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. >_>; Part One can be found here.
The blonde used the pressure of knife to bring Aoi’s face closer to his own and then he kissed him, just barely touching his tongue to the brunette’s before pulling away, the cool touch of the knife leaving with the warmth of his lips. Aoi wanted to ask for more, but he refrained from doing so. The focus at the moment was removing Miyavi’s shirt, after all.
“How much do you like this shirt, Miyavi?” Reita asked as he lightly trailed the tip of the knife down Miyavi’s chest, stopping at the top of his jeans, where they rode low on his hips. “This knife is sharp enough to very easily cut through it—I’ve made sure of that. It’ll slice through fabric – and skin – like slicing through butter. Easy as pie.”
Both Miyavi and Aoi shivered in unison, and then Miyavi bit his bottom lip, staying silent for a few seconds. Finally, he said: “It’s not my favorite shirt by any means, and it can be replaced.”
”Good.” Reita grabbed a fistful of Miyavi’s shirt and pressed the edge of the knife against the neckline, not yet slicing the shirt, but Aoi gathered from the looks of things that Miyavi’s shirt would soon be history.
“Wait Rei,” Miyavi whispered, and Reita paused, looking down at him questioningly. Miyavi continued, voice breathy, “Wouldn’t it be easier to just uncuff me? I mean--”
Reita didn’t let him finish. “Please do me a favor and make him shut up for a minute, Aoi-chan,” he said. “I’d do it myself, but I am otherwise occupied. He’s just whining because he doesn’t want to be the one restrained right now.”
Aoi leaned over Miyavi from the side, trying not to crowd Reita so that the bassist could still see what he was doing. He gently touched Miyavi’s face, and the younger man’s gaze averted from the knife that Reita was holding, settling on Aoi instead.
Aoi knew that Miyavi wasn’t afraid of the knife, or of what Reita could do with it. They had played games like this before, after all, and they had all enjoyed it. The look in Miyavi’s eyes was not one of fear, but excitement. His bottom lip was wet with saliva and a little swollen from having bitten it, and, feeling somewhat mesmerized, Aoi closed the distance between their lips. Well, Reita had said to make Miyavi shut up, hadn’t he? What better way to silence a lover than with a kiss?
Their kiss in the kitchen had started off as something fierce and demanding, but had gradually gentled. This kiss was the exact opposite: it was nothing but sweet and tender and gentle to begin with, Aoi’s tongue lapping lightly at Miyavi’s lips, patiently requesting to be allowed inside. When Miyavi’s lips parted for him, Aoi nearly smiled in triumph and explored the other man’s mouth fully. However, the leisurely pace of the kiss soon changed and became something more insistent as Miyavi bit at Aoi’s lips, and Aoi didn’t hesitate to bite back. Miyavi tugged at the cuffs again to no avail, the chain rattling dully against the wood, and Aoi kissed him harder, drawing his tongue into his mouth and sucking none-too-softly.
There was a soft hissing sound then, and curiosity bid Aoi to look, but he ignored it. It was far more important to keep kissing Miyavi like this; it seemed almost vital to hear those little growling noises that he made in the back of his throat as Aoi continued to kiss him. Anyway, the brunette had a pretty good idea that the sound was that of the blade parting the fabric of Miyavi’s shirt (as though the shirt were butter, as Reita had said). To satisfy his desire to know for certain, Aoi slid one hand down, fingers gliding over the delightfully bare skin of Miyavi’s chest.
Abruptly, Miyavi cried out against Aoi’s lips, sounding surprised, and the kiss was broken. Aoi looked at Reita, wondering what had caused Miyavi to react the way he had. Reita merely smiled at him and glanced down, and that was when Aoi saw it: a shallow vertical cut on Miyavi’s abdomen, about two inches in length, which ended just above his navel.
“Sneaky little fucker,” Miyavi said, though there was no bite to his words at all. He trembled visibly, and Aoi knew that the tightness of his jeans had to be beyond uncomfortable at this point.
“Like you’re complaining,” Reita snorted, grinning. “I felt your cock twitch when I did it, you dirty little boy, and both Aoi and I previously learned that you enjoy this.” He leaned heavily onto Miyavi’s lower body, his tongue swiping at the cut, gathering the blood there. Miyavi’s answering groan certainly couldn’t have been mistaken for one of annoyance—it was one of pure lust.
Before Aoi had even realized he had moved, he was beside Reita, his eyes focused on the cut that Reita had made. “I want to….” He trailed off before he could finish his sentence, feeling their eyes on him, and he felt his face grow warm with a rush of heat.
