Title: All Work and No Play
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: m/m sex! bondage and some D/S stuff, as well as language and the usual.
Author's Note: I have no excuse for this. XD;
Summary: And that's when Jun realizes: he's tied to the chair.
When Jun first wakes up, he's disoriented. He's aware of the fact that he's not in his bed, but he can't remember where he went to sleep and opening his eyes is difficult. He must have been napping-- he's sitting in a chair, he's beginning to realize, but reality is coming back to him in slow, discrete segments as his body complains of how tired he is. He can feel the hard wood of the chair pressing into his back from the awkward slouched position that he's in, the top of the back of the chair digging into the back of his head. He can feel the plastic of his glasses on the rim of his nose, a little lower than it ought to be, but when he tries to fix them, he finds he can't move his arms. His brow furrows at the imposition and he tries again, but there's a dull pain in his wrists, both of them, actually, that is distinctly out of place enough to draw Jun completely into wakefulness.
It's just as his eyes are snapping open that he feels a wide, broad palm pressed against his shoulder, shaking him lightly. He recognizes the hand-- it's Masaki's, of course, and when he opens his eyes, sure enough, there's Masaki standing right before him, a subtle look of curiosity on his face as he leans in to see if Jun is waking up. They're in Jun's kitchen; Jun can tell even though the lights are off, and besides, the hall light has been left on, casting strong shadows on half of Masaki's face and defining his facial features even more than usual. Masaki always has strong features, though-- it's something about him that Jun finds incredibly beautiful, the contour of his cheekbones, the roundness of his bottom lip, the dark depth of his eyes. But right now, there's something hidden there, a gleam against the blackness, and Jun can't help but swallow and look down to realize that Masaki is wearing one of Jun's dress shirts and nothing else. The smooth, pale stretch of his thigh is illuminated by the stark lighting, shadows cast as the skin disappears behind the lavender silk of the shirt, but there's nothing but promise there, teasing promise that makes Jun's mouth dry and his palms sweaty.
Their eyes meet for an instant, and then suddenly Masaki backs away, his hand slipping from Jun's shoulder. A twitch at the corner of his lips suggests a smile, but it's gone so fast that Jun wonders if he imagined it, if it was ever there at all. Instead, Masaki draws his face up tight and simply says, "Jun-kun."
Which is completely and utterly bizarre, because Masaki never calls him "Jun-kun," definitely not in private. It's "Matsujun" when he's asking Jun if he wants to see a movie or whining for him to do the dishes, and "Jun" when he's beckoning him to bed or whispering good night against his ear, but never "Jun-kun," not anymore, not for a long time now. And so Jun furrows his brow as his glasses slide a little further down his nose and tries to reach out-- his automatic reaction is always to reach out to Masaki-- but something is holding him back, and that's when Jun realizes: he's tied to the chair.
"What the-- Masaki!" he grouses, sounding less dignified that he'd like, and his voice is still rough from sleep. He remembers now; he'd fallen asleep at his kitchen table while looking over a script while Masaki was doing the dishes at Jun's sink (he'd lost the game of janken, and besides, Jun had cooked him dinner in the first place). He hadn't been intending to sleep, of course, but regardless, he also hadn't planned on waking up and finding his wrists bound together behind the back of one of his kitchen chairs. He's a little too tall, he's realizing, for the arrangement to work out, which is why he's stuck in this awkward slouching position with multiple ties knotted together and strapped around his chest, and from the feel of it, there's another tie around his wrists, too. They better not be his ties, Jun thinks wryly, squirming against his bindings to find that they're really quite aptly holding him place before frowning up at Masaki, waiting for an explanation.
"You fell asleep working," Masaki says, taking a step closer and wagging a finger at Jun. Masaki's scolding, childishly well-meaning and earnest as it always is, can sometimes be almost comical, but right now, the way his eyes glint in the dim lighting makes Jun's stomach flip over inside of him. The movement causes the hem of the shirt to shift slightly, still revealing nothing, but Jun's eyes are drawn down anyway, and he can't help but swallow as his eyes trace the shadows that fall there, accentuating the full curve of Masaki's thighs. Still, he pulls his mind back to the predicament at hand, and his eyes meet Masaki's again as he adds, "You know what they say about all work and no play..."
Jun rolls his eyes. "Work is work," he replies, exasperation in his tone. If Masaki is annoyed that Jun fell asleep on him, this is a bit extreme, Jun thinks. There have been plenty of times like this before, plenty of times where Masaki has drifted off on his shoulder while they go over concert notes, where they've both fallen asleep on the couch watching a movie. It's not as if Masaki staying in his apartment is anything new or exciting anymore, and Jun hardly thinks there's any real expectations between them. It's not as if he hasn't woken Jun before and brought him to bed, and it's not as if it won't happen again. So Jun doesn't get what this whole act is about, but he's not exactly thrilled to be tied up in his own kitchen, whatever it is that Masaki has in mind. "You could have just woken me up, you know. It's not like I forgot about you or something."
