Perverse Rendezvous [Oneshot]

[h_itoshi]

Title: Perverse Rendezvous
Fandom: Kis-My-Ft2
Pairing(s): Fujigaya/Nikaido, Fujigaya/Kitayama, Fujigaya/Tamamori, Fujigaya/Senga
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/S, sadism (knife/bloodplay, wax play, whipping etc)
Wordcount: 8864
Notes: This plot has been lying around for years, and then suddenly, characters! Written to break justironic completely.
Summary: “Hello pets.” Fujigaya says, his voice deep and fond. He raises the knife to put the tip against the fingertip of his index finger, letting the handle rest gingerly on two fingers from his other hand, showing the weapon off to them. “Want to play today?”

Senga looks around, not quite sure where he is. It’s fairly dark, and it almost looks as though if he’s in a dungeon, walls made of roughly chiselled stone and no windows to be seen.

He tries to lean forward and look further, but something cold around his wrists stops his movements. He turns his head to look, and finds that his hands are cuffed to chains that hang from the wall on each side of the chair he’s sitting on. He tries jerking at one of the chains, but it stings his skin and he can’t get his arms further than 30 centimetres from the wall. He glances down at himself, wondering what the hell is going on, but he’s just wearing his favourite jeans and a white shirt.

A soft rattle from a chain makes him look up, and he gasps in surprise as he looks at the opposite wall and recognise two of his groupmates.

“Nika?” He whispers incredulously, as it was Nikaido’s chain that moved, but his words don’t seem to reach across.

Nikaido is sitting on the floor, legs clad in supertight dark pants and drawn in under him. He’s also wearing a loose white shirt, and has that half-long haircut that looks so good on him. He’s playing absentmindedly with one of the chains that goes to wrap around his wrists, twirling it slowly between his fingers, seeming to wait for something.

Next to him is Kitayama, wearing a traditional, soft-looking kimono in a dark, deep blue colour. He’s standing, wrists pinned tightly to the wall by dark metal hoops in the height of his shoulders. His dark eyes are unfocused under his long hazel bangs, but occasionally clears up for a longing gaze towards a staircase coming down on Senga’s left.

A huffed breath from his right makes him turn his head, only to look at Tamamori, leaning back against a chair just like his own. His hair is in his eyes as usual, and he’s wearing a sleeveless, jeans-like shirt, a thin dark scarf and dark pants with a kind of shine to them. He seems about as spaced out as Kitayama, but that’s not very odd.

What seems odd to Senga though is that they all seem to wait for something, but he can’t think of what. He glances back at Nikaido, who is now biting his lip, still playing with the chain.

“Nika?” He tries again, a little louder, but there’s no response whatsoever. It’s as if he’s in a sound bubble where he can hear everything but no one hears him. He squirms a little in his chair, trying calling the other members names, but to no use.

He’s just slumping back on his chair, wondering what to do, when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. The reactions around him are immediate. Nikaido drops the chain, Kitayama blinks once and then he’s fully focused, and Tamamori sits up straight. Their anticipation makes a shiver run down Senga’s spine, anxious about who is approaching and why.

He can’t take his eyes off the stairs as he first sees a pair of shiny black boots, followed by black tight pants and the hem of a crimson shirt.

Somehow, he isn’t surprised at all, but still draws a shaky breath when he realise it’s Fujigaya, because fuck he looks so hot. He descends the steps slowly, confidently, as if he has all the time in the world because the world would wait for him. He’s dressed in tight black pants and a long crimson shirt that’s loose enough to leave just a tiny amount to the imagination. The top three buttons are undone and a sparkling silver cross hangs around his neck, resting against tanned skin in a way that makes Senga stare. Fujigaya strokes back a strand of loose, wavy brown hair with a knowing smirk, all gazes in the room glued to him.

Something gleams in his other hand, drawing Senga’s attention, and his heart skips a beat when he realises it’s a knife.

Fujigaya only smirks cruelly, making Senga’s breath catch as intense eyes glance right at him for a second.

“Hello pets.” Fujigaya says, his voice deep and fond. He raises the knife to put the tip against the fingertip of his index finger, letting the handle rest gingerly on two fingers from his other hand, showing the weapon off to them. “Want to play today?”

Senga swallows hard, but the others don’t seem to have any shame in their want, Nikaido practically crawling towards Fujigaya even though he’s chained down.

Senga looks back at Fujigaya just in time to see a drop of red run down his finger from the tip of the knife, the steel having pierced his skin. Fujigaya doesn’t seem to care as he only takes the knife in his right hand and takes a few steps towards Nikaido, stopping just out of reach for him.

“Nika-chan seems eager enough.” He says innocently, reaching out his blood stained hand to Nikaido, who’s on his knees on the floor, pulling at his straining chains even more fiercely to reach.

A hot jolt of embarrassment and strange lust runs through Senga’s body as he watches Nikaido flick his tongue out to shamelessly lick the drop of blood from Fujigaya’s finger with dark eyes.

Fujigaya only draws his hand back with a slight frown, a harsh look in his eyes. “I don’t like that look Nika-chan. You look far too pleased with yourself.”

Nikaido casts his gaze down immediately, seeming to cower closer to the floor, and Senga shifts at how hot his best friend looks completely submissive.

“But…” Fujigaya starts, and turns to walk up to Tamamori instead, ignoring Nikaido’s abandoned whine. Fujigaya puts one hand, the one with the knife, on Tamamori’s thigh and leans in close to his face. Tamamori’s eyes widen and his breath hitches, and he looks so expectant that Senga catches himself wishing that Fujigaya would kiss him. But he doesn’t. “That won’t be too hard to fix.”

At his words, Fujigaya grabs Tamamori’s thin scarf and yanks, forcing Tamamori’s head to duck before the scarf slides off and into Fujigaya’s hand. When Fujigaya pushes himself up again, Tamamori gasps sharply, and Senga sees the knife has cut a thin hole in the shiny pants, and a slim line of blood is visible on his thigh.

