's why our managers won't let us move in together," he jokes. It's the funnier part of the truth, at any rate.
"Yours just thinks I won't let you out of bed or that I'll stick my hand in your pants on live television," Nino tells him, giving him a quick kiss. "Mine's worried that they'll never find the body."
"I'd use your body as an art exhibit," Ohno promises him, kissing him on the cheek. "I'd call it something important like 'Fishing Again'."
Nino snickers. "If you put a fish hook through anything important I'll haunt you forever."
"And that's why we only do this on Valentine's Day," Ohno finishes.
They smile at each other, nuzzling together for one more moment. "See you on Monday," Nino says, stepping back.
"Monday," he agrees and steps out the door.
Valentine's Day doesn't end with the door closing between them. On the way home, half way between the train station and the house, Ohno sticks his hands in his pockets and discovers a small, red-and-white box of chocolates in his pocket. He texts Nino asking if he owes him a gift for White Day and Nino texts him back saying that he owes him big for it. Valentine's Day ends when they decide what constitutes White Day and when that's coming up on their own personal calendar.
But mostly it's that I love my husband and am proud of his dorkery. Because Edward asked me the other night when we could watch 'the next set' of Yamada Tarou. When I told him that ten episodes were it he was all 'wth?' and then he asked which other show had more than one Arashi member in it. Again, he was put out to hear that there was not such a thing available to him. He was only slightly mollified by the news that Sho will turn up in UnO episode seven.
And he HATES AKANE. It is not just women who dislike her and what she is doing to Kenta. His thing is that she won't let Kenta move on because she can't move on. He says it's clear that Kenta can nmove on and let go of her and she's just not letting him because things are finally getting really tough for HER. He says he thinks Akane wants to quit the band (or, upon closer questioning, get the band to quit doing what they are now) and that it would be easy for her to use Kenta to do that (ie. Kenta needs to be back in the band or we quit. OR you made us kick him out and now we're quitting) and that she'd end up blaming him later (because of course he would have to quit the show to do this).
Slowly, my husband is becoming a total Arashi fan AND a Jdrama fan: he's actually watching Voice with me. He wants to know when somebody is going to attack Daiki with a comb and he wants to watch Mei-chan (Tendou! he said. Me: Yup. Him: He should go get Kagami from medical school.)
Now for some RANDOM: Tokuyama Hidenori continues to be a huge dork. He made his mom take pictures of him giving his dogs a shower. His birthday was last month and he ended up spending time with Satou Yuuki, Kato Kazuki, and Uchiyama Masato. He hangs out with the Kamen Rider cast on occasion. That makes me laugh. Mostly I was happy that I recognized Kato WITHOUT THE HAT. PS. I really sort of want Eroica's CD.
But now! Fic! It is unmitigated Ohmiya fluff, I'm afraid. Plus, I think you should all go to
fivesomeaday and ohmiyaday and read all the fics. SRS AWESOME, PEOPLE.Heart-shaped
Ohno is nineteen when he buys his first box of Valentine's chocolate. He's supposed to be getting cup of coffee and joining his bandmates at a photoshoot but the little store next to the coffee shop has caught his eye and he's gone in without thinking. He's struck by the sheer number of choices crammed into such a small place. There are so many boxes and it is unexpectedly a bit scary.
He knows all the red and pink packages—it's not like he's never gotten Valentine's chocolates of his own—but they seem foreign and unfamiliar under his hands when he reaches out for them. It's different when he wants them to give to somebody else. The satin covers are slick and shiny and strange beneath the pad of his index finger as he touches them, the edges too sharp.
Boys don't buy Valentine's chocolates.
"Picking out the ones you hope to get?" Nino's voice asks in his ear as Nino's chin settles itself—bony and pointed—on his shoulder.
He doesn't know how else to say it.
"I—" Ohno drags his finger over the corner and down the other side of the box on the shelf. "They look tasty," he says.
He's been thinking about this for days.
"They do look tasty," Nino agrees.
If he waits another, it'll be too late.
He turns his head and meets Nino's eyes. The sunlight slanting through the shop gives Nino's eyes a honey-brown cast, tips the edges of his eyelashes gold. "What kind do you like?"
Nino's eyes widen and then crinkle up as his laugh warms against Ohno's cheek. "I like food I don't have to buy," he says, "so any of them!"
Ohno picks up the little red box that he'd been considering and takes it to the register. Nino's chin is back on his shoulder by the time the girl behind the counter finishes wrapping it. Ohno doesn't want to dislodge him so he is careful as he fishes the little box back out of the bag.
The movement is so simple; the whole moment is so ordinary.
"Here," he says.
Somehow all of it seems so easy.
"Idiot," Nino says, grinning, his hand coming up and covering Ohno's over the box. "That's honmei chocolate."
Plus I'm a boy, Ohno thinks as his pulse picks up speed just to the right of where Nino's fingers are resting against his wrist. But if Nino's not going to mention that, and if Nino's not going to mention the way his heart is racing, then neither is he. "That's all right," he says instead. "I like Nino."
The girl behind the counter squeaks in shock and Nino ends up laughing so hard that he cries, but Ohno notices that Nino's hand is still around his as they tumble out of the little shop.
Ohno wonders if he'll get White Day returns.
PS. Now with White Day returns.
AND
Valentine's Day
Valentine's Day starts with Ohno letting himself into Nino's apartment. He half expects Nino to meet him in the genkan but it's early, so early, and Nino doesn't. Ohno skips bothering with house slippers, just steps out of his shoes and his stocking-covered feet make little whispers as he navigates the dark apartment to Nino's bathroom.
