Sticky and Sweet [Oneshot]

[h_itoshi]

Title: Sticky and Sweet
Fandom: Kis-My-Ft2, AKB48
Pairing(s): Nikaido/Kawaei
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 5320
Warnings: Masturbation, Incest, Het, and a touch of angst.
Notes: I think this will be the last one, because otherwise I'll have to deal with feelings haha. So... enjoy some girlporn? After this.
(I would also like to add that justironic's title suggestion for this was "Make U Wet Chapter 2". Sorry love, it was a great idea.)

Rina leans down to take off her 6 inch heels the second the door falls closed behind her, breathing a sigh as she sets her feet down on the cream carpet of the dining room. She winces a little at the sticky substance between her thighs, and simply leaves the sparkling shoes on the floor in favour of heading to the bathroom.

She really tries to like men, but they keep making it so difficult. They're attractive, muscular and tall and smell so good, but they hardly ever know what they're doing. They're too rough with their hands, too eager with their dicks and too stupid to tell whether she likes it or not.

She closes the bathroom door behind her without bothering to lock it, and steps up to the mirror to look at herself. She looks fucked, her hair not the perfect curls she normally has, her cheeks a little flushed and her dress the tiniest bit off angle. She's not nearly satisfied though, had to fake an orgasm to get away from the clumsy guy's sweaty gross hands, and she feels dirty in a way she hates.

She reaches to her side to slide the invisible zipper of her dress down, and takes a relieved breath when the tight designer creation loosens a little. She peels it down and steps out of it, letting the expensive garment lie in a purple pile on the tiles as she pulls off her stockings carefully enough not to tear them.

She makes quick work of removing her make-up, before stripping off her underwear as well and steps into the shower, turns on the water as hot as she can handle.

The spray is soothing, heating her skin even though she wasn't cold, wetting her hair and washing away the uncomfortable leftovers between her thighs.

It doesn't take very long until she feels clean again, until she can't feel filthy hands on her anymore, and she shampoos her hair without any hurry. More often than not, she has to take these midnight showers to get rid of sticky touches and hot moist breaths on her skin. She tries to stick to girls, because they're so much better, gentler and knows exactly how much she can take, observant of her reactions. But even then, she misses the stretch of something hot and hard filling her up, of strong arms holding her and that masculine scent in her nose. Preferably his scent, his strong arms and his hard cock inside her.

She's not ashamed of the fact that her brother is the best lover she's ever had, but sometimes, it worries her. Mostly, because he might find someone he really likes, and then she won't have him anymore. Because she could never deny him to be with someone he loves. After everything they've been through, there's nothing he deserves more.

She runs both hands through her hair, rinses it, feels it spill down her back in long heavy strands when she releases it to reach out for the conditioner.

Unwillingly, her thoughts trail to Senga, the host club boy with the dancing, and the effects he's had on her brother. She can't get the sounds Senga managed to pull from her brother out of her head, can't help but think that she's never made him sound like that. Still, it was madly hot.

She doesn't normally peek at him when he brings someone home, even though she's certain he wouldn't mind if she did, but she knows there's something about Senga. Something about him that attracts her brother so strongly he can't stop thinking about him, even if he pretends he hardly remembers his name.

And so she looked, carefully opened the door just to glance at them, but once she saw them, she couldn't look away. They looked so good together, her brother with only his pants open and a small flush on his face, and Senga naked and desperate in his lap.

She feels her skin start to prickle traitorously with arousal at the memory, as it has every other time she's thought about it, but she doesn't stop it this time, lets her hands run over her own skin slowly under the hot water. She remembers how her mouth fell open as Senga said her brother's name, his first name, and she shivers as she thinks about her brother's anger, about the ringing slap. He'd never be angry with her, not like that, but it's so hot to know how uncontrolled he can be.

She lets her hands run down her thighs, the light pressure soothing the itching of her skin, and she exhales softly as her fingertips slip to the insides of her thighs. She doesn't go further though, slides her hands back, up over her belly, where she stops and moves them to her hair instead, rinsing out the conditioner and then turns the water off.