“You’ve done it before,” Reita said, and his voice was soft and gentle. “Have another taste of him, Aoi-chan. Of his vulnerability. Taste him. He wants you to. Don’t you, Miya.”
“Yes,” Miyavi answered without hesitation. “It’s okay, Aoi. I do like it.” He lifted his hips a little, as though in invitation, and when Aoi looked up, needing to see his face, he found no uncertainty in the other guitarist’s eyes. “You know you want to. You know I want you to. You know Rei wants to watch you do it.” And fuck, if Miyavi talking like that wasn’t a seduction all its own.
Aoi needed no further convincing. Lowering his head further, he let his tongue trail along the cut, much like Reita had. His lips closed around Miyavi’s skin and he sucked gently, feeling the muscles of Miyavi’s abdomen tighten as he did so. The coppery-tasting carmine fluid danced along his tastebuds, and Aoi soon drew back, not wanting to somehow open the wound further.
“Kinky, aren’t you?” Reita purred close to his ear, and Aoi felt himself blush even more at the same moment he heard Miyavi chuckle softly.
“You know he is,” Miyavi said once he’d stopped chuckling. It seemed, however, that he couldn’t quite keep himself from grinning as he said it.
“It’s your fault~,” Aoi replied, placing the blame on both of his lovers. “I was so innocent before I was with the two of you.”
“Not entirely our fault.” Reita’s fingers tangled in the brunette’s hair and tugged, not enough to truly hurt, but definitely enough to get Aoi’s attention. Reita then brushed his lips against the shell of his ear. “Besides, if I recall correctly, you were the one jerking yourself off while Miya fucked me.”
“And,” Miyavi added, as though tacking his words onto the end of Reita’s sentence, “you don’t know the meaning of the word innocent, baby.” In Aoi’s opinion, he sounded entirely too smug, especially considering the fact that he was the one currently restrained. Aoi believed that he and Reita should do something about that.
“Reita,” Aoi began, a shuddering moan escaping him as Reita pulled on his hair a bit harder, “don’t you think Miyavi is still a bit overdressed? I can do something about that, if you let me. I….” He trailed off, momentarily forgetting what he was supposed to be saying as the bassist’s teeth worried at his earlobe. “… I want to taste him, Rei. His cock. Can I?”
Well, that certainly seemed to knock Miyavi’s smugness down a couple of notches. He eyed Aoi hungrily, squirming slightly beneath the older man’s hands (which were currently resting on Miyavi’s sides), and then averted his gaze to look at Reita almost pleadingly. “Oh, yes, Rei. I want his lips around me.”
The fingers in Aoi’s hair relaxed and then released their hold. Reita nipped at Aoi’s shoulder before saying, “Uh-uh, Miya. You’re all tied up, right? And you were such a bad boy earlier, not letting Aoi do what I told him to do. You don’t get to call the shots. So if you want something, you’re going to have to ask.” And oh, how deliciously seductive his voice sounded when he made it dip low like that.
Miyavi’s pleading look turned into a long-suffering one and he frowned. “Ask? Can’t I just be suggestive?” He spread his legs a little, and Aoi caught himself staring. In his own opinion, it wasn’t necessary for Miyavi to ask, but… Well, it did sound incredibly hot when he begged.
No, it wasn’t necessary for Miyavi to ask, but Aoi wanted to hear him. He answered the younger guitarist’s question before Reita could: “Yes, Miya, you do have to ask.” His fingers trailed idly down Miyavi’s body, nails raking lightly over skin, and he nearly purred in satisfaction when he saw goosebumps erupt on Miyavi’s flesh. “I want to hear you ask for what you want me to do to you. After all, you enjoy hearing what Rei and I want—it certainly isn’t fair for you to not do the same, is it?”
“It’s very simple,” Reita said, his own hands beginning to explore again. The fingers of one hand closed around Miyavi’s length and tugged roughly, and Miyavi released a sound that was akin to a wail as he tried to lift his hips, but Reita’s other hand held him down and kept him from doing so.
“Oh, fuck,” Miyavi groaned, his breath leaving him in ragged, irregular exhalations as Reita squeezed and stroked him through his jeans. “I want you to—Reita, I want to feel—want to be naked… Not enough. Aoi’s mouth. Your mouth.” His words were garbled but Aoi understood them, and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to make Miyavi beg now, considering that the soloist’s eyes and tone of voice were already screaming ‘please’. Aoi knew it, and he knew that Reita knew it, too.