He more than half expects for Nino to join him in the shower, scrubbing himself and waiting for the soapy slide of wet arms around his middle, the flush of contact all along his back. He's waiting for Nino's sleep-soft voice to offer to wash his back for him, his hair. It doesn't come and he's almost disappointed by that as he snaps the shower off and reaches for a towel. He dries himself and leaves the bathroom still naked and still scrubbing a towel over his hair and thinks that it's actually hard to be really disappointed because…
Because the pre-dawn light and the last of the streetlights are illumination enough to see Nino asleep in his bed, his face half buried in the pillow he's hugging. Ohno can see that kittenish little smile of his curving his lips just so and it's impossible to wish that Nino had come to the door or the shower. He can feel himself start to harden as he crosses the room to where Nino is. Ohno sits down on the bed inside the curl of Nino's body and touches the corner of his mouth, tracing the edge of happiness.
"Nino," he says quietly, at last. "I'm here."
Nino doesn't move beyond a slight frown wrinkling its way across his brow.
Ohno wipes the line away with his thumb and then runs his thumb over the eyebrow that isn't buried in Nino's pillow, smoothing it. Nino is an untidy sleeper, everything about him mussed and rumpled and messy. Ohno touches his ear, his cheek, his chin. "Nino, it's Valentine's Day," he says insistently.
In the bed, Nino grunts and rolls over, pulling the blankets over his head. Ohno doesn't mind; he doesn't need Nino to be awake, just to make room. He lifts the blankets and slides underneath, fitting himself against Nino's back. Ohno discovers that Nino is wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants, both so old that they've lost their shape and are skin-soft. Ohno puts his lips at the nape of Nino's neck and trails a hand over Nino's side, feeling Nino's warmth through the thin shirt.
Nino smells like soap and sleep, the clean-soap scent stronger than the sleeping-Nino scent. Ohno curls his hand over the crest of Nino's hip when he reaches it. The odds that Nino's night had been as long as Ohno's, that his filming ran late, are very good. They're both tired and the world beneath Nino's blanket is full of sleepy promises. Ohno is already half-hard but it's ignorable, something he can fall asleep with without having to take care of it. It's what he should do. He should let Nino sleep, let them both sleep. Except…
Except it's Valentine's Day. Ohno drags his hand back up Nino's side, up under the shirt. The heat of Nino's skin is more immediate and Ohno can feel the shirt bunching as he pushes it away, already getting cold. "Nino," he murmurs, blowing gently on the delicate skin beneath his lips. "Nino, it's Valentine's Day." He strings tiny kisses from the nape of Nino's neck to the curve of his shoulder, pulling the shapeless, stretched-out collar of Nino's shirt out of his way as he goes. "Valentine's Day, Nino," he repeats, ending the last kiss by touching the tip of his tongue to Nino's skin. He goes back for a slightly longer lick, a little bit more of that taste. "Nino."
Nino makes a soft sound which Ohno thinks sounds vaguely questioning—or at least vaguely more awake.
"It's Valentine's Day," Ohno says again. He strokes down Nino's side and then up again, pressing a little, a little more present. "I'm here," he tells him. He tips his hand from Nino's side to his chest, just touching. He can feel Nino's nipples, softer than the surrounding skin; they're not hard yet. It makes his breath catch at the back of his throat. "I'm kind of horny."
"Hmm," says Nino. He rolls over a little, pressing back against Ohno's chest and he moves to accommodate him, ending up half over Nino who then says, "Satoshi?" He is blurring the syllables into an unforgivable mess but Ohno thinks it's cute. And a little sexy. He likes Nino's rough, half-hushed voice.
"Kazunari," he says by way agreement. He fans his fingers over Nino's skin, feeling it tighten. He closes his fingers gently on one nipple, tugging lightly, gently. It makes Nino shiver and Ohno pushes himself closer. Nino's body is not exactly comfortable, there's no fat to really pad it out, but it feels so good and Ohno just doesn't care. "I'm trying to get your shirt off," he tells Nino as he moves his hand up and up to touch the hollow of his throat.
"Mmm," Nino hums and that's definitely a sound of agreement.
Ohno catches the hem of Nino's t-shirt and pulls. Nino stretches under him, back bowing up from the bed just long enough for Ohno to get the shirt clear. Nino's arms come down, sliding out of the sleeves, and Ohno abandons the t-shirt somewhere between the bed and the floor. He cups the back of Nino's head and kisses him. He doesn't bother with the niceties, the little 'hello, how are you' touches, just slicks his tongue over Nino's lower lip, nips it when Nino is slow in opening to him, and takes the heat of his mouth as deeply as he can.
From the lazy way that Nino kisses him back, Ohno guesses that Nino is about eighteen percent awake.
Maybe twenty, he amends. Nino is moving under him just a little. Just enough so that Ohno's leg ends up slotted neatly between Nino's and Ohno himself is straddling Nino's own thigh. Ohno pushes into it, bringing his knee up and he tastes Nino's moan on his tongue. "I'm trying to get your pants off, too," he says into Nino's mouth.
Nino's 'mmm' is a little bit grumpy sounding.
Ohno kisses him on the shoulder, over his heart, just above his bellybutton. "You only have to lift up for a second," he promises. Nino doesn't move at all apart from his hands drifting up to settle heavy and sleepy in Ohno's hair. This is not an entirely unexpected turn of events and so Ohno simply dips his head, rubbing his cheek firmly over the bulge in the front of Nino's pajamas pants.
Nino's gasp is sharp and sudden and his whole body moves to follow the lost breath, up and up and up. Ohno works quickly, slipping one hand into Nino's pants, keeping Nino's erection from snagging on the waistband, while his other hand jerks the pants down. He manages to get the back down to the tops of Nino's thighs before Nino melts back into the mattress. Nino's hands are tight in his hair, pushing, directing, demanding. Ohno ignores him, slides out of his hands despite the pull in his hair, and settles over him. He holds Nino down with the weight of his body and kisses him quiet again.
