[Fic] Fumbling Fetish

[nilielh]

Title : [Fic] Fumbling Fetish
Rating : definitely R
Pairing : Aiba/Nino
Prompt : Aiba/Nino FREE SQUARE 
Summary : Hell, embarrassing things sort of stopped being embarrassing when the first thing you did when you debuted was to sing and dance on national television wearing a monstrosity of latex costume that even after one and a half decade, people still talked about the thing as if they’d happened to wear it just the day before.
Word Count : 2575 words
Disclaimer : fiction, yo!
Note : filling prompts over at rainbowfilling !one down, 3 prompts to go and my first card is complete! Wish me luck? :D

There are certain things about himself with which he would very much admit out loud, albeit subtly, and some of them are outright silly that it’s almost embarrassing letting others know about it but sometimes, just sometimes, he doesn’t mind.

He’s been in this business since he was a child, and well, it’s to be expected that he’d pretty much learned to play it cool. Hell, embarrassing things sort of stopped being embarrassing when the first thing you did when you debuted was to sing and dance on national television wearing a monstrosity of latex costume that even after one and a half decade, people still talked about the thing as if they’d happened to wear it just the day before.

But there are also terribly, terribly embarrassing things such as this that he never, ever wish to come out in public no matter what.

“What?” Aiba asks, eyes wide and unblinking as the taller man regards him confusedly; well, he couldn’t exactly blame his friend for thinking he probably misheard him because, well, his request is sort of, um, odd.

He tries his hardest to avert his gaze but it’s difficult, what with the way Aiba is licking the remains of his vanilla-filled cream doughnut across his lower lip and thus making his insides twist in fucking agony (or something else entirely, he couldn’t be sure).

“I –“ he says, then swallows the lump that is suddenly blocking his throat, fingers tight against the worn sides of his DS. “Do I really have to repeat it?” he asks with a scowl. “You already heard it,”

Aiba’s face remains honestly confused. “But Nino-chan, I’m not sure if I heard it right,” Aiba says, licking his fingers this time, one after the other. “Were you really asking me to –“

He scrambles forward with all the intention of slapping a hand over Aiba’s mouth the moment he realized the door to their greenroom has opened and Jun walks in, wearing his usual early-morning scowl.

“The hell’s up with you two?” Jun grumbles, as his usual way of greeting; Nino shakes his head and prays to whoever is watching to please keep Aiba from saying anything with regards to what he asked the taller man seconds ago or he might consider murder.

“We were just –“

“Nino-chan, I’m not going to give these doughnuts to Matsujun because it’s too early and he doesn’t like sweet things in the morning and also because I don’t want these to end up thrown into my face, so –“

“What?” Jun scowls some more while he blinks at Aiba as if he’s stupid. 

Aiba holds out the doughnut box and smiles. “Doughnuts?”

Jun’s brows arch suspiciously while he almost, almost isn’t able to slap a hand over his chest and sighs in obvious relief, hears Jun mutter, “No, thanks,” before he’s off to sit on his usual corner, armed with his IPod and his vanity mirror.

About a few minutes has passed when he feels Aiba’s fingers poking him on the side.

“What?”

Aiba’s smile is as infectious as his enthusiasm. “I think I’m free after seven tonight,” Aiba says, in his normal Aiba-husky voice and Nino suddenly feels tingly all over the minute he realized what it means. 

“Eh?”

“Did you change your mind already?” 

He didn’t but. “Didn’t you say you think you just misheard me? Why now –“

“I should have known you wouldn’t make such odd requests if you’re not serious,” Aiba says, cutting him off, “and yes, I said I thought maybe I misheard you but its okay now. So, later?”

He blinks, and tries not to blush and hyperventilate as Aiba grabs another piece from the box and starts munching on it.

“I’ll be done by eight,” he finds himself mumbling as he settles back on the couch, folding his legs underneath him if only to stop the heat from creeping up from his toes.

He is sure he just heard Aiba’s muffled giggles, but he could be wrong. Especially when Aiba shifts a little closer to his side and bumps their shoulders together.

“Eight it is, then,”

+++ 

So it actually started like this.


He was watching his bandmates rehearse from where he was perched on the stool inside the studio (which was supposed to belong to their dance instructor but since he wasn’t here, he might as well enjoy the very-seldom opportunity of sitting on it whenever he could), wiping the sweat off his arms while Jun and Sho went over the second part of the choreography on one corner and Leader was slumped on the floor on the other side, spouting mumbly instructions to Aiba who still couldn’t get the steps right.