She reaches for a towel and shivers as the material runs over her heated skin and collects the moisture, her body too dissatisfied to ignore her thoughts. She's really tired, and she can't wait to crawl into bed and fall asleep, but once she's started thinking about him, it's difficult to stop.

She towels her hair enough so it's not dripping, wondering where he is tonight and when he's coming back. Not that it's any of her business, often it doesn't even feel like they live together, but she'd like to see him. Touch him.

She steps out of the shower, wrapping the towel around herself and opens a drawer to get the blowdryer. She considers not even drying her hair when she has spend a couple of minutes untangling the cord from the one belonging to her curling iron, but then remembers she has work tomorrow and has to look good. She plugs the device in and starts it, pulling all her hair to the front for easier access.

The hot air touching her skin as it passes her hair makes her close her eyes, and it feels like a soft caress to her throat and shoulder.

“You should wear your hair up sometimes, I like your neck.”

He told her that once, and since then she actually puts her hair up sometimes, at least at home. Personally, she likes her curls better than her neck, but it's almost ridiculous what she'd do to be pretty for him.

Takashi never tries to look hot, he just does. There's something about how his hair falls in his eyes, something superior and coy about his posture and something dark and smoldering in his eyes whenever he wants something. Or someone.

His eyes are the best, she thinks, and lets the hot air brush her bare back as she keeps untangling the damp strands of hair with her fingers. He has a way of looking at you, like he's going to devour you, but still there's something else, that tiny smirk he wears like whatever you're doing amuses him.

She shifts the blowdryer a little, and gasps when the heat touches her chest, sneaking under the towel in between her breasts, and when she looks at herself in the mirror she's got a tiny blush of embarrassment. But it's only her right now, no one will judge her for anything, she thinks as she looks into her own eyes while slowly tugging up the tucked in corner of the towel and lets it fall to the floor.

She looks at her own naked torso, looks at how her nipples harden in the cooler air, and how her still half-wet hair falls over her shoulder, brushing her breast, but then closes her eyes and focuses on the task of drying her hair. She only occasionally shivers when the hot air touches something sensitive, and she has to keep her fingers busy not to touch herself, loving and hating the self-imposed teasing.

When her hair is dry enough and she turns off the device, the room feels strangely silent and her skin is tingling with anticipation. She glances at the closed door, trying not to be disappointed he didn't come home and found her.

She reaches out for the silky dressing gown she usually wears at night and slips it on, shuddering at the cool, slippery fabric against her skin, and ties it loosely before reaching for a hair tie.

She glances at herself again, and there's no way she's going to fall asleep like this, her cheeks still blushing and eyes dark, and she can see her nipples hard through the fabric.

She braids her hair loosely over her shoulder and then quickly brushes her teeth and takes her phone from her purse before leaving the bathroom, goosebumps forming on her skin from the temperature difference.

Slowly, she pads over the carpets to her room, the apartment so silent she automatically keeps quiet, at least until she's closed the door to her room.

She falls onto her soft bed with a sigh of relief, finally feeling comfortable enough to relax entirely. Sometimes, there are people around the apartment, but in her room, it's only her and those she invites. She's only had girls here, besides him, but she doesn't want to bring any men into her own space. It feels too intimate, and she doesn't want them close, not like that.

She looks at the ceiling for a moment, before letting her eyes fall closed and her hands drop to the loose knot of the dressing gown. She is trying to like men, she keeps telling herself, but she knows she's not giving them a fair chance. She can't compare them to him, her first everything, he who knows everything she likes and dislikes, loves and hates, but she can't help it. She wants someone like him or she's not having anyone.

She loosens the knot entirely, laying the sash to the sides and curls her fingers under both sides of the dressing gown, slowly sliding it apart and can't help but arch at the silky caress of the fabric.