They've both agreed that when they're with girls, tuna is fine. With women, tuna is definitely, definitely the way to go. When they're with each other, however… Well, they're both men; they might as well fuck like it. And it's good that way, both of them going after exactly what they want, not needing to read what the other is asking for (though they can, they do, it's easy when it's them), and having the freedom to come first if they want since they don't care about the polite 'let's clean up' nonsense. They end up stuck together a lot but the pornographic quality of their sex generally makes up for the lost pubic hairs.
But there are times when Ohno craves this, wants Nino pliant and soft and sleepy beneath him. Nino is not the only one with a bit of a fetish about blurred gender lines; he's just more obvious about it. Nino likes boys dressed like girls, likes all that pretty wrapping; Ohno likes the feeling of Nino boy-hard in the cradle of his hips but needy and still like a girl in his arms.
"Satoshi," Nino breathes under him. His hands flutter butterfly-light over Ohno's shoulders, just brushing, not settling. He makes soft sounds in the back of his throat; Ohno slides his palm over Nino's neck so he can feel them. "Satoshi."
"Kazunari," he returns, brushing the name over the shell of Nino's ear, brushing his cock over Nino's, holding his hips too far away for more than a tease.
Nino lifts his chin and Ohno takes the hint, kissing his way down the long, awkward, lovely line of his neck. He keeps going, down over the jut of his collarbone, scattering across his chest. Ohno has a thing for nipples in general and for Nino's in particular and Nino's are not soft now. They're peaked and pretty and Ohno takes one between his teeth and bites, just a little bit less than gently. Nino's hands light on his shoulders. "Oh," he sighs.
"I'll give you anything," Ohno promises and he means it sincerely. He kisses the nipple he's just used his teeth on and then keeps moving, dusting light kisses everywhere he goes. Nino stays lax and lazy under his mouth and hands.
Lower and lower he moves, following Nino's body under the sheets, everything dark and drowsy. He finds Nino hot and hard and waiting for him, already a little slick at the tip. Above him, above the blankets, Nino is murmuring to himself. A soft and steady litany of 'oh, oh, oh's. Ohno licks him slowly, root to tip with the broad flat of his tongue, and listens as Nino's voice fractures, breaks, falls apart.
He settles in for it, for this whole 'sucking Nino' thing. He can't remember the last time that they could take time and today that's exactly what they have and exactly what he's going to do. He's pinning Nino's legs to the bed with his weight, helped out by Nino's pajama bottoms that he left somewhere around Nino's knees, and licks Nino again. He doesn't really need to hold him down, Nino is still mostly sleeping, but he likes knowing that if Nino tries to hurry things up, he won't be able to.
Ohno likes everything about this act; he loves the way Nino's body tightens and the way Nino's words get looser. He likes the solid, musky scent that fills the world between Nino's thighs and he likes that salt-bitter-sharp taste piquant on his tongue. There's something heavy and rich about the way it comes together and some of Ohno's more intricate designs are his memories of this and the way he thinks it should look in paint.
Getting lost in Nino is easy. Getting lost in sex is easy. Ohno isn't surprised at all that his jaw hurts by the time he notices that Nino is saying his name. He lifts his head, letting his mouth linger in a slow drag, and also takes note of the fact that Nino has folded down the blankets enough so that Ohno is no longer cocooned in them. "Nino?" he asks. His lips feel bruised, sensitive.
Nino looks like he is still more than half asleep. "Fuck me?"
If he's asking, Ohno figures Nino might possibly be on the more awake side of half-asleep. He slides up Nino's body and kisses his heavy-lidded eyes, and then the moles on his cheek. "All the stuff is still in your dresser," he says apologetically. It's way too late to get out of bed now, he thinks. He presses their hips together and draws in a short, choppy breath at the way they fit, like they were made as two halves of one whole. Nino is still wet from his mouth. "Come here," he says on the exhale, one arm curving under Nino's body to pull his hips up harder against him.
Nino makes a dissatisfied whine, a little noise caught low in the back of his throat.
Ohno knows he shouldn't laugh at him but he can't help it. He always thinks that Nino is cute when he's being a bratty kid. "Nino." He kisses the point of his chin, the tip of his nose. "Come here, Nino," he sing-songs.
A faint scowl threads its way across Nino's face. "Oh-chan," he says. He might look petulant but his hips roll up to meet Ohno's and his arms loop around his neck. "Oh-chan," his next breath is a ragged-ended sigh and Ohno kisses him as he starts to move.
He sets a slow pace. He wants it that way and Nino is still blurry with sleep and he wants that, too. Ohno likes the way Nino's breath goes short and thin as he rubs their cocks together. He can't leave a mark but sets his mouth against the delicate place under Nino's ear anyway, sucking lightly as he drags his body away. "Want it," he whispers, reaching between them to adjust the both. He pushes forward again, steady, steady. "Want it," he repeats.
Nino arches under him, one leg curling high on Ohno's hip. "Fuck me." His head tips back, his Adam's apple prominent under the skin. Ohno moves his lips to it, tasting the gloss of sweat there, and pulls Nino's hips up. "Fuck me," he says again and Ohno feels the words tremble under his tongue.
"Want to," he admits breathlessly. He has a sense-memory of sliding into Nino's body, the tight heat and the way it makes Nino moan and writhe and it burns in his brain as he rocks faster against the burn of Nino's body. "Nino."
"Fuck me," Nino moans and his fingers are hard on Ohno's shoulders, his body shaking.
The desperation is getting to him, no matter how much he wants to hold off. He bucks against Nino, feeling the way their cocks line up side-by-side, the way the short, coarse curls that frame Nino are almost too sharp against his skin. It's too much. "Nino," he can barely form the word, loses the sound into Nino's shoulder as he bites at the sweet skin there.
"Please," Nino begs, his fingers scrabbling for purchase, biting in deep. Ohno feels it only in the most distant of ways as he comes wet and messy between them, all but sobbing with it, feeling Nino's body shuddering frantically under him as the world dissolves into pleasure.
