Warnings: Smut, mild BDSM (involving the use of handcuffs), biting, dirty talk, mild bloodplay, blowjob, some sap.
Pairing: Reita (The GazettE)/Aoi (The GazettE)/Miyavi (solo, S.K.I.N.)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: “Because I’ve been thinking that we should re-christen the house, since we’ve moved in. Every single room. Sound good to you, Aoi-chan?” Of course it sounds good to Aoi.
Comments: This is for coiled_iris, again. ^.^ She wanted more of my dominant!Reita and uhm… more of my needy Aoi, too, I believe. So, yeah. Here you go, bebe. Hope you enjoy it, and I hope the rest of you wonderful readers enjoy it too! I’ve missed writing these three together. Again, this is in two parts because LJ is evil. >_>;
The first thing Aoi heard when he opened the door was an acoustic guitar, which meant that Miyavi was home from the studio. He was playing quietly in the living room, and Aoi just stood there for a few moments, holding bags of groceries and listening to Miyavi play.
Minutes passed, and eventually, Aoi gently set the groceries down on the table (he could go back to the car for the rest of them later) and he crossed the kitchen, pausing when he reached the doorway of the living room. Miyavi was still playing, eyes closed, and he was leaning back against Reita. Reita’s eyes were closed as well, one arm wound around Miyavi’s waist. Aoi watched them—watched Miyavi’s fingers move along the strings of his beloved black acoustic and watched a smile form on Reita’s lips, and he couldn’t help but smile as well.
Miyavi opened his eyes then and returned Aoi’s smile. “Back from grocery shopping, I see,” he stated. His smile turned into a grin and he nudged Reita in the ribs. “Making him go for groceries all by himself. You should be ashamed, Rei~.”
Aoi shook his head, chuckling. “No. I volunteered to go on my own. Didn’t want you to have to come back to an empty house.”
Miyavi tilted his head and gazed at him, the look in his eyes a mix of curiosity and tenderness at Aoi’s words. He stopped playing and straightened (though his body never fully lost contact with Reita’s), setting the guitar aside, and Aoi suddenly had the feeling that he had either said or done the wrong thing.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he began. He would have said more, but Reita cut him off.
“You didn’t,” Reita assured him. “You never interrupt.”
Without breathing a word, Miyavi reached out, arms open, and Aoi went to him, to them, joining them on the couch, content for the moment to inhale their scent and feel their warmth. It was the perfect thing to come home to, and Aoi hoped that he would never be faced with the prospect of not coming home to this. It was too precious—they were too precious. They were his everything.
The brunette snuggled closer to Miyavi and reached for one of Reita’s hands. He linked their fingers together and pulled that hand closer, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Reita squeezed his fingers lightly in response, and Aoi squeezed back.
“Perfect,” Miyavi said, and he sounded so undeniably happy. “You and you and me.”
“Mm-hmm,” Reita agreed. “Should’ve moved in here sooner than we did.”
“You’re here now,” Aoi reminded them. “That’s the important thing.” And really, it was. They were here now--had been for three blissful weeks, and that was what truly mattered.
They fell silent then and Aoi closed his eyes, shoving the fact that there was milk on the table that needed to be put in the refrigerator aside for the time being. He loved moments like this, when it was quiet and he was in their arms. It was soothing, the knowledge that they were really here—really his.
“Not to interrupt or rush you or anything because I really don’t want to move,” Reita began, and Aoi started, only realizing that he had been dozing when the blonde spoke, “but would you like for us to help you get the rest of the groceries in?” Well, at least he was being thoughtful.
Aoi pulled back and smiled, nodding. “Yeah. We can continue this later, though, right?” He looked hopefully at both of them. Continuing this later sounded like a very good thing.
“We can do whatever you want,” Reita replied, rubbing his thumb over Aoi’s knuckles before releasing his hand. “Free for the rest of the day.”
“All yours for the rest of the day, baby,” Miyavi purred as he brushed a few strands of hair away from Aoi’s face, and Aoi licked his lips at that thought. The possibilities were endless. Of course, that could have been a perfectly inn—oh, who the hell was Aoi kidding? Miyavi was never innocent, not that either Aoi himself or Reita minded.
“All mine for the rest of the day, huh?” Aoi asked, purposefully making his own voice low and purring, because if Miyavi could play dirty, then so could he, damnit. “Sounds fantastic to me.” He leaned in and kissed Miyavi and then Reita before pulling away and standing. “Come on, then. The faster we get the groceries put up, the faster we can… continue where we left off. And we’ll see where it goes from there, won’t we?” He grinned and wriggled his fingers at them before heading back into the kitchen, Miyavi and Reita following shortly behind.