“Oops.” Fujigaya just purrs before returning to Nikaido with the scarf, and Nikaido’s eyes widen as he realises what’s going on.

“Back up.” Fujigaya’s voice is hard as he gives Nikaido’s thigh a kick, making clear it’s an order.

Nikaido crawls backwards as quick as he can without looking away, his back hitting the wall with a dull thump. Fujigaya gracefully kneels next to him, laying the knife down with a soft metally sound between Nikaido’s spread legs, leaning in to whisper in his ear as he raises the scarf with both hands. Whatever it is Nikaido gets to hear, it makes his cheeks flush pink, and suddenly his dark eyes meet Senga’s dead on. It only lasts a second, before the dark fabric covers Nikaido’s eyes and Fujigaya ties it neatly behind his head, but that second of Nikaido’s pure lust has Senga’s own cheeks heating up.

Fujigaya leans back to admire his work, seeming content with the way Nikaido’s pink cheeks contrast the stripe of black over his eyes, and the way Nikaido tries to follow Fujigaya’s movements without seeing him.

“You look so good Takashi.” Fujigaya mumbles deeply, lifting the knife as Nikaido lets out a whine at the use of his first name. “Now don’t move.”

But Nikaido can’t seem to help but flinch when the metal brushes his throat, edge against Nikaido’s skin. Fujigaya lets out a low, threatening noise and presses the knife a few millimetres closer in a way that looks absolutely lethal. “I said don’t move.”

Nikaido gasps, but stays still, and when the knife is removed, two drops of blood are running from a needle thin cut. Senga shivers at the thought of how sharp that thing must be.

Fujigaya watches the blood run down Nikaido’s throat slowly, his eyes fascinated as Nikaido shifts against the slow trickle. The two red trails end up pooling together at the hollow of between Nikaido’s throat and shoulder, and Fujigaya puts the knife down to be able to unbutton the first two buttons of Nikaido’s shirt, pushing the collar aside.

Nikaido arches into Fujigaya’s fingers as they brush his skin at the action, but Fujigaya ignores him in favour of watching the blood. He leans in close to Nikaido’s neck, fingers gently holding the shirt’s collar away. He’s close enough to breathe on Nikaido’s skin, and he probably does, considering the way Nikaido squirms, cheeks blushing redder from the tease of it. Nikaido hates any form of teasing, and with the way Fujigaya’s lips are just barely on his skin, Senga can almost feel his frustration.

It doesn’t last for very long though, as Fujigaya soon tilts his head enough to dip his tongue into the tiny puddle of blood, and Nikaido moans, making Senga’s blush deeper and something twitch in his pants.

Fujigaya smirks then and pulls back, grabbing each side of Nikaido’s shirt and simply tears it open, sending the remaining buttons rattling to the floor.

Nikaido’s surprised gasp turns into a breathy moan as Fujigaya’s fingers slide slowly down his chest.

Senga swallows hard and bites his lip as he watches Nikaido’s face. His long bangs falls in his eyes, spilling in dark wisps over the even darker fabric of the blindfold, and onto his flushed cheeks. His lips are parted and his breathing is uneven and he’s such a perfect picture of arousal, not a trace of ordinary dorky Nikaido left. Nikaido chokes on his breath when Fujigaya’s fingertips brush his naval piercing, which Senga only recognises as a flash of silver.

Fujigaya smirks at that, shifting position to get more comfortable before letting his fingers run over the silver again more deliberately. Nikaido squirms as Fujigaya tugs lightly at it, so that it must be on the border of painful and good, leaning more towards painful. When Nikaido gives no vocal response to the tugging, Fujigaya braces one hand on Nikaido’s thigh and leans down. He strokes a strand of hair behind his ear, as if to make sure the others see, and then closes his lips around the silver, and Nikaido groans loudly.

Loud, Senga thinks, always so loud. But again, he can’t blame Nikaido as he has Fujigaya practically give his piercing a blowjob, and a good one too, from the sounds Nikaido makes.

When Fujigaya decides he’s played enough, he gives a final tug to the piercing with his teeth, before sitting up to observe Nikaido’s face with a superior smile.

Nikaido is a shivering mess, a blush spreading down his chest that’s rising and falling rapidly.

“You’re so pretty like this Nika-chan.” Fujigaya says slowly, his words echoing Senga’s thoughts exactly, and leans in to place a light kiss on Nikaido’s burning cheek, hand sliding up Nikaido’s inner thigh. “And you’re all mine. I almost want to write my name all over you.”

And the sudden dark tone Fujigaya’s voice takes on makes Senga feel like that wasn’t only a metaphor. Nikaido doesn’t seem to catch on, too busy trying to roll his hips into Fujigaya’s hand, small frustrated groans leaving his mouth.

Fujigaya simply removes his hand to pick up the knife again, and Nikaido freezes at the sound of metal against the stone floor.

Fujigaya’s smile fades into a face of concentration as he sets the tip of the knife to Nikaido’s skin, right under his collarbone on the left side, and draws the first line of his first kanji.

Nikaido draws a sharp breath and involuntarily shivers as Fujigaya continues to slowly draw lines, stopping mid-character to wipe away some blood with his thumb.

Senga finds himself unable to look away from the way the sharp blade splits Nikaido’s skin open at Fujigaya’s hand. It’s both disturbing and arousing, in a way that however much he’d want to look away as Fujigaya finishes the first kanji and Nikaido whimpers in pain, he just can’t. When Fujigaya finishes the final character of his surname, the first one is hardly readable, it’s more like a bloody mess, and Nikaido is shifting away from the knife.

“Stay still Nika, remember?” Fujigaya says coldly, before leaning in to wipe some of the blood away with his tongue, as if testing Nikaido. He does stay still this time, only stiffens a little as it must sting. Senga can only relate to accidental cuts of a kitchen knife and the pain of those, and half of him wants to tell Fujigaya to stop as he raises the knife to carve in his first name, but the other half wants to urge him on.