It's only as he wakes up that Ohno realizes that he has fallen asleep. There is sunlight in the room and a wet-haired Nino is sitting beside him on the bed, resting a hot cup of coffee on the back of his naked shoulder and then lifting it away, sipping, and setting it down again. It's a very uncomfortable heat.
"'s hot," he tells Nino, rolling over when Nino lifts the mug again.
"Serves you right," Nino replies, his voice echoing into the cup as he drinks.
Ohno hisses as Nino sets the coffee down over his left nipple. "I'm…sorry?" he tries. Nino lets him lift the cup and roll over enough to set it on the bedside table. He yawns and wriggles down in the blankets. "What'd I do?"
Nino leans over and gives him a coffee-flavored kiss. "You mean aside from forgetting the condoms, coming all over me, and falling asleep on me without getting me off?" he asks as he sits back up.
"Yeah."
"You left my pants around my ankles and I nearly died getting out of bed to make you breakfast."
"There's breakfast?" Ohno asks, pushing Nino back so that he can sit up himself. "What kind of breakfast?"
"French toast, but only if you shower," Nino tells him. "I think you're sticking to my sheets and you smell like you came all over yourself."
Ohno clambers out of the bed, naked and with dried, itchy patches of come on himself. "I came all over you," he reminds him, scratching.
Nino throws a towel at him. "Well, shower anyway; I plan on raping you for breakfast."
"Yum," Ohno says and wanders out.
The French toast is a syrupy, golden brown when Ohno gets out of the shower and Nino is putting glasses of milk next to the coffee cups and the French toast. He's slouching around in his ratty Pika☆nchi 'Ninomiya' t-shirt and an even rattier pair of sweatpants.
"Sexy," Ohno opines.
Nino looks up.
Ohno is wearing the most disreputable pair of sweats that Nino happens to own and a threadbare, holey t-shirt that proclaims that he 'got lei'd in Hawaii'.
"I can see where I should have dressed up," Nino says as he sits down at the low table.
Ohno takes the seat next to him and grins. "You should always dress classy when you're going to rape somebody for breakfast. People will think badly of you if you don't."
Nino's laugh—the one he doesn't use for television if he can possibly, possibly help it—is one of the least idol star-like sounds Ohno has ever heard and it never fails to make him happy. Something somewhere deep inside of himself lights up whenever he can make Nino forget himself enough to laugh like that so he really can't help but lean over and kiss him.
He means to keep it light, just a little kiss, just a brush of lips because he's happy, but Nino's lips part softly under his and it's impossible to turn away from Nino's gentleness. His mouth opens for Nino and his eyes flutter shut. It stays simple—just parted lips moving together in tiny, sipping kisses—until the whole world seems hazy, lazy, and indistinct. Ohno moves closer, cups Nino's head in his hands, holding him, and he feels Nino's breathing hitch around a long sigh. A second later and the tip of Nino's tongue is touching his lip and Ohno lets him in with a sigh of his own.
Truthfully, he's a little surprised to find himself flat on his back with Nino on his chest when he opens his eyes again. Nino is grinning at him. "Oh-chan," he says authoritatively, "is easy."
"I'm not even drunk," he agrees. "Is breakfast cold?"
"Of course not," Nino says, crawling off of him. "I'm not going to let my hard work go to waste just so that I can take advantage of you. I have all day for that." Nino holds a knife and fork out to him and Ohno pushes himself back up. "Tell me it's tasty," Nino orders.
"Everything Nino makes is tasty," Ohno says as he cuts and then he has to stop, fork halfway to his mouth, to watch the way Nino's ears and cheeks go pink and the way that Nino's chin dips as he turns suddenly bashful. "You're so cute!" he tells Nino enthusiastically. Sometimes Nino is like one of those girls who acts boldly but is privately shy, the sort of girl who acts like she's unbothered but secretly takes everything to heart. Nino, Ohno thinks, would be the sort of girl a guy would spend a lifetime being grateful that he'd married.
Sometimes Ohno thinks that Nino really can read his mind because Nino's hands brush over his cheeks, smoothing the blush away, and Nino's eyes get that steely look and he points his fork at Ohno meaningfully. "Rape," he reminds him.
"Right."
Breakfast really is delicious as well as being comfortably silent. So much of their lives involve sound—the sound of the music, the screams of the fans, the click of the cameras, the instructions from their staff—that being quiet together is one of the most relaxing activities that they can indulge in. Besides, the brush of Nino's knee and elbow against his own says enough that the words would just be noise.
Nino takes their dirty dishes to the sink and makes cleaning-up noises and Ohno slumps across the table, thinking of nothing more than having the whole day to just himself and Nino and the quiet. He thinks of how rare it is that they both have the same day off and how much rarer it is that Nino's mother has planned to be away from home for the entire day. In ten years, he and Nino have managed to have a Valentine's Day about four times and so far none of them—with the exception of today—have been remotely close to the date the calendar calls Valentine's Day. He's beginning to think that they should have gone with Nino's initial suggestion of 'Leap Day'.
"Mm, Oh-chan really is too easy," Nino says suddenly, startlingly, right against the shell of his ear. The weight of Nino's wiry little body is suddenly heavy across his back. "Anybody could take advantage of him."
Ohno feels a finger poke through one of the holes in his borrowed shirt and feels a second sort of poke at the dip of his spine. He turns his head so that he can see Nino's face. "What, really?" he asks, wiggling his hips to illustrate his question. He knows Nino and knows very well that 'three times in thirty minutes' is well beyond Nino's capabilities.
Nino nips his cheek. "In making the choice between breathing and coming I sort of lost the mood."
"You want me to apologize?" Ohno asks. He doesn't care about the answer; Nino's hand fussing at the waistband of his sweats is much more interesting. Ohno isn't sure if he's really up for sex but he doesn't mind at all if Nino wants to use him.