It didn’t take the three of them long to put everything up. Aoi was stretching to place a bag of chips in one of the cabinets above the sink, his back facing his lovers, when Reita told them that he’d ‘be right back’. Aoi closed the cabinet door and looked over his shoulder questioningly, but by the time he’d done that, Reita was already heading upstairs. Aoi supposed he could have been going to the bathroom, but there was a bathroom downstairs, too. The only place that Aoi could have figured the bassist would be heading to was the bedroom, but he had said he’d be back, which could only mean he was going to get something, right?
He rested his hands on the counter top, pondering the possibilities. “Where do you think he’s going?” he asked Miyavi, still not turning around.
“I don’t think,” Miyavi answered confidently, striding closer. “I know exactly where he’s going, and exactly what he’s going to get.” He came closer still, moving to stand behind Aoi, lips ghosting along the back of his neck, the gesture achingly familiar. “But don’t worry about that,” Miyavi continued, hands moving to rest on Aoi’s hips. “You’ll see soon enough.” Aoi felt his teeth then, biting down, though not hard enough to leave a mark. Aoi wanted him to leave a mark.
“Miyavi,” he breathed, and he leaned back against Miyavi’s body, a thrill running through him when the other guitarist’s hands moved from his hips to his thighs and back again. “… Why do I get the feeling that you’re playing the distracter, hmm?” he asked, but he wasn’t complaining about that either, if that were the case.
“What if I am?” Miyavi murmured, smiling against his ear. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you? Because I promise you that you won’t regret letting me distract you~.” Miyavi’s tongue flicked out, teasing at his earlobe before dipping lower, following the long line of his neck.
“No,” Aoi answered honestly, tilting his head to the side and biting down on his bottom lip. “I like how you’re distracting me.”
“Good. Because I like distracting you.” One hand drifted lower and over, rubbing him firmly through his jeans, and Aoi groaned softly, his own hands moving back, cupping and squeezing Miyavi’s ass.
“Mmm… you tease,” Miyavi husked, grinding slowly against Aoi as if in retaliation.
Aoi gasped and squeezed even harder, tilting his head back so that Miyavi could see the look in his half-closed eyes. “I learn from the best, baby. I’ve had two teachers who are very skilled in the art of teasing.”
Miyavi raised an eyebrow and grinned, his thigh moving between Aoi’s legs, making the brunette’s stance widen. “Is that so? I’d like to meet these teachers of yours one day,” he teased. Then, he seemed to sober somewhat, and he ducked his head, nipping at Aoi’s shoulder, the palm of his hand still moving in slow but firm circles. “Our first night together, we found you like this. Except only you had a glass in your hand. I kept thinking you were gonna drop the damn thing.” He chuckled softly, and Aoi could feel the vibration of sound against his back.
“I thought so, too.” Aoi jumped at the sound of Reita’s voice. One of these days, he just knew that the blonde was going to give him a heart attack. Reita would have to stop being so damn sneaky, or something.
“I nearly did,” Aoi admitted. “Everything happened kind of fast. It was a bit of a shock to the system.”
“Ah, but you wanted it,” Miyavi said, the hand that wasn’t massaging his groin sliding up, fingers slipping under the cloth of Aoi’s shirt to caress his skin. “You had been listening to us that night….”
Aoi felt himself blush. He had listened to Miyavi and Reita as they had sex that night, and he had jerked himself off listening to them, too. “Yes. Because I wanted you.”
“We wanted you, too.” Reita sounded closer, but Aoi didn’t turn around to see where he was. “We still want you. We always want you. Always.”
Aoi shuddered at that, and at the same moment, something twisted in his chest. This, too, was a sweet, familiar ache. “I want you too.” It was the truth. He wanted them then, and he wanted them now. Wanted them just as much as he ever did, and he knew that they would always be able to make him feel this way—they would always be able to make his heart leap; they would always be able to send waves of lust and want and need surging through him.
“We went to the living room, that night.” Miyavi rolled his hips again and both he and Aoi gasped, and after a second or two, Miyavi continued: “And after that, we went to the bedroom. Reita had wanted to stay in the kitchen… He said the he could have fucked you right there on the table, if I recall correctly.”