She doesn't look down at herself, keeps her eyes closed and lets her head fall to the side as she brushes the soft braid aside to cup her own breasts.

Maybe, if she'd sleep with a man more than once, they'd learn more about her, and maybe it'd be better. But she doubts it, since she never feels as full as she does when it's his cock inside her, no matter the size of anyone's dicks, and she's never come as hard and long as she has for him, not even that time when there were two girls.

Her legs fall open on their own, and she gasps as she squeezes her breasts gently before moving on to her nipples, playing with them until her gasps are small moans and she feels heavy and throbbing between her legs, images of him flashing before her closed eyes more frequently the more worked up she gets. He loves teasing her, she knows, and even though she pretends to be annoyed, she loves it too. Loves being tended to until she's so frustrated she's tearing at his clothes, until she wants him so bad she shoves him down and climbs on top. She moans and her hips roll once on their own, slowly as her muscles tense and relax, and it feels so good and she wants a touch down there so badly. But she can wait some more, wants to drag it out, the time that she can touch herself just the way she likes.

She raises a finger to her lips, slips it past them just enough to wet the fingertip, and then returns to her nipple with it, gasping and arching at the wet touch that makes her whole body throb with want.

She imagines it being his tongue, and she can't keep herself any longer, a hand leaving her breast to slide down her belly, a slow, exploring touch that her hips roll up to meet. She ignores it for another moment, running her hand down her thigh and then gently scratches nails up the inside, eliciting a shudder that makes her shift against the silky fabric that only heightens her sensitivity.

She's so wet when she slides her fingers between her legs finally, runs fingertips over her lips before parting them and slipping a finger inside without hesitation. She sighs, because it's good but hardly good enough for anything besides feeling how wet she really is, and she almost considers removing the dressing gown from underneath her as she pulls her finger out and a lot of sticky substance comes with it. Then she pinches her nipple with one hand and finds her clit with the other and she couldn't give a fuck about the clothing if it so cost a million yen.

She rubs gently at her most sensitive spot until she finds the perfect angle and electricity shoots through her body as she moans out loud. It sounds dirty moaning into the silence, she can hear her heavy breaths and the slutty little whines she lets out, but when there's no one to hear, she secretly likes it.

She rubs a little longer, then moves her finger, slipping it back inside of her and adds another, more of a stretch this time, before returning to her clitoris. She goes on like that until she can't keep still, hips rolling into her hand and nipples almost too sensitive from her rougher touches, but she doesn't want the teasing to end just yet.

Then she hears something that isn't a sound she makes. The door handle being pushed down followed by her door creaking open, and she blushes deep red, quickly withdrawing her hands and closing her legs. Not that it isn't obvious what she's been doing, with how she's naked in bed with a flush down her chest and breath heaving.

Her eyes fly open just in time to see her brother's knowing smirk as he looks her over slowly, and even though she doesn't really mind, secretly wanted him to find her, she's embarrassed now that he has.

“Thought I heard your voice...” Takashi's voice is so deep it's almost a purr, and she can't help the shiver and gasp her body reacts with. He closes the door slowly behind him and walks towards the bed, stopping as he reaches the edge and looks down at her with heat in his dark eyes.

“That looks good little sister, don't stop for my sake.” He says, voice just as low, and bends down enough to touch her knee, urging her legs apart again.

She moans shamelessly, too hot to care now that he knows what she's doing, and he only calls her sister in sexual situations when he wants her to feel dirty.

She does, she really does, as she lowers her hand again, fingers a little shaky before finding her hot and slick skin, slipping inside her, and the other finds her nipple again, this time more gentle.

She closes her eyes again, unable to look at him even though his presence heightens her pleasure so much her breath is staggered and hands a little shaky.

“You're so wet.” He says, and she has to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from looking, but she has a feeling he's watching her fingers slide in and out of herself, covered in her own juices. “What are you thinking about?”

She arches at the question, gasping, because she's thinking about him and his voice only helps her fantasies along. “You.”