“But you aren’t being nice and asking,” Reita stated, not even missing a beat as Miyavi released a loud moan and began struggling against his bonds again, even though they all knew that it was of no use. Aoi knew from experience, however, that sometimes, trying to break free from handcuffs (or anything else that restricted movement of the hands, such as Reita’s nose strap had) was not necessarily a voluntary action. Sometimes, it was more of a… reflex, really—the need to touch overriding everything else, including deliberate movements and thoughts. Wanting - needing - to touch and being denied the ability to do so could be exceptionally cruel, but Aoi also knew that being bound and at another person’s mercy could be a freedom in and of itself. Quite a paradox.
Miyavi finally stopped tugging at the cuffs and settled down, gazing up at Reita and Aoi in a mix of helplessness and need. There were other things Aoi saw in that look as well, but those two emotions stood out the most. He did not note any of his earlier smugness, though—that had clearly been eradicated for the time being, at least.
“Please, Reita.” Miyavi’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke, but when he begged, Aoi knew that he meant it. “Please.”
Reita stopped stroking Miyavi’s erection and gently patted his thigh. “Oh, but you’re begging the wrong person right now, Miya. You had better be making that request to our Aoi.”
Miyavi’s fixed his eyes fully on Aoi. “Please, Aoi. Please. Need you. Want you.”
Hearing Miyavi plead like that was one of the most beautiful things Aoi had ever heard, and the desperation in the younger man’s voice seemed almost tangible, insomuch that Aoi almost reached for his pants right then and there, but he stopped himself from doing so. Miyavi hadn’t finished asking properly, after all, and Aoi was determined (though he had to admit that his determination was wavering badly in the face of such desire) to hear Miyavi tell him exactly what it was that he wanted. Nevermind that both he and Reita already knew.
Aoi breathed in deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady himself and not undo Miyavi’s pants just yet, his fingers practically itching with the desire to do just that. “You have to finish, Miya. You have to tell me what it is that you’re asking for.”
“Oh, that’s very good, Aoi,” Reita complimented, his fingers softly caressing the dip in Aoi’s spine, which caused the brunette to press back against Reita’s fingers without even thinking about it, silently asking for more touches, hoping that those fingers would move lower. But as soon as he pressed back, Reita stopped touching him and chuckled—that same low, throaty chuckle. “Soon, Aoi-chan. I believe Miyavi has something to ask you first, though, don’t you, Miya?”
Miyavi nodded mutely and then swallowed audibly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before saying, “Please suck my cock, Aoi.”
“Bingo.” With slightly-trembling hands, Aoi reached for Miyavi’s jeans and made quick work of the button and the zipper, too eager now to do what Miyavi had asked to be concerned in the least with taking his time. He shoved pants and boxers down together, and then Reita tugged them the rest of the way off. Aoi silently thanked the blonde for his help, and then allowed his gaze to settle on Miyavi’s now-freed length. It was a deep shade of red and seemed almost painfully erect. It couldn’t have been pleasant for the younger man to have his hard cock trapped in his jeans. Aoi understood that, too—having one’s erection confined in cotton and denim was not the most comfortable experience in the world.
Aoi would reward him for his trouble soon enough.
The brunette leaned over Miyavi once more, pausing with his lips mere inches away from Miyavi’s erection and hovering there for a few seconds, inhaling the scent of his arousal and watching the pre-cum glisten at the tip and then slide slowly downwards until Aoi feels almost dizzy and disoriented by the force of his want to please the man beneath him.
He caught the pre-cum on his tongue before it could slide further down Miyavi’s length, tasted it, and moaned low in his throat. The taste could only be described as Miyavi, and Aoi wanted more of it, that taste that seemed to slide along his tastebuds teasingly, igniting new sparks of heat elsewhere, only to retreat rapidly and slide down his throat, leaving him with just a hint of an aftertaste. He wanted more of that.
Aoi dipped his head further down, tongue tracing the vein along the underside of Miyavi’s cock before he reached the tip again, lapping greedily at the slit, head reeling when Miyavi said his name like that and begged for more.
Aoi gave him what he begged for, parting his lips further and taking Miyavi in halfway, swiping and swirling his tongue over and around the flesh inside his mouth, humming softly. He relaxed his throat and lowered his head further, not stopping until his lips hand reached the very base of Miyavi’s length. He remained there for a moment, humming softly before coming back up, hearing Miyavi hiss as he purposely dragged his lipring along sensitive skin.
Then Aoi was bobbing his head up and down slowly, taking more of Miyavi’s cock into his mouth on each downstroke, sucking so hard that his cheeks hollowed. Each time he moved, Miyavi made one of those low, groaning noises, which made Aoi’s balls practically fucking ache. To make matters worse (or better, depending on how one looked at it), Reita’s hands were on him again, fingers drawing invisible, nonsensical patterns on his back. His touch was feather-light, not enough, and Aoi wanted to ask for more but he didn’t want to stop sucking Miyavi’s cock in order to do so.