“Good memory,” Aoi groaned, words momentarily leaving him as he felt Miyavi’s fingers skitter over his nipples. “… I also remember the three of us fucking on that very table, more than once.”
“You’ve got a good memory, too,” Reita said, and Aoi didn’t have to look at the bassist to know that he was smiling. “I won’t ever forget the look on your face when we bound your wrists with my nose strap. Or when you watched Miya used a piece of ice to fucking torture me.”
Both Aoi and Miyavi shuddered at that, and the hand between Aoi’s legs stilled. He whined, rocking forward, wordlessly asking for more friction, but Miyavi didn’t grant his unspoken request, the evil bastard. Instead, he rubbed his thigh up and down, moving high enough so that he brushed against Aoi’s balls, and Aoi groaned helplessly, grabbing handfuls of Miyavi’s pants and twisting them in his fingers. “Oh, fuck, Miyavi….”
“Is that a request?” Miyavi asked, and suddenly, Aoi felt his teeth again, at the place where his neck and shoulder met. When Miyavi bit down this time, he bit down hard, leaving a mark as Aoi had wanted him to do earlier. Miyavi’s tongue soothed the mark that he had just made before he drew back. “Because I’ve been thinking that we should re-christen the house, since we’ve moved in. Every single room. Sound good to you, Aoi-chan?”
It sounded fucking fantastic to Aoi. “Is that why you went upstairs, Rei?” he asked their blonde lover, voice breathy. “To go upstairs and get lube for the ‘re-christening’?”
“That was one of the reasons,” Reita replied. “The other was so I could get these.” Aoi heard the sound of metal against metal then, and he knew that sound. The sound alone helped to fuel the flame that was growing inside of him. His cock jumped at that sound and he turned to look, already knowing what he would see.
Sure enough: clutched in one of the bassist’s hands was a set of silver handcuffs. Aoi’s lips parted—he wanted to speak, to say something, anything at all, but no sound would leave him, save for a soft “unhhh”. It was amazing just what the sight of seeing Reita holding handcuffs could do to him.
“You like the sight of that, don’t you?” Miyavi whispered, lips against his ear once more. Abruptly, Miyavi stepped back, tugging at Aoi’s belt loops, urging him to turn around. When Aoi did as Miyavi wanted, Miyavi smiled slyly down at him. “We know you like being bound and helpless. Tell me, love, how do you like this little scenario: You, on the living room floor, hands cuffed to one of the legs of the coffee table. Reita fucking you while I suck you off? How hard does that make you?”
Aoi would have answered that he really, really liked that idea, and he would have also told the taller guitarist that he was already so hard that it almost hurt, but Miyavi didn’t really give him the chance to answer. In the next instant, Miyavi’s lips were on his own, hard and demanding and insistent, and Aoi opened for him, letting him in. When he parted his lips for Miyavi, the kiss automatically gentled somewhat; it morphed into something long and slow and sweet as Miyavi leisurely explored every single bit of Aoi’s mouth before twining their tongues together, and Aoi felt like cursing himself for the thousandth time for having such goddamn weak knees.
Aoi didn’t try to fight; he didn’t try to dominate the kiss. He simply kissed back, giving Miyavi the same tender pleasure that was laced with something else—some unnamable emotion, some ache that twisted and burned low in Aoi’s body. Apparently, Miyavi was feeling that same ache.
Miyavi pulled back first, leaving both of them gasping for air. “Let’s do that, Rei. Fuck. Just thinking about it is making me…. God, Aoi…. Wanna….” Holding Aoi’s hips tightly, he ground himself against him, and Aoi felt exactly how that thought was affecting Miyavi.
”Oh,” Aoi moaned softly, fingers finding and clutching at Miyavi’s shirt. “Please. Do that. Yeah. Rei….” He turned his head to gaze imploringly at the bassist, his mouth practically watering at the look in those dark eyes.
“Play nice and let him go, Miya,” Reita said as he moved to step behind Miyavi. “And yes, I do have a good reason.” His free hand ran lightly along Miyavi’s side, and with what seemed to be a great force of will, Miyavi released Aoi’s hips, but he did not otherwise move.
“Come on, Rei.” Though Miyavi spoke to Reita, he kept his eyes glued to Aoi. Aoi stared right back up at him, still clinging to his shirt, wanting to feel Miyavi’s lips on his own again. “You want it too. Wanna watch me wrap my lips around his cock. You wanna watch the muscles of his arms work as he tries to touch us. You wanna watch that gorgeous face of his while you fuck him—while he loses all sense of control. You can’t tell me you don’t.”