Her voice is weak and breathy, and it's more a gasp than a word, but she knows he likes that.

“Good girl.” He mumbles and she feels the bed shift, so she opens her eyes slowly, looks into his burning eyes where he sits down on the side of the bed, on the outer edge of her dressing gown. He's slipping his dark blazer off, leaving him in a shirt, tie and dark jeans, and she takes her hand off her breast to reach out for him.

He smirks, that smirk that goes straight into her nervous system and lights her on fire, and takes her hand, gently kisses her wrist and then urges it back to her breast. “Go on.”

She whines, because he's right there and she wants his touch more than anything, but he only smirks at her frustration as she continues to touch herself.

"Takashi..." She moans impatiently, glancing up at him with her neediest eyes. "Please..."

He still smiles, but tilts his head and leans a little closer. "Please, what?"

"Please..." She breaks off on a moan before she manages to string a sentence together, because she can smell his cologne and her insides clench . "Make me feel good."

His eyes darken a little, and he shifts, crawling onto the bed to settle on his knees between her legs, which spread wantonly, and she arches at the brush of the rough material of his jeans against the insides of her thighs. When he speaks, his voice is low, confident. "I will."

She moans and thrusts her fingers deeper inside herself, but he grabs her wrist and tugs her fingers out with a slick sound, bringing her hand to his mouth. She watches through half closed eyes how he lets her sticky fingers slide into his hot mouth, just enough to get a taste of her, before pulling on her wrist again, and her fingers slip out, but the sight and feel has her crying out and clenching so tight around nothing that it's almost uncomfortable. "Oh god..."

He lets go of her hand and she immediately twists it in his shirt, tugging at it to bring him closer, but he won't budge.

"Not yet. Go on, touch yourself some more. I like it." He smiles and she whines but reluctantly releases his shirt to bring her hand back between her legs.

"But I want you." She says, trying to keep her voice firm but it doesn't work entirely, a gasp sneaking in at the end of her sentence when she brushes her clit again.

He glances down at her hand, but then smiles again, leaning over her to brace himself with his hands on either side of her chest. "Get off like this first."

He's not ordering her exactly, but the tone of his voice leaves no room for arguments and she shudders, her body agreeing even though her mind doesn't since she's been turned on for so long already.

Her eyes fall closed again as she gets serious with her hands, arching against the heat radiating through her body as she rubs her clit and plays with her nipple at the same time.

Her eyes snap open with a loud moan when there's a hot wet touch to her nipple, brushing her fingers as well. She stares as he flicks his tongue out again, lapping at her nipple once more before glancing up at her under his bangs with a knowing look, and then goes back to his ministrations.

She groans and rolls her hips against her own hand, can't keep them still, and it only feels dirtier when his tongue keeps accidentally brushing her fingertips as well. She feels the heat spread inside her, feels how close she is, and she just wants him even closer, wants his hard chest pressed against hers and his legs tangled with hers. She arches off the bed when he gently bites at the nipple, whimpering and nearly coming on the spot, and when her hips roll again, he shifts his weight a little, and suddenly she has his thigh right between her legs, close enough to press against.

She does, scooting down a few inches so she can rub against his thigh, knowing she spreads the sticky substance on his jeans but it only makes her feel dirtier and hotter. He looks up from her breast when he feels what she's doing, a smile finding his lips as he leans up to her ear instead, gently biting the earring she wears, tugging a little at it while she spreads the remains of his saliva over her skin with her fingertips.

"Filthy girl." He whispers in her ear, but there's nothing but appreciation in his deep voice, and when he presses back a little against her hips, her orgasm takes her by surprise, throwing her into convulsions as moans and whimpers escape her lips without waiting for the earlier sound to finish.

He waits her out, just carefully kissing her jaw as she comes down, panting and moving her hands to his shirt before she's even aware of it.

"You're so hot." He mumbles into her skin, and she shivers, too sated to be embarrassed by the praise, but she feels herself clenching rhythmically in aftershocks, and all she knows is that she wants him inside.