Aoi was just about to draw back far enough so that he could suck on just the head, but before he could, he found Reita’s hand in his hair again. Reita twisted his wrist sharply and pulled so hard that there was more pain that pleasure, and Aoi couldn’t help but cry out in a mix of pain and protest – and even a little pleasure – as Reita jerked him away, Miyavi’s cock sliding out of his mouth with a wet pop.
Miyavi protested as well, lifting his hips as if he were trying to follow Aoi’s mouth, though Aoi was now out of his reach. “Reita! Reita, why? Let him… fuck, Reita, please let him keep going!”
Aoi’s hair was then released, and he barely refrained from rubbing at his now-aching scalp. Reita did not answer Miyavi, but he smiled at Aoi, flashing teeth, and the brunette believed that that particular look was rather feral. He had the feeling that it wasn’t meant to be frightening, but if it was, frightened was the exact opposite of how he felt right now. Hell, he’d had the point of a knife under his chin just moments ago, and that had been exciting. He supposed that that’s what happened when one trusted one’s lovers so completely—things that might usually be considered frightening became another tool to heighten arousal and pleasure.
“Sorry to so rudely interrupt,” Reita told Aoi, though it didn’t sound like he meant it, “but you were being awfully greedy just now, don’t you think?”
Aoi merely blinked at the blonde confusedly. How had he been greedy? What had he done?
“Keeping his taste all to yourself,” Reita clarified. “You probably would have sucked him off if I hadn’t stopped you, huh?”
Aoi didn’t attempt to deny it, because truth be told, if Reita hadn’t pulled him away, he probably would have done just that—he probably would have given Miyavi a proper blowjob, and more than likely would have even milked him dry. Nope—no sense in even remotely attempting to deny it. Instead, he went for truth: “Probably,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “But I could have kissed you after. You could have tasted him on my tongue.”
“Mmm. You know how much I enjoy that, but the thing is, Aoi-chan, I don’t want him to come just yet. That will be saved for later as well. And for the time being…” He trailed off, pressing a kiss to Aoi’s temple before leaning over Miyavi as Aoi had leaned over him. “… It’s my turn.”
Reita was so close to Miyavi’s cock that Aoi knew he had to feel the bassit’s warm breath tickling his skin. Miyavi whimpered, hands jerking and twisting in the cuffs as he stared down at Reita. “Do I have to beg you, too?”
“No,” Reita replied, even though Aoi knew that at this point, Miyavi wouldn’t have hesitated to beg anyway. “I am doing this because I want to, and not because it’s what you want.” It was a half-lie—all of them knew it (Reita would do anything and everything for Miyavi, after all), but neither Aoi nor Miyavi attempted to point out the obvious.
Unlike Aoi, Reita did not tease Miyavi by using his tongue and then taking him in slowly. Instead, he took all of his length in one go and held Miyavi’s hips down as the soloist tried to buck up into his mouth and throat. He drew back, concentrating his efforts on stimulating the head of Miyavi’s cock, and from the look (and sound) of things, his tactic was working.
“Ohhhh, god… Rei… more.” Miyavi tried to lift his hips again, but Reita continued to hold him down; Aoi could see that he was digging his fingers into Miyavi’s skin, and he knew that it had to hurt at least a little, but Miyavi was seemingly paying it no mind whatsoever because the look on his face didn’t hold a trace of pain. But then again, Reita was very talented at blending pleasure and pain in such a way that pleasure was somehow all that could be felt.
Reita began a rhythm, albeit a slow one, sucking and bobbing his head, still refusing to allow Miyavi’s hips the freedom of movement. However, the rest of Miyavi’s body didn’t keep still—visible tremors ran through him, his legs moved as though they were restless, his toes curled and then straightened, and his arms jerked again and again, fighting against his restraints.
As Aoi watched them, he noticed his breathing growing even heavier, and he didn’t even bother resisting the urge to touch and to brush his lips against bare skin. His hands reached for Miyavi first, touch gentle and soothing, lips and tongue working at the cut again, making it bleed afresh. He pulled away the moment that he tasted blood, thick and metallic on his tongue. Miyavi said his name, and then Reita’s name, and Aoi pressed a kiss to a patch of skin right below the younger man’s bellybutton before he moved on to Reita.