“Reita.” Aoi certainly didn’t mean to sound that desperate, but he couldn’t help it. Yeah, he wanted that. He wanted that and whatever else they would give him. He wanted that and more, and he wanted it now. They could find some way to chain him to the fucking wall if they wanted to—he didn’t care how they did it. He just wanted them. He wanted their hands and their mouths on him. He wanted to feel one or both of them inside of him.
“Sounds tempting.” Reita sounded utterly calm save for the thick undercurrent of want in his voice. Aoi could tell he was very interested, but there was something in his eyes—some mischievous gleam that he saw more often in Miyavi’s eyes. This little gleam meant that something was up. Aoi narrowed his eyes slightly, confused, but Reita only winked at him. “I have something a little different in mind, though. I’m sure neither of you will mind.”
Then, before Aoi could question the blonde – before he could even blink, really – Reita grabbed Miyavi’s arms (Miyavi seemed too shocked to struggle) and pinned them behind his back. Click, click, and the cuffs were closed, and Miyavi was wide-eyed and squirming a bit, apparently testing to make sure the cuffs were really closed and that this had actually just happened.
“Rei?” Miyavi asked, voice wavering, caught somewhere between uncertainty and arousal. Aoi couldn’t blame him, because he was a bit confused, too. “What…? I thought we would--”
“Later,” Reita interjected, and he pulled Miyavi closer, skimming his lips down the side of his neck in wet, pseudo-kisses. “I have something else in mind for the three of us right now, and you’ll fucking love it too, baby, I promise.” His hand moved down, rubbing the bulge in Miyavi’s jeans much like Miyavi had rubbed the bulge in Aoi’s jeans, and the brunette watched in something akin to fascination as the confusion on Miyavi’s face was chased away and replaced once more with sheer lust. It was indeed something to watch that transition—to watch Miyavi give in like that, like Aoi gave in to him (to them), with no real struggle. He simply let things be as they were.
Or so Aoi thought.
Reita grabbed Miyavi’s hips again, making him turn around, and Aoi moved to one side a little, watching them raptly, his cock throbbing in his now-too-tight pants the whole time. Miyavi’s heavy-lidded eyes closed completely when Reita tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair and dragged him roughly down for a kiss, and that was when Miyavi fought.
Lips and tongue and even teeth visibly battled, and after long moments, Miyavi finally relented, seeming to melt into the kiss as Reita’s hands worked their way beneath his shirt. Miyavi moaned into the kiss, and Aoi found that somewhere amidst all of this, he had forgotten to breathe. He inhaled a shaky breath, hands balling into fists at his sides, nails digging into the skin of his palms. The blossoming pain helped to distract him somewhat—helped to keep him from swaying or stumbling and sliding to the fucking floor right then and there. He would never get tired of watching them, either; he would never get tired of watching them kiss, whether the kiss was slow and sensual or frantic and filled with desire. He would never get tired of seeing them touch, of seeing them fuck, or of seeing the way they looked at each other and the way they looked at him.
When Reita broke away from the kiss, Aoi noticed that Miyavi’s lips were slightly swollen. He imagined those lips wrapped around his length, moving slowly up and down, becoming even more swollen, and he couldn’t swallow the soft, needy noise that worked its way out of his throat. He stepped back, leaning heavily against the counter, his gaze now inexplicably drawn to Reita’s pink tongue as it darted out to trace over his lips. Oh, yes. He could all too easily imagine the blonde’s tongue elsewhere, too.
Miyavi turned to face Aoi once more, the links of the chain joining the cuffs clinking lightly together as he moved. He met Aoi’s gaze, and Aoi heard his breath catch for just an instant before the younger man released it in a low, almost-desperate whine. “Will you fucking look at him, Rei? Look at how much he wants us. You planning on denying him? Even when he’s looking at us like he’s a natural-born sexpot?”
“I see him, Miyavi,” the blonde bassist answered calmly. “And I plan on giving him what he wants.” Aoi noticed then that Reita’s hand still hadn’t left Miyavi’s hair—dark strands were still wound tightly around his fingers, and he knew firsthand how much it both hurt and felt undeniably pleasurable at the same time. He’d had both of their hands in his hair enough to know exactly what Miyavi was feeling right now, and that knowledge made him feel even more unsteady.