"I want you on your knees," Nino murmurs and Ohno feels his hands turn firm at his hips, urging him to move, positioning him the way he wants him.
He's barely settled when Nino tugs the pants down to his knees and runs his hands back up his thighs. His hands vanish and Ohno hears the sounds of more clothes being pushed aside. "All this time?" he wonders out loud, feeling a little more apologetic now. He probably would have jumped Nino's unconscious body back in the bed. Point of fact, he thinks, he sort of did that anyhow.
"You kept licking your fork," Nino tells him.
"It wasn't on purpose." He says it, but it's not a protest.
"And when you were sucking on it?"
"…that maybe was."
Given the fact that they're in the kitchen, Ohno is expecting Nino to simply slip between his thighs, or else just press tight against him, using the shallow cleft of his ass in substitution. He is not expecting the wet, slightly sticky touch that precedes one of Nino's fingers sliding into him. "I hope that's not syrup," he says.
Upon closer inspection of that thought, though, he's not sure that it actually matters. He has always loved Nino's fingers.
"Don't be gross, Oh-chan," Nino says and Ohno thinks that he's trying to laugh except his voice is half low-moan. "Some of us plan ahead and bring the things we're going to need with us."
Nino is teasing at using two fingers and Ohno pushes back to let him know it's okay, arching in invitation. "I guess that's why Taka is the pretty one," he says, letting out a breath as Nino pushes and he adjusts. "You can go ahead," he says when Nino's only response is something suspiciously whimper-like. They've done this so often that rushing things a little won't really bother him later and, even if he is a little uncomfortable, the only thing he has on his schedule for the next day is some recording.
"When you're ready," Nino's voice is steady but Ohno can feel the way the rest of him is shaking, the way each breath is quavering as it ghosts over his skin, the unmindful way Nino is sucking at the nape of his neck.
He reaches back, finding Nino's wrist with a clumsy grip, pulling his hand away. "I'm ready," he says. He brings Nino's hand forward to where he's hard, curling those still-slick fingers around him.
Ohno tends to forget that Nino is left handed until Nino is cursing against him and fumbling between them right-handed. "Just hold on," Nino pants into his neck. "I just have to… just let me…"
The only thing he can do is keep his hand linked with Nino's and hold on and let him. He holds still and breathes and lets him, lets him, lets him. Nino shoves into him, hard and fast. It's hard but it doesn't hurt. It's rough, but Ohno is not—and has never been—the delicate type.
Nino's pace is feverish, uneven, and Ohno thinks that he could probably come just from this, just from the way Nino is out of control. He squeezes his hand around Nino's on his cock and pulls, groaning under his breath at the feeling. He loves Nino's hands, loves them.
"Don't," Nino gasps into his shoulder. "Don't. I can't—"
That's right, Ohno thinks, that's right; Nino likes to touch things. Nino's tactile nature is easy to forget when half of the time their skinship is for play or fan service. He bites his lip and moves their joined hands faster, stroking harder. "More," he says.
"I can't—"
Ohno knows full well that he's being pushy and unfair. He's pretty sure that Nino will thank him for it later. He pushes back hard into Nino's next thrust, squeezing their hands over the head of his cock so that they both gasp with it.
"Fuck," Nino whispers and the ragged rhythm breaks into one, two, three more hard thrusts and then Nino is shattering against him, inside of him, whimpering into him and Ohno holds them both up until Nino finishes going to pieces and begins to put himself back together.
When Nino's hand over his cock twitches, Ohno gives himself one last stroke with both of their hands and then pulls them both away, brining Nino's hand up so that he can kiss his palm. "I'm good," he says. He follows Nino down when he slumps to the floor, fitting himself against Nino as Nino spoons around him. Nino's arm settles around his waist and his hand settles back over Ohno's cock, cupping it warmly as he begins to soften.
Ohno listens to the sound of their breathing until Nino makes a tiny sound of irritation. Then he rolls to his feet, pulls his pants up just enough so that he won't trip over himself, and heads for the bath room. He wipes himself up quickly and gets a fresh washcloth for Nino.
Back in the kitchen, Nino has taken care of his condom and is staring at the ceiling. "You cheat," he says and Ohno takes that as his cue to kneel down and clean him off.
"You like it," he says, rubbing circles over Nino's abdomen just to watch the way the hair there swirls into little curls. He flips the cloth, folds it, and swipes it over the insides of Nino's thighs.
"It's too early," Nino mutters with a yawn. "I blame you."
"Okay." Ohno folds the washcloth again and then sets it aside so he can wriggle Nino's pants back up over Nino's slim hips. "You want to go back to bed?"
Nino nods and together they stumble back to his mussed-up bed and tumble in to it, together.
The sun through the window is bright and butter-rich when Ohno wakes up again. Nino is curled into his side, half on top of him, warm and heavy. He already has one hand in the soft strands of Nino's hair. It's comfortable and content in the bed.
So of course he sort of has to pee.
"I hear you up there," Nino mumbles into his chest. He moves, propping himself up on an elbow. His eyes are dark and sleep-lidded as he looks down at him, his lips hinting at his sly smile. "The first person to get out of bed has to start cleaning up out there."
There's no contest: Nino has a bladder like a camel and he's stubborn. "It's your house," Ohno pouts as he gets up.
Nino lies back on the bed and laughs at him and Ohno remembers again why he thinks it's cute when Nino is a willful brat.
Even though he complains about it, there is not actually much cleaning to do. Nino is a tidy cook when he's cooking at home (and not in front of a film crew) and so the washing up there is minimal. He didn't come and Nino used a condom and so Ohno only makes a cursory pass over the table and an even more perfunctory swipe at the floor beside it.
Still, he gives Nino a sour look when he passes through the living room to bring the lube back to the bedroom. "You suck," he says as he comes back.