He does neither, only watches the kanji grow line by line, and Nikaido lets out a quiet sob at the final one.

Fujigaya sets the blood stained knife aside, and takes one side of Nikaido’s white shirt and presses against his writing. Red blossoms out on the white fabric in a macabre way, and Senga shifts uncomfortably.

But when the fabric is removed, the five characters for Fujigaya Taisuke are clearly visible, neatly written from Nikaido’s left shoulder and ends just above his right nipple. The lines shine in stark red for a few seconds before drops of blood start slowly seeping out of the cuts.

“Good.” Fujigaya praises and drops the wet fabric to stick against Nikaido’s side, the word seeming directed to both Nikaido and the way the writing turned out. Nikaido makes a broken little sound of pain that makes Senga want to hug him, but Fujigaya seems unimpressed.

“Come on Nika, you’re not fooling anyone.” He says darkly, his bloody hand dropping to Nikaido’s crotch, pressing his palm against the bulge in his pants.

The realisation of how turned on Nikaido still is sends an unexpected wave of heat through Senga, and luckily his little noise is drowned by Nikaido’s wanton moan as Fujigaya unbuttons his pants and slips his hand inside. But he barely gives Nikaido’s cock a squeeze before he withdraws his hand, sitting back comfortably and smirks at Nikaido’s obvious frustration.

“Why don’t you touch yourself if you want it so bad?” Fujigaya suggests, voice deep as his watches a drop of blood trace Nikaido’s abdominal muscles on its way down. Nikaido has no shame left it seems, as he shoves his hand into his pants without hesitation, and the way his head tilts back in pleasure as his hands starts moving is probably the dirtiest thing Senga has ever seen.

Nikaido’s moans go unmuffled, and the chain around his wrist rattles with the movement, and Senga doesn’t really want to admit how hard he is himself.

Fujigaya licks his lips and tilts his head. “Come hard for me Nika.”

And Nikaido does, on command none the less, his back arching and white staining his stomach and pants. When he slumps back, Fujigaya reaches up to untie his blindfold and Nikaido’s dark eyes, pupils dilated and slightly disoriented but so smothering almost has Senga come on the spot.

Fujigaya rises with a smile, just dropping the piece of fabric on the floor, before walking towards Kitayama, labelling Nikaido temporarily discarded.

“You look jealous Mitsu.” Fujigaya says, voice low as he stops half a metre before Kitayama.

Senga tears his eyes from Fujigaya’s tight jeans to actually look at Kitayama, and he’s almost knocked back by the look in his eyes; they’re so dark, and he really looks like he’d do anything to be Nikaido.

“Yes.” Kitayama’s voice is merely a whisper, but Senga still jerks in surprise that Kitayama speaks. But then again, of course he does, Kitayama always talks his way through things with that damned deep voice.

“And why is that?” Fujigaya asks knowingly, a dark smile luring at the corner of his mouth as he steps even closer, right into Kitayama’s personal space but not close enough to be touching him.

“I wanted you-“ Kitayama breaks off in a gasp as Fujigaya’s hand connects with his face in a stinging slap.

Senga flinches, the sudden violent movement unexpected, but Fujigaya’s sadistic smile blooms out, showing that he knew exactly what Kitayama was about to say.

“I’ve tried to teach you Mitsu.” Fujigaya murmurs, putting hands on each side of Kitayama’s head and leans in, face barely centimetres from the cheek that’s reddening from the abuse. “What you want doesn’t matter.”

Kitayama’s eyes fall closed, seeming torn between expecting pain and pleasure with Fujigaya so close. “I’m so sorry.”

His voice is hardly audible, but Fujigaya seems to hear exactly what he wants.

“It’s almost a shame you’re this nicely chained up.” Fujigaya says huskily, one hand tangling into Kitayama’s hair to force his gaze back to Fujigaya’s face. “Or I’d shove you to your knees to let you prove just how sorry you are.”

Kitayama lets out a longing noise, the hooded look in his eyes clearly telling Fujigaya how he’s dying to do that.

Fujigaya ignores it and only uses his grip on Kitayama’s hair to force his head to the side, starting to place feather light kisses along the exposed skin of Kitayama’s neck, lips brushing some stray strands of hair. “You’re so much trouble all the time.”

Fujigaya’s scolding voice is deep and husky against tanned skin, and Kitayama bites his lip, the light kisses seeming to do nothing but torture him.

“Count yourself lucky you’re so pretty.” Fujigaya makes it sound like a threat, and Kitayama jerks as Fujigaya suddenly bites down harshly at his neck. He does look less tortured though, seemingly more familiar with the pain than the light pleasure.

“Now will you behave?” Fujigaya releases Kitayama’s hair, staring straight at him with a look of power that makes Kitayama whine a yes.

“Good.” Fujigaya purrs and lets his hands drop to Kitayama’s shoulders, from there slowly sliding over the dark silk down to his waist in a caressing motion that has Kitayama shivering.

Well there, Fujigaya grabs at the fabric to pull Kitayama flush against him, Kitayama’s fastened wrists making him arch from the wall into Fujigaya, and he tilts his head back with a rich moan that has Senga’s mouth fall open.

He’d always thought the main part of Kitayama’s attractiveness lay in his knowing, come-hither look and body language, but this passiveness gets to Senga in an entirely different way. It’s odd, he’s never actually seen Kitayama just wait and let someone do exactly as they please with him.

Fujigaya hardly seems affected as his fingers trace the decorated obi to Kitayama’s back, where he starts working on the knot. He doesn’t actually undo it, but the obi loosens enough for the kimono to start sliding apart over Kitayama’s tanned chest.

Fujigaya seems satisfied with that as he reaches up to slip fingers under the edges of the fabric and pushes it off Kitayama’s shoulders, the silk sliding to a stop halfway down his upper arms.

Fujigaya takes a step back, making Kitayama groan in protest, and eyes his work. Kitayama’s eyes are dark, one of his cheeks still red from the slap and the other starting to blush for another reason, and he’s biting his lip as if to hold back a cascade of filthy things he wants to beg for.