Aoi recalled a time when, right here in the kitchen, the very same thing had happened, except only the roles had been reversed: Strands of blonde had been coiled around Miyavi’s fingers, and from the looks of it, Reita had enjoyed that, too. This was another one of those endless sources of fascination for Aoi—the fact that his lovers could switch so easily, so readily, without so much as batting an eyelash. It definitely made things interesting, to put it mildly.
Reita’s hand left Miyavi’s hair and he all but sauntered over to where the brunette was still leaning against the counter, stopping in front of him, so close that they were almost touching. His gaze traveled down Aoi’s face, lingering for just a moment on his lips before continuing downwards, following the smooth column of Aoi’s throat and eventually settling on the mark that Miyavi had made moments ago.
The blonde reached out, lightly tracing the edges of the mark with his index finger. That particular spot of skin was now hyper-sensitive, the gentle touch seeming to burn him, but even as that thought filtered through the pleasured haze Aoi was lost in, he dismissed it, knowing that it sounded ridiculous.
“I see you’ve left a nice mark here, Miya,” Reita said, his tone light and conversational.
“I did,” Miyavi agreed, his voice tinged with something akin to pride.
“Well, then….” Reita trailed off, running his finger back up Aoi’s neck and along his jawbone, and Aoi shivered, leaning into the touch. “… I suppose it’s only fair that I leave my mark too, right? On the other side, just to make it even. What do you think, Aoi~?”
Reita had to ask? No… certainly not. He already knew what Aoi was going to say—all three of them knew what Aoi was going to say. What the blonde wanted was to hear Aoi say yes.
Even knowing what Reita wanted, it took Aoi a couple of tries to tell the bassist what he wanted to hear. The first time, the words got jumbled in his head before he could say them. On his second attempt, they got stuck in his throat. Apparently, the saying about ‘the third trick’s a charm’ was correct, though, because Aoi managed the words on the third try: “I think it’s a good idea.”
“Thought so.” Reita pulled him away from the counter then, arms sliding around his waist and holding him tightly. Aoi had precious little warning before Reita sank his teeth into the exact same spot that Miyavi had bitten, only on the opposite side (it was like a mirror image, Aoi supposed), and Aoi cried out at the pleasure and pain of it, his hands moving up and clawing at the back of Reita’s shirt even as he bit down on his lip to try to (unsuccessfully) stifle a moan.
When Reita finally drew back, Aoi was shaking. He held onto Reita tighter, not wanting the bassist to let him go. Reita kept his arms around his waist and grinned down at him smugly. “Now you match,” the blonde told him. “Looks good, doesn’t he, Miyavi?”
“Fucking edible,” Miyavi replied, his words filled with desire that was almost palpable, and skirting the edge of impatience. “And I’m hungry, Rei.”
“Aren’t we all?” Reita asked before leaning down, brushing his lips against Aoi’s once, twice, and then he pulled back, not giving him a proper kiss. This frustrated Aoi, and, with a low growl, Aoi leaned up and pressed his lips to Reita’s, wanting something deeper.
“He’s getting impatient, Reita,” Miyavi needlessly informed as he moved closer to them. “I am, too.”
Don’t you dare fucking pull away to answer, Aoi thought, tongue lapping insistently at the seam of Reita’s lips. He nearly sighed when those lips parted for him, letting him in, and he explored Reita’s mouth greedily, hands slipping beneath Reita’s shirt to touch bare skin as they kissed.
Reita let Aoi kiss him for several long, sweet moments, but then he surged forward, nipping lightly at Aoi’s tongue before shoving his own tongue into the brunette’s mouth, not taking no for an answer (not that Aoi would have said no, anyway). Reita’s tongue caressed and curled, tickled and teased, until the brunette was moaning against his mouth. Then Reita ground their cocks together – a positively evil distraction – and Aoi tore his mouth away from the bassist’s, drawing in deep, tremulous breaths as he arched his back and closed his eyes, surrendering to whatever it was that Reita wanted.
Reita’s hands slid to the front of Aoi’s jeans, deft fingers undoing the button and the zipper whilst Aoi moaned Reita’s name and Miyavi whispered something along the lines of “fuck yeah”. Aoi heard the chain rattle again and he opened his eyes, only to find himself staring at Miyavi—at the want and the desperation scrawled all over his face. He could relate to that. He wanted to kiss him, but he could quite stretch that far.
“I want to—oh!” Aoi cut himself off, hips bucking up as Reita’s fingers found and squeezed his length, his head tipping back and his eyes closing once more as he concentrated on the feel of those calloused fingers squeezing and stroking him.