Aoi’s fingers ran through blonde hair—not pulling, just touching, wanting to feel the softness of it between his fingers. He nipped lightly at Reita’s neck, and Reita released a moan, though it was muffled. It was like a chain reaction: The vibrations of the bassist’s moan affected Miyavi, causing him to moan as well, and Aoi’s breath caught at their sounds, every single part of his body feeling like it was on fire.
“Rei,” Aoi murmured, the fingers of one hand playing over his back whilst the fingers of his other hand caressed Miyavi’s inner thigh, “can we have more now?” He was asking, even though he wasn’t the one tied up. He was asking, even though Reita hadn’t told him that he had to ask. He was asking because Reita was currently in the middle of something else. He was asking because Reita was obviously the one in charge right now.
A few more hard sucks (enough to make Miyavi emit a keening whine), and then Reita drew back, pressing a kiss to the tip of Miyavi’s length before looking at Aoi, a small smile playing on his lips. “You really are impatient, aren’t you?”
“I am right now,” Aoi replied truthfully as he rested one hand against Reita’s belly. “I want more. Something. Anything. Just… touch me, or fuck me or—”
“I still want to suck you off,” Miyavi interjected, and Aoi’s turned his attention to the other guitarist once more, head spinning at the words he’d just heard. He had been imagining the same thing in the kitchen—Miyavi’s lips wrapped around his cock while he thrust his hips as hard as he pleased. The mental images – combined with Miyavi’s words and memories of the numerous times when Miyavi had given him blowjobs before – made Aoi purr delightfully.
“I would really love that,” the brunette replied before licking his lips and looking questioningly at Reita. “Does that sound good to you? Would you like to see that?”
Reita placed a finger beneath his chin and tapped softly, making a small ‘hmmm’ sound, as though he were actually considering what Aoi had asked. When he answered, however, he wasn’t speaking to Aoi, but Miyavi. Also, he answered with a question of his own: “In the kitchen, you had the idea that you would give Aoi-chan a blowjob while I fucked him, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Miyavi answered, almost moaning the word. “I did say that. Will that happen, Rei? Please say it will now. I want to help you make him come. Please let me.”
Again, Reita avoided a real answer in favor of a question: “How badly do you want his cock in your mouth, Miya-chan? How badly do you want to feel his cum run down your throat?” His fingers brushed over the nest of curls that surrounded Aoi’s length, and that brief touch made Aoi whimper.
“Badly enough, Rei, trust me.” Miyavi’s voice was shaking now, and he was watching Reita and Aoi intently, no doubt noting every single move that they made. “Please don’t deny me. Us. He wants it too. I can taste him already, at the back of my tongue.” He was pleading with his eyes and with his voice—willing and shameless supplication. He wasn’t even asking for either of them to satisfy his own need for release.
“I appreciate that you are so ready to please Aoi and myself, Miya,” Reita began (and he did sound appreciative), “but considering your current position, I think that you sucking him off will be possible, but me fucking him at the same time? I just don’t think that’ll work. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that I might uncuff you for this, either, because it’s not going to happen, I assure you.”
Miyavi sighed in what Aoi assumed to be exasperation, though it morphed into a high-pitched, needy sound at the end. “Reita.”
“You can fuck him, Rei,” Aoi suggested, torn between frustration and need. “You can fuck Miya while I… occupy his mouth.”
Reita tilted his head to one side and Aoi caught a glimpse of that smirk again before it was gone. “That’s a very good idea, Aoi. What do you think, Miyavi?” He was asking Miyavi a question that Aoi already knew the answer to—a question that Reita knew the answer to as well. Fucking tease.
“I think I want it. You. Both of you. Right the fuck now.” The desperation was still evident in those words—his voice was still thick with it; however, there was also an underlying tone of command, barely detectable, but it was there.
“I’m sorry,” Reita began, though he sounded anything but apologetic, “but didn’t you forget something, baby?” He reached for the pocketknife again, trailing the tip of it along Miyavi’s left inner thigh. Aoi watched, fascinated, as the blood began to bead at that second shallow cut, and he trembled when he heard Miyavi’s breath catch in his throat.
Reita lifted his hand and brought the blade to his lips, pressing his tongue to it and licking away whatever blood that might have been there. “I believe you forgot that you’re supposed to be asking, Miya, not giving the orders. You’re the one tied up right now, remember?”
“I know,” Miyavi replied, averting his eyes. “I am sorry, Rei.” This time, the apology sounded genuine. “I do think it’s a good idea, though, and I do want it. So… please, Rei.”
The ‘please’ earned a full smile, and the blonde nodded. “I’d tell you no, but it’s incredibly hot to hear you beg, Miya, so I’ll say yes.” He proceeded to move closer to the couch, which momentarily confused Aoi, but when he reached for one of the small pillows on said couch, Aoi understood.