“Mm.” Fujigaya makes a pleased noise and thoughtfully crosses his arms with a rustle of expensive cotton. He shifts his weight, a little laugh escaping him as that has Kitayama’s dark eyes glued to his hips.

“You want it that bad hm?” Fujigaya smirks cruelly, seemingly unaware of the other three pairs of eyes looking at him just the same way, but Senga’s certain he knows.

“Yes.” Kitayama dares a whisper that drips of want.

Fujigaya only keeps smirking, a hand coming up to twirl one of his light brown strands slowly, and Senga wants nothing more than Fujigaya’s hands doing that to his hair instead. The silence stretches on for a few moments that seem like ages as Fujigaya seems to think about what he wants to do, and Kitayama quickly grows impatient and starts shifting under Fujigaya’s gaze. The movement causes the silk of the kimono to start sliding, and one side slips down to hang off his elbow instead. Kitayama lets out a little frustrated sound and he looks so dishevelled Senga has to swallow a little sound of his own.

After what seems like forever Fujigaya finally steps forward and reaches out to run fingertips over the exposed muscles of Kitayama’s arm, just lightly enough it’s hardly a touch, but his eyes touches for him.

Kitayama lets a tiny moan slip past his lips and his eyes are almost closed as they watch Fujigaya’s fingers run up his shoulder, the hand still stained with Nikaido’s blood.

“Your skin is so flawless.” Fujigaya mumbles, but it doesn’t sound like a compliment, rather a concern. “I don’t like it.”

Kitayama’s eyes fly open in alarm, but the rest of his body doesn’t seem to mind the imposing mistreatment as he’s positively writhing against the cold wall. Fujigaya seems to notice that too and mumbles something that sounds like “desperate” as he withdraws his hand and turns to walk past Kitayama.

Senga is confused at first, since the only thing Fujigaya’s heading towards is a wall and a standing chandelier in the corner, but things clear almost too quickly as Fujigaya carefully chooses a candle from its holder.

Kitayama draws a breath as he realises what’s most likely to happen to him, but he doesn’t seem terrified, which Senga finds strange as he’s scared himself and he won’t even be near that candle. It’s strangely hot that Kitayama just accepts it.

Fujigaya smiles, a soft, alluring smile that’s illuminated beautifully by the candle he’s holding, and Senga’s insides tighten for another reason than fear. Fujigaya slowly walks back to Kitayama, careful not to spill any wax on himself as the flame moves with the air. He holds the candle up to Kitayama’s face, barely a decimetre away, and Kitayama seems to press himself into the wall, eyes vigilant as they are lit up by the flame.

“Mm, that glow in your eyes is gorgeous.” Fujigaya praises, and for a second Senga’s afraid of what Fujigaya might do with that candle. But just then he lowers the candle to a safe distance and instead leans in to gently press his lips against Kitayama’s slightly parted ones.

The kiss is light, just lips brushing lips slowly, but the high pitched little moans Kitayama lets out has Senga’s erection throbbing.

Then suddenly Fujigaya grabs Kitayama’s hair again, a harsh handful, and forces his head back to deepen the kiss, at the same time as he tilts the candle just above Kitayama’s shoulder, hot liquid wax spilling down his skin.

Kitayama’s broken scream ends up in a dirty moan as Fujigaya’s tongue parts his lips, and Senga’s torn between wanting the kiss to go on forever and wanting to see the damage on Kitayama’s chest.

Fujigaya pulls back then, also seeming curious about the result. The wax has hardened in a spilling pattern over Kitayama’s skin, tracing from his left shoulder and down to the last stray drops at the height of his navel. Some has stuck to the kimono in hard drops that seem to shine like pearls.

Senga bites his lip because that sure does look good on Kitayama’s skin.

Fujigaya leans in again, sniffs a little and then chuckles. “Smells like some of your hair got in the way.”

Kitayama stiffens noticeably, and Senga can faintly recognise the unpleasant smell of burnt hair.

“Don’t worry Mitsu, it’s still here.” Fujigaya takes the candle in his other hand to be able to thread his fingers gently through the hazel strands, and Kitayama seems to relax a little. Until Fujigaya’s hand moves to the hard wax and starts slowly peeling it off, leaving a stark red mark in the shape of the wax.

Kitayama whines as Fujigaya removes the wax and drops it on the floor piece by piece and then runs his fingers over the revealed red area, an occasional scratch of nails that has Kitayama yelping.

“Yeah, that’s a lot better.” Fujigaya says as he’s finally removed all the wax, inspecting Kitayama’s skin with a pleased look. “Red suits you.”

Kitayama looks up at him with pleading eyes from under his long bangs. “Taisuke… I want-“

Again he’s cut off as Fujigaya makes a swift movement with the candle that has wax splattering across his chest in instant punishment, and this time Kitayama’s scream goes unmuffled as he clenches his hands in pain.

“If you’re going to beg Mitsu, do it properly.” Fujigaya orders coldly, the candle adding to the fire in his eyes, the satisfaction from a moment ago gone.

Kitayama looks up at him, breathing rapid and face flushed in embarrassment and arousal. “Please. Taisuke, please…”

“Please… What?” Fujigaya asks viciously as he slowly strolls back to put the candle in its original place.

“Touch me, kiss me, fuck me, hurt me, anything! Please.” Kitayama breathes, not seeming to bother what he says anymore, and Senga feels like he would do all of those things to Kitayama right now if he could.

“Anything, you say?” Fujigaya’s sadistic smile is back as he returns to Kitayama. “But you look so good like this. I’m not sure I want to do anything at all.”

“No, please!” Kitayama’s eyes widen in panic. “Please let me get off.”

Fujigaya chuckles, obviously just playing with his food, but looks pleased with Kitayama’s reaction. He steps closer, and Kitayama sighs as Fujigaya’s hand run along the fabric of the kimono, searching its way within.