He snickered to himself when Aiba did the twist and their Leader sort of aimed a kick against his ankles, mumbling something about doing it all wrong and Aiba apologizing profusely afterwards. At other times, he would have find it endearingly funny to watch Aiba fail, again, and would have made a biting remark on Aiba’s expense if it wasn’t for the fact that somehow, something about the way Aiba looked right then had drawn his attention without him realizing it.

There’s sweat gathering at Aiba’s temple, his shirt clinging unto his body like second skin and he looked positively drenched, sweat marring every inch of Aiba’s skin. This, however, was nothing new for they were all accustomed to seeing each other bathed in sweat but there was something about the way Aiba’s mouth twisted ruefully along the edges, the way his apologies were spilling out from his mouth that made Nino’s own go dry.

Their Leader was staring at Aiba-chan sleepily, telling him something about learning how to follow the beat and Aiba nodding furiously, positioning his feet where Ohno told him to position them and his gaze followed, checking Aiba’s expression and the way Aiba’s forehead was crinkling in utter concentration, his clothes sticking to his body.

It was when the thought struck him, and boy, did it struck him hard.

Right then, he was imagining Aiba with that same look on his face, but only this time, he was wearing one of Nino’s unwashed shirt and jerking off while he watched.

“Kazu, will you please come here and go over the steps with Aiba-chan again? He still doesn’t get it,” Leader yelled, more like hummed, because Leader’s yells sounded nothing like he was yelling at all, and Nino was grateful for the sudden distraction, and then quietly cursing to himself when he realized what Ohno meant.

He tried his hardest not to scream, and shiver, when he looked up and spied the shadows of Aiba’s nipples peaking through his wet shirt.

Fuck. “Why does it have to be me?” he complained though he knew there was no way Leader was going to get up from where he was lazily eyeing him only to go over the steps with Idiot-chan. 

Ohno yawned and pointed. “Because you’re free and I’m tired,” Ohno said, placing his arms under his head and closed his eyes. “Now go and practice the steps with him. I’m going to nap for a bit,”

“Jerk,” he mumbled, though he was already going into position, Aiba looking at him like he was some kind of angel.

Ohno’s head snapped up. “I heard that!”

He grinned and blew Leader a kiss.

+++

They shuffle back into their dressing room half an hour after six, still plenty of time to prepare himself (and his heart) while Aiba is continuously giving him the creepy eyes.

“What’s up with you two?” Jun corners him, glancing at Aiba who is making eyes with him through the mirror. “If you’re planning something behind our backs, I’m telling you –“

He cuts Jun off with a huff and a wave of his hand. “Nothing that should worry you, Emperor,” he says, grinning even though he could feel his heart thundering inside his ribcage. “and please don’t mind that idiot, he’s just, you know, an idiot?” 

Jun doesn’t look like he’s fully convinced and he is eyeing him like he’s saying ‘I’m onto you, you twit’ before he starts walking away. 

The next thing he realizes, there are fingers poking him on the side and Leader breathing warm breathes into his next and mumbling,

“Please don’t tell me Jun-kun wants to tag along,” Leader says and he is so surprised he manages to jump a few feet off the ground and glares at Leader for being a fucking prick. 

“What? What?”

Leader grins. “Damn. That must be one hell of a plan you got there,” Leader says with a wink, “well, best of luck to you,” is the last thing he hears from Leader before he also walks away with a subtle shake of his head.

And here he thinks he’s the worst kind of creep in the group, shaking his head and making his way to gather his things when his gaze meets Aiba’s through one of the mirrors lining their dressing room wall and mouths, ‘see you later’ before he’s also out the door.


+++ 

“I don’t really understand how this works but,” Aiba says, eyeing the crumpled (and very much stinky) shirt he just threw at Aiba. 

They’re back at his place (because he doesn’t trust Aiba enough not to make fun of him and at least in his own apartment, he could kick Aiba anytime he wants to), and he’s standing a few paces away from Aiba, arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s so simple,” he huffs, though something in the way Aiba is fixing his worn shirt one of his unreadable gazes is making his chest rumble in the worst way possible. Because the look on Aiba’s face is one that makes his stomach coil and his spine tingles in anticipation. “I just need to see you wearing it,” he says, though that’s just not it, right? 

Earlier that day, it’s all he asked Aiba – to see Aiba wearing one of his worn shirts without offering any explanation because well, he doesn’t think he was capable enough to come up with a rational answer without compromising his supposed secret motive.

“It’s a little fit,” Aiba comments, loudly, then, “and this reeks, Nino-chan,” Aiba follows, and he’s two seconds away from rolling his eyes to the heaven when Aiba does something that has his blood rushing down south. It’s when Aiba lifts the hem of the shirt and brings it close to his face, to his nose, before he is breathing the fabric in.

His belly clenches at the sight and his dick twitches at the same time.