“Lift your head,” Reita told Miyavi, and when Miyavi did so, the bassist slid the pillow beneath his head and neck. “All right. Now you have some support—don’t want you complaining about a crick in your neck before you’re able to finish Aoi off.”
Miyavi snorted and rolled his eyes, though he smiled when he did so. “I appreciate your desire for me to be comfortable all of a sudden, baby, but if you remember correctly, I’ve done similar things in far less comfortable positions, and in the end, everyone was happy.
Surely Reita did remember, but if he didn’t, Aoi certainly did. At one point, all three of them had managed to somehow fit themselves into a very cramped bathroom stall (in a restaurant) and yes, all three of them had been satisfied with the experience, despite the fact that Aoi had protested and tried to point out the fact that they could have easily gotten caught. It hadn’t worked, because he had tried to tell them the same thing before, and they hadn’t listened. That particular experience had been no different. It had been… a delightfully interesting evening, to say the least.
“Oh, I remember,” Reita assured Miyavi, twining a few strands of the soloist’s dark hair around his index finger. “As if I could forget.” He leaned over, kissing Miyavi quickly before sliding back down Miyavi’s body, settling himself between legs that more-than-willingly opened wider to accommodate him. He then looked to Aoi. “Hand me the lube, Aoi. I’ll prepare him, and then you can… occupy - as you so brilliantly put it – his mouth to your heart’s content.”
Aoi wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out at the blonde, but he passed the small tube to Reita without comment. He watched as Reita opened the lube and squirted a dollop of it onto three of his fingers. Aoi wondered if Reita would tease Miyavi – tease all of them, really – by starting off with one finger and gradually working his way up to using all three of them until Miyavi was writhing and begging again—begging for Reita’s cock instead of his fingers.
That didn’t happen, though.
“I won’t tease you anymore, Miya,” Reita said before kissing Miyavi’s hipbone. “I want you, and Aoi wants you. I’m not going to be gentle, and I’m not going to go slowly.” It was the only warning he gave before he pushed those three fingers inside of Miyavi’s body, roughly twisting his wrist to the left and then to the right, opening the other man up.
Miyavi screamed at the intrusion, but Aoi could tell that it wasn’t a scream of pain—it was one of pleasure. Just a hint of pain crossed his features when he grimaced slightly, but it was gone quickly enough, and he shoved himself down onto Reita’s fingers, forcing them in deeper. “Yesssss.”
“You fucking love it, don’t you?” Reita nearly snarled the words as he thrust his fingers in hard and rotated his wrist again, tearing a strangled moan from Miyavi’s lips. “You love it when we get a little rough with you.”
“Yeah… Oh, fuck! Yes!” Since the blonde wasn’t forcing him to keep his hips still, Miyavi continued to rock downwards, fucking himself on Reita’s fingers. Aoi knew that he did like it rough from time to time—all three of them did.
As abruptly as Reita’s fingers entered Miyavi, they withdrew. Miyavi whined in protest, but Reita ignored the protest in favor of lubing himself up, and Aoi watched as he did that, too, almost swearing that he could feel his mouth watering as he watched Reita’s hand move up and down his cock. The bassist was using just enough lube to work his way inside—it wouldn’t be a gentle entry, either. He wasn’t using enough lube on himself for it; he hadn’t prepped Miyavi enough for a smooth entry, either. This time, there was going to be some roughness to it, but Aoi doubted that Miyavi would mind. He certainly didn’t mind.
“Aoi,” Reita said, and Aoi had to force himself to look away from Reita’s cock, from the hand that still rested on it, though he was no longer stroking himself. He met Reita’s gaze, absentmindedly toying with his lipring, and he could see the understanding in the blonde’s eyes. “Go to him. Shove yourself into him as hard and deep as you want, because that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Ohhh,” Miyavi moaned, and Aoi’s attention was once again captured by the younger man. He stared down at Miyavi and Miyavi stared right back, eyes full of liquid heat. “Come up here, Aoi.”
Miyavi didn’t even have to say ‘please’. Aoi scrambled up to him without a second thought, and soon, his knees were resting on either side of Miyavi’s face, nestled between his head and his arms. His hands were gripping Miyavi’s forearms, and his cock was brushing lightly against those tantalizing lips. “Now?” he asked as he looked back over his shoulder at Reita, who was running his hands up and down Miyavi’s trembling thighs.