Senga stretches to see before he can catch himself, but there’s no use, the dark fabric blocking his view. His eyes immediately snap up when Kitayama moans loudly, head tilted back and eyes falling closed in pleasure, and it’s sure worth looking at, Senga’s mouth going dry.

Somehow it’s almost more erotic to only see the movement of Fujigaya’s wrist and the pleasure on Kitayama’s face, the way Kitayama’s loosing himself while Fujigaya still looks perfectly in control. Senga’s own breathing is hard, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this.

Fujigaya reaches up then, running fingers over Kitayama’s arm and shoulder with more pressure this time, and then ends up with fingertips on the new wax and starts peeling it off, and Kitayama comes with a wail, hands clenching to fists.

Fujigaya licks his lips as he watches Kitayama shudder himself out, the only sign that he even likes what he sees. He withdraws his hands slowly, leaving half of the wax still stuck on Kitayama’s chest, and glances at his soiled hand with a raised eyebrow, giving Kitayama one last look before turning away.

He smiles and walks over to Tamamori, who’s looking up at him as if he’s a god.

“Tama-chan.” Fujigaya mumbles fondly, and as he’s walking up to Tamamori, he’s close enough for Senga to smell his cologne and it sends a torturous jolt of want through Senga’s body. Fujigaya reaches his white-stained hand out for Tamamori. “Clean this up.”

Tamamori doesn’t hesitate a second before leaning forward, rather letting Fujigaya push fingers past his lips than taking them into his mouth himself. Fujigaya looks down with hooded eyes as he pushes in and out a few times before pulling his fingers out to let Tamamori lick the remaining come from his hand, Tamamori’s bangs dipping into it accidentally.

Senga has a way too good view of this for his own good, mesmerised by Tamamori’s pink tongue flicking out to trace one of Fujigaya’s fingers.

Fujigaya makes a humming noise and Tamamori immediately withdraws, clearly knowing the signals well, and leans back with glossy lips and stained fringe, waiting.

“Good boy.” Fujigaya praises, absentmindedly petting Tamamori’s hair as he glances behind him towards Nikaido and Kitayama, who both look back at him in adoration.

Fujigaya turns back to Tamamori with a smirk. “What should we play today...?”

Tamamori leans into the touch to his hair, and Senga’s almost convinced that he’s not going to answer. But then he opens his mouth, his voice breathy and soft.

“Anything you want.”

Fujigaya lets out a short, sweet laugh and withdraws his hand, giving Tamamori a long, considering look. “Sometimes I forget that you can act well trained Tama-chan.”

Tamamori doesn’t respond to that, doesn’t even smile, but there’s something proud in his eyes that Fujigaya immediately picks out and frowns. “Don’t get cocky.”

Tamamori’s eyes flash with something that could be challenge but could also be arousal.

“... Punish me for it?” He asks, voice almost begging.

“No.” Fujigaya says firmly, grabbing Tamamori’s chin to force him to look straight into Fujigaya’s sparkling eyes. “I’m going to hurt you because I want to.”

Tamamori’s eyes darken and he makes a faint noise, and Senga shiver involuntarily.

Fujigaya releases his face with a smug smile. “Stand up.”

Tamamori slowly rises, a bit shaky, like his legs can’t quite hold him up, and he braces a hand against the wall. That’s when Senga realises that the chains around Tamamori’s wrists most be almost two metres long; he could probably walk across the room and have Kitayama just out of reach. For a second Senga considers the thought that they’re chained up this differently so they’ll be just out of reach for each other. But then Fujigaya turns to look straight at him and all thoughts vanish from his mind, his heart nearly stopping.

Fujigaya seems to notice and smirks in his direction before turning to Tamamori. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Fujigaya’s voice is icy, ordering, and Tamamori immediately follows direction. Senga watches him, the way his face goes expressionless as he hangs his head, the way his arm muscles flex as he shifts position of his hands, waiting.

He’s so transfixed with Tamamori that he only notices a presence and a scent before Fujigaya is standing a meter before him, and his breath hitches when he realises.

Suddenly Senga feels so hot, cheeks burning as Fujigaya’s only focus is on him, those dark eyes running over his skin igniting tingles without even touching.

“Hi Ken-chan.” Fujigaya says softly and leans down a little before him, so close Senga could kiss him if he leaned forward just a little. The contrast between his sweet voice now and harsh tone just moments before has Senga squirming, anxious not to earn the stern voice.

He almost jumps out of his skin when Fujigaya drops both hands to his hips, too lost in the darkest eyes in the world, a moan slipping past his lips as Fujigaya reaches for his beltbuckle.

“Hush, I’ll get to you.” Is all Fujigaya says, and Senga starts to understand what’s going on as Fujigaya unbuckles his slim belt and starts withdrawing it from its hoops. He feels the denim material of his jeans press against his skin as the belt slides off, and the friction has him moaning quietly despite himself.

Fujigaya ignores him and instead contemplates the belt in his hands while returning to Tamamori. It’s dark leather and Senga recognises it, it’s his own, a slimmer version with silvery belt buckle.

“Not the best thing, but I guess this has to do.” Fujigaya says quietly, mostly to himself, before his voice grows cold. “Off with this.”

He barely brushes Tamamori’s tank top with his fingertips before Tamamori hurries to pull it off, having Senga staring way too much at the toned torso that’s revealed. Tamamori settles back in the position he was ordered into after flinging the garment carelessly to the side.

“Mm.” Fujigaya mumbles appreciatively and runs gentle fingertips over Tamamori’s back, tracing his shoulder blades and the muscles of his lower back.

The soft touch has Tamamori closing his eyes, arching a little, but Senga sees the sadistic glint in Fujigaya’s eyes and can’t help but wonder how Tamamori can stay so calm. Fujigaya surprises them both it seems, when he leans in to place a kiss between Tamamori’s shoulder blades; Tamamori jerks and Senga’s gasp isn’t really quiet. It’s intense and somehow sweet how Fujigaya trails lingering kisses up to Tamamori’s neck, and Senga feels thrown off again, not expecting that at all.