“Rei. Rei, let me.” The chain rattled more violently, and Miyavi’s voice grew more insistent by the second. “Let me suck him off. Right here, right now. Pull his pants off and fuck him while I do it. Please.”
“No,” Reita answered, his hand leaving Aoi’s cock (much to Aoi’s disappointment). He turned to look at Miyavi. “Not in here. That’s what you said, that first night.” He took a step back, away from both of them, forcing Aoi to let him go. “I want you to take off your clothes, Aoi.”
Aoi complied, though he didn’t understand why Reita didn’t just do it himself. Even though his jeans were already undone, he removed his shirt first, letting it fall to the floor before he shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips. He bent to tug them the rest of the way off, and they landed on the kitchen floor with a muted rustle. He could feel their eyes on him – practically burning into him – as he straightened, meeting Reita’s heavy, lustful gaze. “And now?” he asked as he placed the palms of his hands on the counter and spread his legs a little wider in open invitation. “What do you want me to do now?”
Reita raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. “Now, I want you to take Miyavi into the living room. When you get there, open one of the cuffs just long enough to cuff him to one of the legs of the couch. That couch is nice and sturdy—it’ll keep him in place. Can you do that for me, Aoi-chan, or have I given you too much responsibility~?”
“I can do it,” Aoi replied somewhat huffily as he pushed away from the counter, determination making his legs feel a little less jelly-like. Once he reached Reita, he pressed his naked body against the bassist’s fully-clothed one (why was he the only one naked, anyway?) and wrapped an arm around Reita’s neck, sliding his fingers into blonde locks. He tipped his head back and leaned up, as if to kiss the other man, but he paused just short of doing so. “I suppose you’ll see when you join us in the living room, won’t you?”
Reita neither pulled away from him nor moved to close the distance between their lips. “I suppose I will,” he agreed before leaning down to tug at Aoi’s lipring with his teeth. The guitarist hissed softly and Reita pulled away from him once more. “Go on. I’ll be there soon.”
Aoi nodded and moved to stand in front of Miyavi, hands moving to rest on the soloist’s chest without his permission—he was unable to resist the temptation to touch him, which wasn’t surprising at all, really. “Come on, Miya,” he said, arms sliding easily around the other’s waist, the fingers of one hand playing idly with the chain linking the cuffs. “Let’s go into the living room.” He began walking then, guiding Miyavi’s steps all the way to the living room just to make sure that the other man didn’t trip over something whilst walking backwards.
Once he was near the couch, Aoi sank to the floor and Miyavi followed him, but when their knees touched the floor, Aoi felt something flutter in his stomach. He had told Reita that he would be able to do what Reita wanted, but now that they were here like this, he wasn’t entirely sure that he could. Which was stupid, really. He had cuffed Miyavi to the bed on several occasions, but those times had felt a bit… different, somehow. Different in a way that Aoi couldn’t quite explain. The only thing he really knew right now was that Miyavi was smirking at him with a devious gleam playing in his eyes, and that could only mean that he was up to something.
“Well,” Miyavi began as he leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Aoi’s lips, “you gonna do what Rei said? Undo one of the cuffs for me, and I’ll even be nice and lay down for you so you can do the rest.”
Aoi hesitated for a moment before he reached around Miyavi’s body, and within seconds, Miyavi’s left hand was free. As the younger man hand told him he would do, he proceeded to lie down. He stretched his arms above his head and gazed up at Aoi, still smirking, lashes lowered.
Aoi didn’t quite trust Miyavi’s actions—he still thought something was a bit fishy. “And you’re going to let me cuff you to the couch? Just like that?”
“I’ve let you cuff me to the bed ‘just like that’,” Miyavi pointed out, and Aoi couldn’t really argue with that, because it was true… but still.
“That look in your eyes belies the way you’re acting though,” Aoi insisted. “There’s something else going on.”
Miyavi reached up with his left hand, gently brushing his fingers over Aoi’s lips. “Speed is of importance, Aoi-chan. In the time that you could’ve been cuffing me to the couch like you said you would, you’ve been pondering what I’ve got up my proverbial sleeve.” He tsked softly. “Wasting time~. But since you’re so interested, c’mere, and I’ll show you what’s ‘going on’.”
“No,” Aoi protested – albeit feebly – as he found himself being pulled even closer to Miyavi. “Reita’s--”
“Reita’s gonna be here in a second,” Miyavi interrupted smoothly, tugging even more until Aoi was straddling him. “Besides,” he continued once Aoi was there, on top of him, and Aoi could feel Miyavi’s fucking hard-on - yeah - right against his balls and he fought not to grind down against him, “I just wanna touch you, Aoi. Can’t I do that?”