"Fuck me." She manages, and he grins, at her impatience and language and everything, but she doesn't care, blinking her eyes open enough to look at him. "You said you would."

"Technically, I didn't." He says, amused, but he's reaching down for his belt as he speaks so she doesn't bother arguing, instead moves her hands to his tie to undo it. He never lets anyone undress him, always keeps his clothes on as much as possible when he's with others, and so she always feels the need to have his skin against hers, something that only she can have.

She manages to undo the knot of the tie with her slightly shaky fingers, and grabs it to pull it off, his eyes locking with hers as it slides from around his neck, and for a second she considers all the things she could do with a tie if he'd let her. But she really just wants him, bucks her hips against his thigh a little to make him hurry up, and drops the tie to the side and starts on the buttons of his shirt.

He gets his belt and pants open, and has to shift to shove them down, but she just follows, sitting up to keep undoing his shirt, and accidentally glances down at his thigh, where there's a big, wet spot and she almost blushes a little.

She gets the last button open, but then she's shoved back down on the bed, and he leans over her, kicking off the last of his clothes and then she can feel the tip of his erection against her opening. She moans in anticipation, trying to push back against him and get him inside, but it doesn't work. He's still wearing the shirt, and she clutches at the sides of it to try and tug him where she wants him, and for once he follows, pushing inside of her in one swift motion and lets her pull his head down at the same time.

Her moan stirs his hair and she can feel him gasp against her neck, and it's so perfect, nothing like the man she had earlier tonight as Takashi waits just long enough for her to get used to him and the first touch of impatient before giving a slow thrust that's deep enough to make her arch.

She unclenches her hands from his shirt to twist them in his dark hair instead, pulling enough to get his face up to hers and kisses him. They don't kiss, normally, which means she hardly kisses anyone ever, but sometimes, she needs it, just a confirmation that he loves her.

For a second, he doesn't move, stills his hips and lets her move her lips against his soft ones, but then darts his tongue out against her lower lip, and they're in each other's mouths. Rina can't help but moan desperately as his tongue tangles with hers and he continues thrusting into her, the taste and feel of him always more than she can really handle.

He breaks the kiss, and leans down for her neck instead, trailing open mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collarbone and back up, making her shift and gasp. She feels from his breathing that he's really worked up, can tell from how hard he's fucking her, and she loves being able to turn him on.

She lets her hands run through his hair, trail down his neck and under the collar of his open shirt, pushing it off his shoulders even though he can't take it off without moving his hands from the bed, which he doesn't seem very interested in. Her hands run over his shoulders, feeling his muscles work, before sliding down his front instead, scratching lightly with long nails against his skin and it earns her a thrust that pulls a wail from her. There's heat building up inside her again, from his thrusting, kissing, his hot scent and his skin under her fingers, and she lets him know with her moans how good she feels.

Her hands wander without her active consent, running down his sides, feeling his ribs and runs over the ugly scar he always hides, over his abs and up to his nipples, rubbing and making him groan.

His sounds go straight inside her, heating her up to almost unbearable temperatures, and she wants more of them. She gets a hand back into his hair, pulls hard enough for him to gasp, and guides him close enough that she can bite at his earlobe and deliberately clenches her muscles around him at the same time, relishing the way his moan reaches a higher pitch. She does it again, and again, enough for him to throw a glare at her through eyes that are so dark she shivers, and there's heat all over her, her legs spreading wider and wider without her brain's consent, and his thrusts light her nerves on fire all the way into her fingertips.

“Takashi...” She gasps, knowing she'll come any second, and he understands, she can see the flash of a satisfied smile before he leans down to bite gently just below her jaw, and that's all it takes. It's a different kind of orgasm, more intense and more raw, and she knows she nearly pulls his hair out as she whines in pleasure, but she can't actively move her fingers, scratching down his arm with her other hand. She hears his unrestrained moan when he comes, feels him tense and shake and it's amazing, something she never appreciates with someone else.