Nino gives him a glancing smile as the DS in his hands make a triumphant sound. "Maybe later," he says, going back to his game.
Ohno punches him on the shoulder and then pushes his way onto the sofa, wiggling around until Nino is tucked into the space between his legs, leaning back against him. Nino makes a few wiggles of his own and then produces the television remote control and offers it to him. "Preference?" Ohno asks him as he takes it.
"Mm, whatever you want is fine," Nino mutters, focused on his game.
The greatest thing about daytime television is the fact that there is always a fishing show on somewhere. Ohno finds one easily. "Hata and Ono are going head-to-head," he tells the dark, messy hair tucked under his chin.
"Good to know," mutters Nino. "I just got the Zenithian shield."
"Very handy for fishing," Ohno assures him. He rubs his smile over Nino's hair, feeling peaceful all the way through. They don't get to do this often, relax like this with no plans and no worries and no expectations. As much as he might want to go fishing, he wants to sit on Nino's couch with Nino, the both of them doing their own thing and treating each other like furniture, even more.
Hata catches a black bass on the television and Ohno settles in for the day.
There was once the working theory in Johnny's that Nino was genetically part sloth. After four and a half fishing shows, Ohno is a little bored. Nino, on the other hand, is still intensely focused on his DS.
At least, Ohno thinks, he's got that Zenithian helmet now.
Still, as much as he might be bored with the television, that doesn't mean that he wants to disturb Nino. Disturbing Nino is a good way to make Nino cranky and unwilling to handle making lunch. The trick is to pull Nino's attention slowly but surely to himself and the fact that the t.v. is boring and it's nearly lunch time. Ohno starts poking around in the couch cushions. The sounds of loose change usually make Nino interested in where it's coming from and, if he gives Nino the money he finds, Nino will get off the couch to put it in his change jar. He doesn't find any change but he does find a ballpoint pen. A working one. He has always—even when they were both teenagers—thought that Nino has pretty skin.
Uncapping the pen with his teeth, Ohno pushes Nino's sleeve up to bare his shoulder. Nino barely twitches and Ohno drops the cap back into the cushions so that he can kiss Nino's shoulder in thanks. Then he begins. He starts with a large heart, since it's Valentine's Day (for them and for everybody else) and then he makes a chain of open-ended hearts, linking them back and back upon themselves until, somehow, they begin to look like fish scales. He brings the scale-hearts down Nino's arm, parting them like a large, elaborate tail-fin around Nino's elbow.
Nino makes a disgruntled noise as Ohno moves his arm up so that he can make the other side of the tail but subsides once Ohno lets his arm down again.
The DS makes an ominous battle sound and Ohno gives it a dirty look before tracing in swirls and streams to mark the fish's path over Nino's skin. He frames out the whole fish that way and then realizes that he forgot to give the fish a face. There's just a fish body with a heart where the head should be. He goes back to add gills.
"Is it fish?" Nino asks as the game makes an oh-no-you-died noise.
"It started as a heart," Ohno tells him, ignoring the click of the DS closing. "With a fish body."
He picks the point of the pen up and lets Nino twist to look at his arm. "It looks like a weird biker tattoo," Nino tells him. "Did you want something in particular or was I just handy?"
"You were handy," Ohno tells him, dropping the pen to the floor. "And I thought tantan-men would be nice." He smoothes his thumb over Nino's tail. "Do you have any markers?" he asks, fanning his fingers out.
Nino brings his elbow up and his lips are sweet against Ohno's fingers. "No, but we can go get some and while we're out you can get some tantan-men and treat me to ie-kei."
Who can say 'no' to markers and two different kinds of ramen? He pulls Nino to his feet and drags him towards the bedroom, just to hear him laugh while they get dressed.
He says, "Nino is such a good girlfriend, wanting to go shopping together on Valentine's Day," just to make Nino screech and chase him out the door, both of their scarves streaming out behind them as they make a mad dash down the stairs and out into the world.
In some ways, Ohno reflects, it almost feels like filming a montage scene for a drama. They go for lunch and fish noodles out of each other's bowls, laughing as they pretend to defend against each other. After lunch they get on the trains to go to the shopping district, standing together and swaying as the train moves them. They wander from shop to shop, Nino poking at the different colors and holding different brands side-by-side while Ohno steps back to compare them. Ohno gets drawn into a deep discussion with the little old grandma behind the counter at one place and Nino gets bored and leaves and Ohno doesn't find him again until he visits every game store in a three block radius.
They don't hold hands. Holding hands would stand out, catch people's eyes, and draw attention to who they are. Instead they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, plucking at each other's coat sleeves if they need to get attention. Nino adjusts Ohno's scarf for him once or twice, his dark eyes solemn and sweet. Ohno steals Nino's hat and wears it around as they walk past the park, taking the long way back to Nino's building.
The sun is just starting to set, the light turning rose-tinted and dear.
Most probably it's the right sort of time to get a melancholy feeling, Ohno thinks. But he's busy being happy and, if experience has shown anything, it's that Nino will get emo if the situation really calls for it.
But Nino is taking his sweater off as they kick out of their shoes at the door. "Is it going to be too much of a hassle for you if I play guitar while you color me in?"
Even if it would be, it's not something he'll say. "Are you working on lyrics or on music?" he asks by way of answer. He sits down on the floor while Nino gets his guitar and settles in beside him.
Nino adjusts the tuning pegs, strums, and adjusts them again. "Music," he says absently. "It's really early yet. I'm just trying stuff out."
Ohno takes his new blue marker out of the box and sets it on Nino's forearm. "Okay," he says quietly. The muscles in Nino's arm shift under his skin and the first notes of something that Ohno know will one day become Nino's next solo drift lightly out.
The marker moves, the sunlight slants in through the windows, and Ohno thinks that he can practically see the music on the air, like dust motes and cherry blossom petals. He changes markers and keeps drawing as Nino changes from the new song to an older one that Ohno's heard on the radio before. He starts to sing along as the scales fill with color.