Miyavi’s hands were already on his skin, anyway, resting on his hips, and Aoi found himself very unwilling to tell the younger man no. So, he nodded, his own hands wandering, fingers walking up and down Miyavi’s arms. Just for a minute, he told himself. Just a minute and then I’ll do what Rei wanted… and it’s not like letting him touch me is ruining plans or anything….
Miyavi’s hands moved from Aoi’s hips to his chest, thumbs and fingers pinching and rolling his nipples, and Aoi moaned less-than-quietly, no doubt alerting Reita to just what was going on (if the bassist hadn’t already figured it out by now). “Do you want my mouth on you, too?” Miyavi asked as he slid his hands back down Aoi’s body, nails raking lightly, leaving pink lines in their wake.
“Yeah,” Aoi murmured, tilting his head back and licking his lips. “Your mouth, your hands… all over me.”
“I see that I gave you too much responsibility after all, Aoi-chan.”
Aoi jumped at the sound of Reita’s voice and turned to look guiltily at him, suspecting that the look on his face was similar to that of a little boy who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar just before dinner. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead got incredibly distracted by Reita, who was now completely naked and heading towards them with lube and what looked like a pocketknife in one hand. Aoi briefly wondered what the supposed pocketknife was for before his eyes zeroed in on Reita’s cock, and he knew he was staring, but he really didn’t care. Besides, Reita would probably enjoy the attention.
“… It wasn’t my fault,” Aoi finally managed to say as the blonde knelt down beside them. “It was Miyavi’s. He distracted me from the mission.”
“What? Like Reita’s distracting you right now, you mean?” Miyavi purred as he shifted beneath Aoi, tearing a soft gasp from the brunette’s throat.
“Something like that, yes,” Aoi replied, turning back to glare at the man beneath him, who seemed completely unremorseful for pulling such a dirty little trick on him. “I’m supposed to be cuffing you to the couch, aren’t I?”
“Oh, yes,” Miyavi answered. “That’s what you were supposed to be doing, but I ‘distracted’ you and then you started singing a completely different tune—something about wanting my hands and my mouth all over you, right?” He grinned up at Aoi, one of his hands sliding further down, palm caressing the tip of Aoi’s cock.
“What am I going to do with you two?” Reita asked, sounding amused rather than disappointed or exasperated. “I tell Aoi to do something that ought to be fairly simple, since he’s done it before in the bedroom on several occasions. Instead, I come in here to find that Aoi is indeed distracted, and Miyavi’s hands are free.” He sighed, though it was obviously for dramatic effect, and then he bent down, closer to Miyavi. “Miya, you are such a bad, bad boy.”
“I am,” Miyavi agreed, both of his hands now sliding down to Aoi’s thighs, fingers lightly caressing skin. “I’m so sorry, baby~,” he apologized, though he neither sounded nor looked apologetic in the least. “Since I’ve been such a bad boy, what are you going to do to me~?”
Aoi couldn’t see Reita’s face at the moment, but the low, husky rumble of his voice made his balls tighten. “Well, Miya… don’t you know what they say about getting things done? If you want to get things done, you have to do them yourself. Looks like I’ll have to do Aoi’s job myself.”
“I could have done it,” Aoi grumbled half-heartedly, nipping lightly at Reita’s shoulder. “If you’d have just given me a few more seconds, is all.”
Reita turned to look at him, smiling lopsidedly. “Baby, if I had given you ‘a few more seconds’, it wouldn’t have made a difference. His hands still would have been free, and you still would have been hopelessly distracted by his free hands and his wonderfully talented mouth.”
Well, Aoi couldn’t really argue with that, so he didn’t try. He changed the subject. “So, you’re going to try to do what I failed to do, then?”
Reita’s lopsided smile widened as he set the lube and the pocketknife (Aoi could see now that, yes, his guess had been correct) aside. “I’m not going to try, Aoi. I’m simply going to do it. It seems that you need a memory refresher, and I’m all too happy to show you how it’s done.” The bassist reached for him, then, pulling him into his lap, their erections brushing against each other as he did so.
When Aoi trusted his voice, he said, “Looks like you’re the one trying to cause a distraction now~.”