“Now,” Reita agreed, and both he and Aoi shoved in at the same moment. Miyavi screamed again, though it was muffled by Aoi’s length, and when Aoi felt the muscles of Miyavi’s throat relax and then constrict around him, he moaned, his grip on the other man’s arms tightening.
Aoi heard Reita moan as well, and somehow he knew – he just knew - that those muscles had tightened, too. Pretty damn good reason to moan insensibly.
“Miya,” Aoi breathed, “I’m gonna… gonna move. Shove in again, deep.” It wasn’t much of a coherent warning, but hopefully, Miyavi understood and would be prepared for it. He gave a second or two for those words to register, and then he drew back and shoved in again—in and in, past Miyavi’s gag reflex, and he felt those muscles relax again, accepting him, though he knew that it took a conscious effort on Miyavi’s part.
Miyavi sucked and swirled his tongue around Aoi’s cock, and Aoi was certain that if he had been standing up, his knees would have buckled. Miyavi definitely knew how to use his mouth—that much had to be said.
“Fucking brilliant mouth,” Aoi groaned, thrusting his hips down again in a succession of short, jerky movements. “Always know how to use it just right.”
“Feels pretty ‘fucking brilliant’ down here, too,” Reita said as he shoved again, and Aoi felt just a slight scrape of teeth along his erection, and yeah, that felt fucking brilliant too.
They quickly found a rhythm together, Aoi and Reita. When Reita was thrust in, so would Aoi. They weren’t gentle—their rhythm was hard and fast and unforgiving, though not once did Aoi hear Miyavi make a sound of displeasure. He knew that Miyavi’s throat would be at least a little sore later, but he would make up for it. He knew of several ways he could make the other man forget that his throat had been sore in the first place. But that would wait until later, because right now, Aoi was so close, and he didn’t even feel like trying to delay orgasm—Reita had made them wait until his cock and his balls had hurt, and now, he was finally getting what he wanted, and Miyavi was taking it, taking it all and giving pleasure in return.
For what felt like a long time (though in reality, Aoi knew that it could have only been several minutes), there was just heavy breathing, moans and incoherent whispers and muffled sounds of pleasure, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and other such noises. There was the pleasure itself, too—mind-reeling, completely perfect, no doubt pushing all three of them to the brink. Aoi could feel how close he was, and he knew that it would only take just a little push for him to topple right over the edge.
Then, there was Reita’s voice, his words gasped out and running together, because he was still fucking Miyavi mercilessly and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down: “Know what I like about this position?” His fingers were inside of Aoi before Aoi could even process his words properly, much less answer. He was already too far gone, too lost in a haze of pleasure to make sense of anything else.
“This,” Reita said throatily as he began scissoring and thrusting his fingers inside of Aoi, fucking him roughly—fucking him like he was fucking Miyavi, fucking him like Aoi was fucking Miyavi. No gentleness at all. Again, Aoi found himself not minding the lack of tenderness as he groaned helplessly, shoving himself back onto Reita’s fingers and then forward into Miyavi’s mouth. Almost.
Another slick sound—one that Aoi recognized as lube on skin, and he knew without looking that Reita was now stroking Miyavi’s cock, balancing himself on his knees as he continued to thrust into him, over and over again. Aoi felt Miyavi writhe and shove his hips up, and felt him make more of those gorgeous sounds around his cock.
“Come, Miya,” Reita urged. “Come for us. Scream for us. Let Aoi feel it.”
That was exactly what Miyavi did, too. Aoi felt him tense up and he immediately stopped shoving himself into Miyavi’s mouth, though he made no move to pull away yet. Instead, he just rested there, nails biting into Miyavi’s forearms as the younger man shuddered uncontrollably and screamed around Aoi’s erection.
Though Aoi hadn’t meant for it to happen, the combined force of Reita’s fingers brushing against his prostate and Miyavi screaming around his cock triggered his own release, and he came in the middle of Miyavi’s orgasm, shouting loud enough that he was certain anyone within a five-mile radius heard him. He silently apologized as he heard Miyavi sputter a little before he heard the other guitarist swallow.
It was then that he pulled out of Miyavi’s mouth, repositioning himself so that he could bend down and kiss Miyavi comfortably in a tangible – though non-verbal – apology for the trouble. If Miyavi felt annoyed or any other sort of negative emotion, he didn’t show it. He tipped his head back further, mouth opening beneath Aoi’s, and Aoi kissed him sweetly, his tongue swiping at the sides and roof of his mouth. He chased down the taste of himself in Miyavi’s mouth, hands moving to cup Miyavi’s cheeks as they continued to kiss.