“Fuck –“ he curses under his breath, finds that his knees are trembling and he’s having trouble staying upright, eyes locked on Aiba’s face. 

Aiba raises his head, mouth tilted into some semblance of smugness before Nino spies Aiba’s hand moving down to cup himself through his pants at the same time he brings the fabric close to his face again and breathes.

“Fuck, Aiba-chan –“

Aiba grins, rolls his palm over his covered crotch and Nino doesn’t know where he should focus his gaze anymore; in the one hand, he wants to follow the movements of Aiba’s hand on himself, but on the other, he finds that he doesn’t want to take his gaze off of Aiba’s face and miss all those tiny, filthy faces Aiba is making.

But it’s difficult to stay focus when his brain’s a little fried and his other head has decided it’ll do all the thinking from here on, his left hand unconsciously leaving the sanctuary it found by gripping the side of his jeans tightly as it walk its way to the front, fingers grabbing for the zipper and hastily tugging it down.

“I knew it,” Aiba rasps out huskily, mirroring the movement Nino’s hand is making as he takes a hold of himself, still sniffing the scent of Nino’s shirt whilst doing so. “You want to jerk off with the images of myself wearing your foul-smelling shirt,”

“It sure doesn’t look like you mind the smell anyway,” he bites out, flicking his wrist and thumbing at the head of his cock, smearing precum when he does so. “and please stop talking and just –“

Aiba shakes his head and Nino’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Aiba’s cock, the head only visible, plum-colored tip peeking through Aiba’s grip. 

“And just what?”

He finds himself biting his lips hard enough to draw blood if only to keep himself from yelling, his orgasm building fast and threatening to ruin him.

“Shit, I want -- Aiba-chan, I need –“

Aiba makes a good show at throwing his head back and squeezing himself. “No,” he says and Nino finds himself whimpering in frustration, whimpers again when Aiba mutters, “no touching; we didn’t agree,”

Fuck it all. “I don’t think we agreed to any of this, anyway, so –“

“Nino-chan,” Aiba all but wails and it’s the only warning he gets as Aiba throws his head back and comes just like that; he feels another frustrated whine tears itself from the center of his chest as his fingers work faster on himself, committing the sight into memory, the way Aiba’s neck arched and his teeth is digging into his lower lip as he shakes.

“Oh god,” he keens, squeezes himself and closes his eyes as his orgasm tears through the surface, blurring everything including the smug grin stretched across Aiba’s face.

+++

“So,” Aiba pipes up, once he’s cleaned and has changed back into his own pair of shirt and jeans, propping himself next to Nino who is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s had one of his dirtiest fantasies brought to life, courtesy of Aiba.

“Hmm?” he simply hums in return, because he doesn’t fully trust his ability to form coherent words, yet, to answer Aiba verbally. Though, with the way Aiba is grinning at him, he can’t help but feel a little, well, worried.

“Was that it?” Aiba asks, looking genuinely curious, “seeing me wearing your clothes turns you on?”

Oh god. “Aiba-chan,” he says, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This. I mean,”

Aiba giggles heartily before he feels the taller man’s hand on his jaw, fingers tender on his skin. Then Aiba is leaning in, mouth close to his ear and whispers,

“It’s okay if you’re thinking pervert thoughts about me, Nino-chan,” is what Aiba says, and Nino feels his skin tingle, kind of electric as Aiba’s breath brushes against the sensitive skin of his ear. “just so long as it’s with me. We can be perverts together, no problem,”

He feels himself flush and the images of Aiba on his knees sucking his cock while he’s wearing one of Nino’s old boxers is so clear he feels his dick twitch in his pants with renewed interest.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes wide as he stares at Aiba’s face and somehow, Aiba simply gets is.

He’s on his knees within seconds, fingers scrambling to get Nino’s pants open and shoving it down his feet without preamble, taking him in hand and mumbling dirty things he plans to do with him with Aiba’s mouth not even a breath away from his dick.

“Oh god,” he moans when Aiba throws him a bizarre version of a wink, mouth parted wide as he sucks Nino’s cock in. 

Oh god, indeed.
 

 

Comments

[betzi-chan.livejournal.com]

a pairing that is new when it comes to your fics. ^^
and i like it.
it is an interesting combination.

and it is hot! *___*
i like this one a lot.

thank you for sharing, dear. <3

[reibubbles.livejournal.com]

It's rare for you to write ninoai, but i like it so much ♥
it's hot and adorable, and hey who didn't like it when Aiba is drenched in sweat? I'm so understand Nino's problem. lol.
Thank you for this ♥

[deelovesryo.livejournal.com]

So hot! Aiba is really sexy with his hair wet on concerts and all that, so it's no wonder if Nino has dirty fantasies about him, lol
Thanks for sharing!