“No. That’ll be later.” Reita kissed him lightly, and then patted his lower back. “Have a seat on the floor—I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Aoi reluctantly slid off Reita’s lap and moved to sit on the floor, and the instant that he did, he missed the warmth of Reita’s body. He missed having Miyavi’s hands on him, too. For the time being, however, he settled with watching his lovers, licking his lips and wondering if Miyavi would manage to get Reita sidetracked, too.
Reita reached for Miyavi’s arms, fingers encircling his wrists in what Aoi knew was a tight grip. “Now why didn’t you want to cooperate for Aoi-chan?” he asked as he pinned Miyavi’s arms above his head. Miyavi did struggle a little, but it wasn’t genuine—he wasn’t really trying to get away, and they all knew it.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to cooperate,” Miyavi replied, glancing at Aoi and winking. “It’s just that he was very easily… deterred. That’s all~. Oh, and I really did want to touch him, too. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all. I want to touch Aoi, too. Problem is, I didn’t tell you to touch him. I had counted on you being a good little boy and letting him cuff you to this couch leg, much like I’m doing now.” There was a dull clink as the chain of the cuffs met the wood of the leg of the couch, and then there was a click—the sound of the previously-open cuff being closed once more.
Miyavi tugged at his restraints a few times, though he gave up rather quickly once it became apparent that there was no way he could possibly manage to escape (again, Aoi knew that it was all just an act), and then gazed up at Reita. “Well, you’ve apparently got me right where you want me, baby,” he drawled as his lashes fluttered to half-mast. “What are the two of you going to do to me now?”
”Why don’t you answer him, Aoi?” Reita asked as he settled back, pushing slightly away from Miyavi. One hand reached out, fingers softly stroking Aoi’s lower abdomen, just above the spot where his cock is nearly touching his belly. Such a cruel tease.
Aoi swallowed hard, attempting to decide what to say, realizing seconds later that he was thinking entirely too hard (or maybe he wasn’t thinking at all since the majority of his blood seemed to be flowing to lower regions—one ‘lower region’, specifically) and that only a simple answer was required. He grinned and moved closer to both of his lovers, his leg brushing against Reita’s, the fingers of one hand running down Miyavi’s still-clothed chest. “I believe the proper response to your question, Miya-chan, is that we are going to do whatever we want to do to you.”
“Mmm.” Miyavi arched his back slightly. “Sounds delicious to me.”
“It will be.” Reita’s voice was still low and spine-tingling, his words ripe with a promise that would, no doubt, soon be fulfilled. He turned his attention to Aoi then, eyes roaming over his body once more. When he spoke again, he was still looking at Aoi, but the brunette knew that he was speaking to Miyavi: “He’s beautiful, isn’t he, Miya? As are you. Such a gorgeous body….”
“You are too,” Miyavi said softly, and then a bit louder: “Speaking of gorgeous bodies, how is it that I am still fully clothed? And if you plan on getting rid of my clothes, how are you gonna tackle the job of removing my shirt, hmm?”
“I have a plan for that, believe me.” Reita’s hand left Aoi’s body and reached for the pocketknife that the brunette had almost forgotten was there at this point. His eyes grew wide as Reita opened the knife, the blade sliding smoothly out, the light of the setting sun catching and reflecting on its finely-sharpened edge, momentarily dazzling Aoi.
Miyavi slowly licked his lips, eyeing the knife with what appeared to be a mix of suspicion, (ever-present) lust, and inquisitiveness. “And just what do you plan on doing with that, Rei?” he asked, though Aoi had the feeling that the other guitarist already knew what was going to happen.
“I’m going to get rid of your pesky shirt, of course,” Reita replied as though it were the most obvious answer in the world (which, it probably was, in a sense). He lifted the knife to his mouth, tongue following along the side of the blade, leaving a thin trail of saliva behind. He then smiled and tilted his head to one side. “It’ll make things more… interesting, don’t you think?” The blonde turned to look at Aoi again, as though expecting an answer.
Well, Aoi certainly believed it would make this more interesting. “Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “I think it will.”
“I do, too,” Reita agreed, and suddenly, Aoi found the blade beneath his chin, pressing into his skin. Reita wasn’t pressing hard enough to draw blood, but it was just this side of being painful, and it made Aoi’s breath catch in his throat and made his pulse quicken to an almost-frantic pace. He trusted both of them with his life; he knew that neither of them would ever truly hurt him like that—he knew this as well as they knew he would never cause them any harm. However, he had to admit that there was just something about having the point of the knife digging into his skin like it currently was.
Ready for part two? It can be found here.