Tamamori just accepts everything he gets, but his lips are parted and his fingers curl against the wall in a way that means he must like it.

Then Fujigaya steps back, taking a steady hold of the belt buckle and giving Tamamori’s bare back a calculating look.

Senga jerks at the first hit of the belt on Tamamori’s skin, the cracking sound much louder than he’d expected, and Tamamori gives a breathy whine. A smirk tugs at Fujigaya’s lips as he eyes the reddening line across Tamamori’s back and he raises the belt again.

Senga finds himself having trouble looking as his belt keeps abusing Tamamori’s skin. It’s so ruthless, the way Tamamori bites his lip hard and clenches his hands until the knuckles are white speak of nothing but agonizing pain. He ends up watching Fujigaya instead, his calm posture and shining eyes. He has a hell of a technique too, the fact that he hits so perfectly in a seemingly effortless way has Senga’s skin crawling in fright.

“Ah.” Fujigaya lets out a soft sound of approval and drops the hand with the belt. He sets a fingertip against Tamamori’s back, and Tamamori hisses when he withdraws it. Fujigaya’s fingertip is shiny with blood, and Senga feels cold at the realisation that he managed to break skin.

Fujigaya carefully licks the blood from his fingertip with a small flick of his tongue that has Senga squirming, and then starts running his fingers over the welts he just created. Tamamori’s early shaking, and Senga sees a drop glitter on his cheek and he feels so bad for him.

“Turn around.” Fujigaya orders, and Tamamori slowly follows direction, opening his glossy eyes and releasing his lower lip, which has broken from Tamamori worrying it between his teeth.

Fujigaya smiles knowingly as he takes in Tamamori’s blood-stained lip and running teardrops. “And yet you wouldn’t scream for me?”

Slowly Tamamori shakes his head, a few dark strands of hair sticking to his cheeks, and he looks like a puppy begging for praise.

Fujigaya only raises an eyebrow, but then sets his hands on Tamamori’s shoulders and shoves him back into the cold stone wall, and Tamamori screams in pain and shock as his wounds connect.

“You know I love it when you scream.” Fujigaya says, sliding a hand into Tamamori’s damp strands of hair.

“Yes.” Tamamori answers faintly, but Senga’s not sure whether it’s a response to the question, or just his consent as Fujigaya pulls his head down for a kiss.

It’s a chaste kiss, barely lips brushing lips, and then Fujigaya shoves Tamamori’s head lower, to his throat. Suddenly Senga can’t make himself feel sorry for Tamamori at all, not when his mouth on Fujigaya’s neck pulls a soft sound over Fujigaya’s plush lips.

That little sound that isn’t even a moan, rather a sigh, goes straight to Senga’s cock which twitches in want.

He watches Tamamori’s lips caress Fujigaya’s flawless skin and over the thin silver necklace, leaving small smears of blood from his broken lip, and Fujigaya tilts his head to the side, eyes falling half closed, and it looks so hot Senga thinks he might come in his pants untouched.

Then he sees Tamamori flick his tongue out to lick softly at Fujigaya’s pulse point, quickly followed by a gentle bite.

Fujigaya’s eyes snaps open and he’s barely pushed Tamamori off of him before he punches him straight in the face. Tamamori’s knocked back by the force, and he raises one hand to his cheek, hair hanging in his eyes keeping Senga from seeing his expression.

Fujigaya looks furious, and if his annoyance was frightening, Senga’s practically trying to crawl off his chair, afraid Fujigaya might actually claw Tamamori’s eyes out or something equally horrible.

“You better behave.” Fujigaya growls and grabs Tamamori’s jaw to roughly force his face up. This time Tamamori’s lip cracked for real and blood is running down from the corner of his mouth, cheek swollen in scary shades of red and blue. “You don’t want me to get rid of you.”

Tamamori’s eyes widen, and Fujigaya doesn’t let go of his face as he forces him down to his knees on the floor. Tamamori lets out a half choked scream as his broken back scratches against the rough stone. When he settles on the floor, spreading his legs, he’s breathing hard with new tears in his eyes, still forced to look up at Fujigaya by the hand on his face.

Senga swallows, the way Fujigaya stands straight and confident before Tamamori’s half naked, mistreated body is so dominant that Senga wants to grovel on the floor before him.

Fujigaya releases Tamamori’s face and raises a foot in between his legs, placing his shoe lightly against Tamamori’s crotch. Suddenly Senga feels ice cold, nauseous at the thought of what Fujigaya could break there.

But Tamamori only groans loudly and bucks his hips against the pressure, head falling back against the wall with a thunk as his eyes close and his lips part.

“Thought so. Are you going to hump my leg like a dog?” Fujigaya’s voice is so deep Senga can feel it into his bones, and Tamamori thrusts his hips up probably only two more times before he comes with a piercing moan, thrashing against the wall.

Fujigaya steps back before Tamamori’s even shuddered himself out, and he whines loudly.

“Shut up.” Fujigaya says icily, throwing Tamamori an annoyed glare before turning away from him. He takes a deep breath, stroking a strand of hair behind his ear as he approaches Senga.

A small smile finds Fujigaya’s lips when he stops right before Senga, the scent of cologne enough to make Senga shiver. “You’re shaking Ken-chan.”

Senga realises that he’s right, he hadn’t even noticed his shaking hands, too busy taking in Fujigaya’s presence.

“Don’t be scared.” Fujigaya says with a smirk, slowly stepping to Senga’s side, before settling down in his lap. Fujigaya’s hair brushes Senga’s cheek when he sits down, and his weight and bodyheat so close makes Senga’s mind spin a bit. Fujigaya shifts a bit to get comfortable, and his thigh brushes Senga’s erection. Senga’s not even sure what the noise he makes is classified as, but it’s probably the most wanton one he’s ever let slip.

Fujigaya smiles and crosses his legs gracefully crosses his legs like Senga’s just a chair. “Guess you weren’t shaking from fear after all.”