The flat of Nino's hand on the strings makes everything stop for a moment and Ohno caps the marker and puts it back in the box. He's ready when Nino sets the guitar down and pulls him to his feet, leading him silently to the shower.
He watches Nino watch the way the maker and ink fade under the spray, running off of his skin in a mud-hued mix. He can feel Nino's eyes on him as he lathers a washcloth with soap and rubs at the leftover ink until the only remnants of the day's art project is the reddish, well-scrubbed patches of skin from shoulder to forearm. He's ready for Nino when Nino lets go and kisses him.
It's a demanding kiss, full of teeth and tongues and Nino's strangely furious desperation. Ohno meets him with equal strength, pushing back before he pulls away. "Not in the shower," he says. The last time they tried to do it in the shower his back had taken three days to quit protesting it and Nino had gotten a bruise on his butt that was roughly the size and shape of the shower nozzle. Besides, all the condoms are in the bedroom.
They kiss the few steps from the shower to Nino's room, from the doorway to the bed, and then Ohno shoves Nino bodily away, so that Nino lands hard on the bed behind him, looking up at him with deep, deep eyes. The lube, which had been sitting by the pillows, rolls down to land against Nino's thigh. "Get yourself ready," Ohno tells him and goes to get them both condoms from the top drawer of Nino's dresser.
When he turns around again, Nino is on his back, legs spread, and watching him. He's seen Nino do this before, but it still takes his breath away to watch and he has to watch. Has to. Can't not. He watches from across the room at first, until he can't resist the pull anymore, and then kneeling between Nino's legs, his attention divided between Nino's hands and Nino's body and Nino's heartbreaking face.
"You're such a romantic," he says when Nino reaches for him and he lets himself be pulled down into Nino's arms, into his body. They fit together. Like they were made as two halves of one whole.
Nino tries to hide, draping one arm over his eyes even as his legs curve high against Ohno's sides, but he doesn't fight it when Ohno takes his hand, pulling his arm away, pinning both of them to the bed. He breathes out a quavering sigh and says, "Satoshi."
There's a reason Nino rarely calls him that, rarely even uses it when he talks about him. It's because Nino, for all of his acting and all of his reserve, can be terribly transparent. Ohno pulls out, pushes in, letting the beat of his heart set the pace of his body. "Tell me," he tells Nino.
Nino arches under him, shaking his head. Their fingers slide together.
"Tell me," Ohno says again. He wants to kiss him.
He can't. He can't because under him Nino is still saying no, his body still driving up against him as their fingers lace together tighter and tighter.
"Nino." He can feel everything slipping; the sun toward the horizon, himself toward the edge, Nino toward him. "Nino, tell me."
Beneath him, Nino breaks and the words form soundlessly on his lips. "I love you," said silently between them.
Trust Nino, Ohno thinks, to be so very formal and so absolutely serious at a moment like this. "Romantic," he says again and then he presses their foreheads together and gives the words back to Nino, not quite as soundlessly, filling up the small space between their mouths just before he kisses him.
"You want to know something?" Nino asks a long time later.
Ohno looks up from tying his shoes and lets Nino wrap his scarf around his neck for him. "What's that?"
Nino smiles, crooked and serene. "If we did this every day we'd end up killing each other."
"With sex?"
Snorting, Nino helps him into his coat. "I guess that might kill us first," he allows. "But if it doesn't, we'll still end up killing each other."
"That's why our managers won't let us move in together," he jokes. It's the funnier part of the truth, at any rate.
"Yours just thinks I won't let you out of bed or that I'll stick my hand in your pants on live television," Nino tells him, giving him a quick kiss. "Mine's worried that they'll never find the body."
"I'd use your body as an art exhibit," Ohno promises him, kissing him on the cheek. "I'd call it something important like 'Fishing Again'."
Nino snickers. "If you put a fish hook through anything important I'll haunt you forever."
"And that's why we only do this on Valentine's Day," Ohno finishes.
They smile at each other, nuzzling together for one more moment. "See you on Monday," Nino says, stepping back.
"Monday," he agrees and steps out the door.
Valentine's Day doesn't end with the door closing between them. On the way home, half way between the train station and the house, Ohno sticks his hands in his pockets and discovers a small, red-and-white box of chocolates in his pocket. He texts Nino asking if he owes him a gift for White Day and Nino texts him back saying that he owes him big for it. Valentine's Day ends when they decide what constitutes White Day and when that's coming up on their own personal calendar.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 05:14 pm (UTC)When I saw the recent episode, I was like "OH I GET WHAT THAT EVIL PRODUCER IS DOING" and even then I didn't like Akane. I'll only be okay with them getting back together if it's on Kenta's terms and because he likes her so much.
VOICE IS AMAZING. lkcthmldhtcmkljgdfhgjkdf. VOICE makes me laugh and cry and is just so damn well-written, which is not always the case in Jdramas (they get put together so quickly, it must be difficult on the screenwriters!).
Also, only you can take a porny Valentine's Day and make it absolutely beautiful. ♥
AND HEART-SHAPED. SO OHMIYA. "I like Nino." He's said it before, I call in-character! *huggles*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 05:28 pm (UTC)How about Yoiko no Mikata? It still "only" has Sho, but Jun, Aiba-chan and Ohno get all individual cameos. They're really, really short (like, 30 seconds) but especially Aiba-chan's and Ohno's are made of WIN. (Hell, the whole series is win, it's Sho surrounded by little kids and failing the whole time... *__*)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 06:01 pm (UTC)If you and your husband haven't watched Yoiko no Mikata, you might like that. Sho as a kindergarten teacher, and every Arashi member has a cameo, except Nino. I love that drama a lot. *_______*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 06:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 06:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 06:57 pm (UTC)*makes note* The good part about being so late to the Arashi party is that there is a lot of subbed awesomeness just waiting for me to pick it up! My ovaries won't be happy with me, but that's THEIR problem.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 06:58 pm (UTC)But! I am going to ignore the protests of my ovaries and add that to my download list.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 07:07 pm (UTC)I think fandom agrees so much because...well. Part of the fandom hates her because she dumped Kenta. Full stop. Part of the fandom hates her because of the WAY she dumped Kenta. Part of the fandom hates her because she dated him, zomg. And part of us hate her because she is taking up time that could be used for Katsumi/Sakura. (And by 'part of us' I mean 'it's me'.) Seriously? I think most of us get her reasons we just despise her methods and the fact that she won't let go of Kenta despite ripping his heart out.