Finally, Aoi pulled back, though only when his lungs burned with the need for Aoi. He pulled back and turned to find Reita watching them in something akin to fascination. His lashes fluttered and his chest heaved, but he was otherwise still. A glance downwards revealed that his fingers were still wrapped around Miyavi’s cock, though they were no longer moving. Aoi could see Miyavi’s release, pearlescent and glistening on Reita’s fingers.
“Rei,” Miyavi said softly, voice somewhat hoarse, and Reita jumped a bit, seemed to come back to himself.
“You’re just beautiful,” Reita said, as though that explained everything. Aoi believed that it did, in its own way. He could relate to Reita’s sentiments. Beautiful.
“Rei,” Aoi echoed belatedly, and then he was moving again, sliding down so that he could press his lips to the fingers that still loosely fisted Miyavi’s obviously spent length. His tongue sought out that flavor too, savored the salty, somewhat bitter taste of it. His lips left Reita’s fingers, and then he pressed them to Reita’s lips in offering, breathing, “Taste.”
Reita released a shaky sigh against Aoi’s mouth before he kissed him, and the brunette opened to him, his own tongue darting forward to tease at Reita’s tongue, giving him a hint of the taste that he was offering. He both heard and felt Reita growl softly, and then Reita was kissing him deeply, making soft, wordless noises against Aoi’s lips. His hips, which had been still, began moving again, as hard and fast as before, though his thrusts were now considerably less controlled and more erratic, rhythm almost non-existent.
“It’s all right, Rei,” Miyavi said, his voice soothing. “Let go, let go. Let me feel you now.” Then, as if remembering, he added, “Please.”
That was, apparently, the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Reita cried out when he came, though Aoi greedily swallowed the sound. He held onto Reita as the blonde’s body jerked and trembled, and when he was eventually still, only then did Aoi draw back, but his hands didn’t leave Reita’s body.
“You okay?” Aoi asked, and when Reita nodded, he posed the same question to Miyavi.
Miyavi smiled. “Just fine, gorgeous. Throat’s just a tad sore, but I’ll be fine. No need for apologizing, because I wanted it, just like that.”
Aoi nodded in understanding, and then moved to snuggle against Miyavi’s side as Reita used part of Miyavi’s ruined shirt to swipe at part of the mess that still remained on his hand and Miyavi’s abdomen. Aoi watched as the bassist tossed the piece of cloth aside and then freed Miyavi’s hands, gently massaging his arms.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Miyavi commented, closing his eyes. He sounded perfectly content. “Keep doing that, Rei, and I might fall asleep~.”
Reita snickered, pressing a kiss to the taller man’s forehead before snuggling against him as well, reaching over to brush a few strands of damp hair out of Aoi’s eyes. “You can’t go to sleep yet, Miya. There’s still a lot of rooms left to… re-christen.”
Miyavi opened his eyes and grinned lopsidedly. “Oh, yeah. You’re right. Well, give me about ten or fifteen minutes and we can take this to the kitchen.” His gaze focused on Aoi, who looked back at him, somewhat startled. “Did you enjoy this, Aoi-chan?”
“I did,” Aoi replied, and he had.
“Well, I vote the kitchen is next, and that you get to wear the handcuffs this time~.” Miyavi stretched, otherwise seeming fairly boneless for the time being, happy enough to bask in the afterglow.
“I second that,” Reita said as he smirked at Aoi. “And after that, maybe we should try for the bathroom down here. Or the hallway. Or the laundry room. You know—work our way to the stairs. I’ll even be nice and let the two of you handcuff me to something.”
“You think we can fuck on the stairs without breaking our necks?” Miyavi asked. “I know we did it before but we were all a little… tipsy that night. And we were at the top of the stairs.”
“We’ll stay at the bottom of the stairs then,” Reita replied, as though that settled it. “Can’t break our necks from there. At least, I don’t think we can.”
Aoi snickered, but then stopped himself short due to the image that just popped into his head. When Reita and Miyavi nudged him, asking what was wrong, he told them what he had just pictured: “Just thought of you, Rei, cuffed to the railing of the stairs. Miya fucking you, and me fucking him.”
Reita’s eyes became heavy-lidded once more. “I think I like your idea, Aoi.”
“Me too,” Miyavi agreed. “In fact, I like it so much that I think I want to do that next.”
Reita blinked at him. “What happened to the kitchen? Are we skipping it?”
“No,” Aoi replied. “Not skipping it. We can go back to it, after we leave the stairs~.”
They had plenty of rooms left to cover, but the sun hadn’t even fully set yet. None of them had anywhere that they needed to be tomorrow—it was an off day.
They had plenty of time.