Senga just moans softly, and he has to lean his head back against the wall and clench his hands, or he’d be all over the gorgeous man in his lap. And he doesn’t dare touch without permission, not after what happened to Tamamori.

Fujigaya reaches a hand down to his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes along with a lighter, only with a little struggle against his tight pants. Senga’s eyes are glued to his hands as he picks a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips, fingertips gently brushing his own lips and Senga lets out a soft whine, wanting to touch that mouth so badly he’s physically hurting.

Fujigaya ignores his noises and squirming, putting the pack back in his pocket and raises the lighter, expertly lighting the cigarette with casual movements that’s teasing Senga’s entire being.

He puts the lighter back as well and then leans back a little as he sucks in the first breath of smoke with eyes closed. Senga stares at his face, swallowing hard, thinking of other things Fujigaya could wrap his lips around, and it’s all he can do not to just grab him and rub off on his thigh.

Senga hears a soft moan from somewhere else, and he thinks it’s Nikaido, but he can’t really focus, eyes all for Fujigaya while clenching his hands so hard his nails are digging into his palms.

Senga shudders in pleasure when Fujigaya slowly wraps an arm around his neck for balance, the touch not sexual at all but so electric, soft cotton feeling cool against Senga’s feverish skin, and Fujigaya exhales with a soft sigh that makes Senga pierce the skin of one palm to try and sustain self control.

“You can touch me you know.” Fujigaya says, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes as he takes in his eyes as he takes in Senga’s flushed features. “But you can’t leave any marks.”

Senga’s hands are on Fujigaya’s waist before he can even think about moving them, one hand against his stomach and one on the small of his back, sweaty palms against the warmth of Fujigaya’s skin beneath the soft cotton.

He lets out a rather embarrassing noise at the feel, but he couldn’t care less since he’s never wanted to touch someone this badly before in his entire life.

Fujigaya breathes a laugh at Senga’s needy whimper before inhaling another breath of smoke. Senga’s shaky fingertips caress their way down Fujigaya’s thigh, the other hand still resting against his back, not daring to move lower. His fingers slip to the hem of the crimson shirt and under, and Senga leans his head against Fujigaya’s shoulder to breathe him in.

He moans into Fujigaya’s sleeve when his hand brushes hot skin above the waistband of Fujigaya’s pants, splaying his fingers out in his cravings for more skin contact.

He looks up at Fujigaya tilting his head back a little, still smoking while smiling devilishly in Kitayama’s direction.

Senga looks up for a moment to look at the others, and his body can’t really handle the stimulation of seeing Kitayama still dishevelled and abused staring wantonly at Fujigaya in Senga’s lap, eyes dark with fierce jealousy.

Then Senga’s fingertip touches metal, and Fujigaya gasps, his breath of smoke coming out in gray curls. Senga can’t help himself but to touch the navel piercing, what Fujigaya did to Nikaido still in fresh memory as he gently tugs. Fujigaya’s eyes fall closed and he makes a small sound that has Senga’s hips snapping up for pressure even though he can’t reach.

Senga’s wrist is grabbed tightly, Fujigaya’s half smoked cigarette dangerously close to his skin suddenly.

“That’s not for you to play with.” Fujigaya says darkly as he pulls Senga’s hand off him, and Senga badly wants to know who it is for. He doesn’t even bother holding back his whine of disappointment.

“Shh.” Fujigaya just says, his focus having moved to somewhere around Senga’s collarbone, and he drops the wrist.

He looks at Senga’s skin for a moment, thoughtfully, before his eyes flick up to meet Senga’s, glittering with amusement. Fujigaya raises his cigarette to his lips again, drawing in smoke, the ashes at the tip glowing orange, and suddenly Senga knows what he’s going to do. He gasps and pushes back in the chair, but Fujigaya’s hand on his neck stops him from withdrawing too far.

Still he can’t make himself protest vocally, transfixed by Fujigaya’s eyes as the cigarette is raised to his collarbone. He even finds himself anticipating the pain, somewhere deep inside he’s curious what it’d feel like. The second the burning hot ashes touch his skin he can’t help but glance down, seeing a second of Fujigaya’s fingers holding the cigarette right against his skin, before his eyes squeeze shut from the pain and he whimpers.

It’s okay at first, a burn that he reflexively pulls back from, one that leave a red mark and ache, only that he can’t move away from it. Fujigaya follows him, keeping the cigarette still against him, and Senga swears he can feel the layers of his skin burn away one by one as he thrashes and whines, hands clawing in Fujigaya’s clothes. He feels the tears form in his eyes, and it’s almost unbearable that he can’t make the pain go away. But just when he thinks he can’t take another second, Fujigaya shifts, pressing his thigh purposely to Senga’s faltering erection, and the second after the cigarette is withdrawn. Senga’s moan is pure relief, both from the eased pain and finally, finally being touched, and his head falls back.

“Hot.” Fujigaya mumbles, sounding pleased, and he retracts his arm from around Senga’s neck to brush some damp hair from his forehead.

He drops the cigarette on the floor, already having stubbed it on Senga’s skin, and shifts again to lean in and brush fingers over the burn mark he made.

Senga jerks, trying to arch into Fujigaya’s thigh and away from his fingers at the same time, hands clutching even tighter in Fujigaya’s deep red shirt.

“Good boy.” Fujigaya says softly, the fingers on Senga’s chest trailing up to his jaw and tilts his head back in Fujigaya’s direction. Fujigaya’s eyes are dark with arousal and Senga shudders, willing to withstand any pain Fujigaya could ever cause him just to have Fujigaya look at him like that again. “Tell me what you want.”

It’s an order, and Senga can’t even bother himself with thinking of the treatment Kitayama received for trying to answer that question.

“You.” Is all he gets out, his voice cracking a little from lack of use, his breathing hard and shallow.

“What do you want from me?” Fujigaya asks, and this time Senga is certain he could hear Nikaido’s groan of jealousy.

Senga’s blood rushes at the thought of what he actually wants, how he wants to run his hands all over Fujigaya’s body to keep him makes those delicious sounds, make him lose himself in pleasure.