When she can untangle her fingers from his hair, her joints a little stiff, she wraps her arms around his waist to hold him close, the wrong kind of intimacy for just a few moments.

He lets her hold him until his breathing has calmed a little, and then raises up, pulling out of her and she can't even squirm at the mess because this mess is one she doesn't feel the need to shower away.

He falls onto his back next to her, still breathing shallowly, and she can't help but crawl up close, laying her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, breathing in his scent.

“Sleep with me Takashi.” She asks, and it's nothing odd about that. But his answer is a little too slow.

“Yeah.” He agrees softly after a moment too long, and his hand strokes down her naked back once before finding her braid and twirls it between his fingers, but he's looking into the ceiling like he can't see it.

“... What's wrong?” She asks, knowing him better than anyone in the world, and she can tell there's something that bothers him.

He doesn't answer for a few moments, and she's almost starting to feel worried that there's something serious, but then he gently pushes her aside to sit up and reach for his jeans, pulling out a scrap piece of paper and hands it to her before falling back onto the sheets.

She crawls back into her position before unfolding the paper single-handed on his bare chest and reads it.

She doesn't recognize the handwriting or the phone number written hastily on it, but she knows who wrote it the second she sees it. Invite me again. Is all it says, followed by a phone number.

“Oh.” She says, not sure what else to say, but she feels a little uneasy; not about the note, but about the fact that Takashi had it in his pocket. It must be weeks old. “Do you...?”

She trails off, because she's not sure what to ask.

“Why did you invite him?” He asks, his low voice almost surprising her, ignoring her unfinished question.

“I... saw him and I thought he was something special.” She admits slowly, remembering when she went out to a slightly shady host club with her girl friends just for fun, and he was there, the young man with soft dark curls and a teasing smile, and she couldn't quite take her eyes off of him. Sayaka couldn't either, especially not after a couple drinks, and they all laughed at her while he was the flirty professional, joking with them and giving Sayaka an extra smile once in a while to keep her interest.

But that hadn't been what made her give him some extra thought, but for the way he treated some male customers, how his movements were more sensual and calculated, how his smile changed the slightest and she knew instantly he wasn't straight.

“Special?” Takashi asks, breaking her train of thoughts, and his voice is toneless but leaning on skeptic, and she's sure he wants to know exactly what made him special.

“Yeah he... I don't know.” She frowns, glancing at the note of paper still on his chest. “I couldn't really stop looking at him. I don't know why.”

“What made you think I'd like him?” Takashi asks, voice still that same tonelessness that could mean interest or irritation.

“You like pretty boys.” She says, easily since it's true, and this man was almost to pretty to be real, more like an actor or an idol or something. “And to be fair, he seemed pretty easy.”

Takashi actually smirks at that, and she aches to ask him about what happened that first time that made him so keen on seeing Senga again.

“Do you... Do you like him?” She asks after a silence that felt too long, and even though the words could mean a lot of things, the little tremble in her voice gives away what she's asking.

He turns his head to look at her, his eyes sincere but unreadable, but he doesn't answer.

Her stomach twists because he doesn't say no. He doesn't say yes but he doesn't say no.

He turns back to look at the ceiling with a sigh, and she knows he saw the panic in her eyes. “I can't get him out of my head, that's all.”

“Right.” She whispers, trying to keep her heart calm and voice steady. It doesn't have to mean anything, but somehow, she feels like it does. “You don't know him at all though.”

“I know.” Is all he answers, fingers returning to her back and runs down her spine to calm her, and it works. “That's why it's bothering me.”

“Bring him back then.” She says, her voice under control again, but her brain to mouth filter is not. “As long as you don't...”

She stops herself and sighs against his chest, pressing a little closer.

He moves the note and turns enough to wrap both arms around her, gently kissing her hair. “Let's sleep Rina.”

She nods against his shoulder, relaxing a little in his arms and she's happy she didn't have to speak the words.

As long as you don't fall in love.

~*~

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