I'm only okay with them getting back together if they BREAK UP AGAIN LATER. >.<
(Wait--what is the producer doing? I thought he was just being an ass now that he's got them under contract. But did I miss something between that and when he went to take pictures of chickens?)
VOICE. a;djksdjf YES. There are no affairs with peacocks and the hens aren't being bribed! Seriously, the screenwriters in Japan have a rough job but the people on Voice are amazing. Becky and I have some flail about it in her journal in her recap posts. Mainly the fact that they keep mixing up the 'groups' so that everybody interacts with everybody. It's not 'the trio' and 'Hanei and Teppei'. Which is awesome. P-plus...I think they are my next OT5.
It was not so much with the Valentine's Day but porny and meandering, absolutely yes. Beautiful. Thank you! You really are too sweet.
Ohno keeps saying he likes Nino but Nino doesn't take the hint. He just keeps groping without returning the confession. CLUE BUS, NINO. HERE IS YOUR TICKET.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 07:22 pm (UTC)The elaboration and formation of a more solid hatred through discussion is just a beautiful thing. LMAO.
SAKURA/KATSUMI. PLEASE. ♥
(LOL THE CHICKENS I NOTICED THAT TOO. EVIL PRODUCER AND THE CHICKENS. Okay, that aside, I think there's a possibility that he didn't suggest kicking Kenta out of the band because he was lacking motivation, but did it because he wanted to make Akane miserable and therefore give her that cold, icy sort of image. Even if that is the case, she still LISTENED TO HIM and had it coming. Lack of motivation is bad, but jumping at an opportunity with blind faith, without checking up on consequences is bad too.)
There's romance between Daiki and the girl, right? I'm not imagining the sexual tension? AND TOMA AND THE CUTE AS A BUTTON NURSE OMG. HE IS SO OBLIVIOUS IT HURTS. But yeah, even with those little romantic subplots, they all hang out together, they amuse the hell out of me, and the message behind every episode just makes my heart break in a good way. <3
It's always "Kazu, I love you!" and "I like Nino!" and always indirect things from Nino. I want a direct "OHNO SATOSHI IS MY LOVER" from Nino. Now plz.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 08:46 pm (UTC)I love Voice too much. It's such a calming experience to watch. I kind of look forward to it like a weekly meditation. Very unique experience for me as far as dramas go. P.S. So it was the evil producer taking pictures of the chickens? LOLz Japan.
You know, I could have rooted for Akane--so she's confused emotionally and she's struggling with whether she made the right choice or not. I can empathize. Flawed characters and all that are fine. They just had to give her a single redeeming quality. Just one. A single reason for us to like her or even to show why Kenta loves her so much. But Ep. 5 is done and over with nothing to show so far, and I've given up any hope that they're going to either. *sigh*
Though now I do think the producer dropped Kenta not because he's unmotivated or a bad singer or wouldn't make a good frontman but moreso because he wanted someone that could be easily molded into the image he's designed. And we all know Kenta cannot be easily molded into anything he's not, at least not without a hard, long fight.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-25 11:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-26 02:32 am (UTC)♥♥♥
also please tell your husband to get an LJ account so i can friend him
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-26 05:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-26 05:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-26 10:49 am (UTC)(And one can almost pretend Oh-chan's in there. Everytime I saw Koichi I was like... wth? XD)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-26 09:33 pm (UTC)Ahahaha, I know, right? I keep thinking, okay, they don't look that much alike, and then I'll catch myself mistaking one of them for the other. It's not so obvious now, but back when they had the same hair they could have passed for twins.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-27 10:16 pm (UTC)Voice really is sort of calming, isn't it? I think it's the fact that they don't demonize death. The message that life goes on and that people care is nice.
I am right there with you on Akane--if they could give us something, some sign that she cares about Kenta and his happiness as much as she cares about her OWN happiness and dreams. Because I understand her motivation it's just her methods! If they could give me something to make me want to forgive her...YOU HAVE THREE EPISODES, SHOW.
I am totally adopting your theory on the producer man wanting to mold the band and package it. Kenta is way too strong (and also, has too much inertia) to make it something to producer wants to do. Actively, at least. Because now I think that maybe the producer is hoping to pick up Kenta as a solo artist after all the cruelty and harshness and unhappiness has turned him into an angry, emo rockstar.
\o/ I love my flist so hard.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-27 10:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-27 10:17 pm (UTC)And. Link. asdkfj;lsdj HOW ARE YOU THIS AWESOME?
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Date: 2009-02-27 10:19 pm (UTC)He doesn't LJ. He's busy being a dork with computers and politics. But I told him what you said and he said 'cool, I have imaginary internet friends'.
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Date: 2009-02-28 04:01 am (UTC)corruptconvert. And then I remember I have my brother, which is practically the same thing, except that he doesn't need me to take care of him. :DI-it's really cheesy, I'm just warning you beforehand. But Matsujun is adorable and Aiba is hilarious and KinKi and Kohara Yuki bring the gay. So, um, I know I was riveted. >_>
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Date: 2009-03-17 07:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-14 05:53 pm (UTC)