Senga swallows and looks up at Fujigaya, blush rising on his cheeks. “I want to make you feel good.”

Suddenly he thinks he’s said the completely wrong thing in Fujigaya’s test, as Fujigaya stills, and then pulls Senga’s hand out of his shirt. He shifts again, pushing himself up from Senga’s lap to stand before him.

Senga’s prepared for the strike, muscles tensing up to save himself from too much damage. But then Fujigaya smirks, obviously noticing his anxiety. He raises his hands to his belt and starts unbuckling it, shoving red fabric away in order to reach, and Senga stares.

It isn’t until Fujigaya starts on the button of his pants with one hand and reaches for Senga’s hair with the other that Senga understands what’s expected of him. Suddenly he feels hot and cold at the same time, in awe at the fact that’s he’s allowed to give Fujigaya a blowjob, but terrified that he’s not going to do it good enough.

He groans as Fujigaya twists fingers into his hair, tugging his head forward until Senga’s wrists are stopped by their chains.

The position is uncomfortable, but he hardly thinks about it when Fujigaya pulls out his hard cock from his underwear and Senga can smell the salt of precome. He’s almost ashamed of how bad he wants it, how every fibre of his body wants to taste it, and his cheeks heat up in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment.

Fujigaya yanks his hair pointedly, and Senga lets out a small moan. He’s never really liked having his hair pulled, but it’s never felt anything close to how it is when it’s Fujigaya’s hand, the tug sending shivers down his spine.

Senga leans forward, eyes flicking up to look at Fujigaya’s face as he carefully licks at the head. He’s looking down at Senga with hooded eyes, lips slightly parted to release shallow breaths, and Senga can’t take the tip of his cock into his mouth fast enough. He hopes his enthusiasm makes up for his lack in skill; he’s done this before, but he’s never wanted to do it this bad, never been this focused on making it feel good.

He licks at the head gently, slowly letting his lips slide lower, getting used to the feeling and weight, trying to listen for changes in Fujigaya’s breath when he does something right.

He gets about halfway down the shaft before his eyes tear up and he can’t take more, so he hollows his cheeks instead, and Fujigaya’s hand tightens in Senga’s hair. It kind of hurts now, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing mark on his collarbone, and none of those matter anyway compared to the way Fujigaya chokes on his breath.

Senga starts bobbing his head slowly, tracing the vein on the underside with his tongue as he pulls back. It doesn’t take long before Fujigaya’s hips start to meet his movement, and Senga stops worrying about choking, too dazed with the feel of Fujigaya’s cock sliding over his swollen lips. Small moans and whimpers accompany almost every one of Senga’s breaths, vibrating along Fujigaya’s length, drawing small gasps out of him.

Senga’s so hard it hurts, his own erection twitching every time Fujigaya’s cock pulls at his oversensitive lips and he’s never been this affected by sucking dick, ever.

Fujigaya’s breathing is quick and hard when he suddenly pulls Senga off of him and instead wraps a hand around himself, stroking a few times hard and fast while holding Senga still.

Senga’s eyes close automatically when the first spurts of hot liquid hits his face, shuddering at the feel and the deep sigh Fujigaya lets out.

When he opens his eyes again he can see a small lump hanging off his eyelashes and feel the remaining come run down his cheek, and he’s never felt dirtier in his life and he loves it. Fujigaya’s smiling down at him while he buttons his pants and buckles his belt.

“You look gorgeous Kento.” Fujigaya says slowly, his breath still uneven, and Senga groans, trying to reach for his erection but he can’t with his hands restrained. He whines, feeling like he’ll die for real if he can’t come right now, his whole body practically shaking with need.

“Shh, take it easy.” Fujigaya’s amusement is torture, but he lowers a hand to Senga’s crotch, pressing hard, and Senga chokes on his groan.

His hips grind up by reflex and he probably couldn’t stop even if he tried to. Fujigaya unbuttons Senga’s pants with a small laugh at Senga’s desperation, slipping fingers inside. Senga stops breathing the second Fujigaya’s fingers brush his cock and it’s so good and so hot and fucking finally. All it takes is Fujigaya hand squeezing around him and he loses any coherency, mind falling into white hot orgasm while his body thrashes.

~*~

Senga sits up in bed with a gasp, drenched in sweat, with a cooling, sticky mess in his pyjamas pants. It takes him a second to realise where he is, taking in his pile of clothes on the floor, his posters on the wall, and slowly accepts it’s his own room.

He sighs as his racing heart starts calming, dropping his head into his hands as he tries to make his breathing calm too. That had been the most graphic wet dream he’d ever had, and shouldn’t he be over having them anyway since he passed 20 a few years ago.

Slowly he reaches over to his bedside table, tapping his phone to see the time. 04:21 in the morning.

He sighs deeply again, shoving the covers away to sit up, wincing at the cold stain in his pants. How the hell could he look the other members in the eyes at work in a few hours, or ever again? He thinks of hugging Nikaido hello and blushes at the mere thought of Nikaido’s face, unable to get rid of the image of him blindfolded and flushed. He doesn’t even want to think about Fujigaya, shame heating his cheeks as soon as he so much thinks his name.

“What the fuck Kento.” He mumbles to himself, his own voice calming him a little, breaking the dream spell. He’d never considered himself kinky in any way before, but now here he sits with a sadistic porn dream about his groupmates in way too fresh memory.

He rises slowly, his legs a little shaky as he heads for the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him and turns on the lights, squinting at the sudden brightness. He strips off his sticky clothes and then heads for the sink and splashes cold water on his face, consider to shower despite it being the middle of the night.

The lights and the cold water makes the dream seem more distant, and he can almost breathe without blushing when he looks up at himself in the mirror. And freezes.

Suddenly his entire inside feels cold and he stares at himself in horror, slowly raising his fingers to his collarbone.

He winces as his fingertips touch the red wound with dark edges. The burn mark made with a cigarette.

~*~*~