"Don't make this about me," Masaki replies a little too quickly, his lips drawing a little tighter in the corners. The moment of tenseness passes, however, and he cocks his head, leaning in a little over Jun. "When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep, Jun-kun?" he asks much more smoothly, an eyebrow cocking. "When was the last time you took a break?"
What is this about, Jun wonders, pursing his lips as his glasses slip further down the bridge of his nose. "Work is work," he repeats, twitching his head and scrunching his nose slightly in an attempt to return his glasses to their right position; at this point, his has to tip his head back to see all of Masaki, and he absolutely hates it when his glasses are askew, when his vision is obscured. However, Masaki only shakes his head, leaning in to pluck the lenses from Jun's face.
"Is that better?" he asks, only he must know that it's not better at all, and Jun pouts to cover the way his adrenaline starts to race just a little with the way the world slips into blurriness. "All this stress isn't good for you, Jun-kun. Honestly."
"Well then, when was the last time you got eight hours of sleep?" Jun counters, his heart speeding up in his chest at how suddenly, everything is completely out of his control. He doesn't like this sort of thing, he doesn't like being forced into submission, but his breath is coming short now and even though his vision is blurry, there's something, something about the way that Masaki is looking at him that makes him swallow hard again.
In response to his question, Masaki frowns and then, to Jun's utter shock, leans in and kisses him hard on the lips. It's a short-lived kiss, but the initial pleasantness of it is enough to get Jun's defenses down before Masaki bites him. It's not hard, really, but it's enough to draw blood-- Jun can taste it, tangy and metallic in his mouth-- and Jun's tolerance for pain isn't particularly high. "I told you not to make this about me," he repeats, raising his brows, and Jun remains silent, breathless, beaten into submission. He still doesn't entirely understand what's going on, but Masaki has won; the warmth of his legs against Jun's, the sensation of his lips against Jun's, the taste of his tongue against Jun's... it's enough to make Jun come undone.
"Now," says Masaki, but his voice is a little breathless, his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath, pink tongue flicking out unconsciously to lick his lips clean after the kiss, "are you going to be a good boy and behave yourself?" The words themselves send a shiver down Jun's spine, but more than that, Masaki's countenance, the way he's not as unaffected by the kiss as he wants to appear, the way he tilts his head slightly to meet Jun's eyes, eyebrows raised as he waits for an answer like a middle school teacher scolding a pupil. Jun hates being scolded, which is why he's a little confused by the way his body his reacting to this whole ordeal. He should roll his eyes, he should sigh heavily and whine Masakiiii, but instead his heart his racing and his breath is coming shallow and he's turned on. He'd deny it for the world if the world were here to see, but the honest truth is that some part of him likes this. And so, before he even realizes it, he's nodding, swallowing thickly as he looks up at Masaki, completely helpless. He feels like he should say something, but his throat is dry and he can't really find words, anyway.
Masaki smiles, smiles, and fuck, Jun thinks, who cares if he likes being tied up and scolded or not? He knows full well that he'd go to the ends of the earth to see Masaki smile, he knows full well that Masaki's smile is the beginning to Jun's own coming undone. The smile, he thinks, is supposed to be calm and calculating, is supposed to be intimidating in its own way, but it's Masaki, just Masaki, and Jun can see that more than anything.
But before Jun can spend much more thought on it, all of a sudden, Masaki is in his lap again, lips against Jun's, hands running over Jun's chest as if to prove that he's really there. Fuck, Jun thinks again, but his mouth is completely and wholly occupied as Masaki deepens the kiss hurriedly, aggressively. Surprisingly, however, he cedes control to Jun fairly easily, instead seeming to focus on his hands, sliding up and down Jun's chest, along his thighs, over his shoulders, into his hair. It's overwhelming, and the way Masaki is rocking in his lap isn't really doing much to help Jun's clarity of mind, but when his hands suddenly move to cup Jun's face, caressing lightly, gently, betraying everything of the persona he's put on, Jun suddenly understands. This isn't a game. This isn't a punishment. Masaki is worried about him.
The thought sinks in for a moment before it seems to explode in the back of Jun's mind, and he kisses back all the more passionately for it, wishing that his hands were free to touch Masaki, as well. But his mind is wiped clean again when he feels Masaki's hands at the button of his pants, and before he can even process what's going on, he's breaking the kiss to gasp, "Masaki-- what are you--?"
But Masaki cuts him off with a kiss again before drawing back just slightly to murmur against Jun's lips, "I'm helping you relax," and, really, who is Jun to argue with that?
It goes by in a blur-- Jun's not really coherent anymore, and he can't see much of anything, anyway-- but at the very least, Jun is painfully aware of Masaki's hands just that close to his cock as he peels away Jun's pants and boxers before drawing away again. Jun whines in a way that's really much less dignified than he'd like, but he doesn't have words, only want, pure and simple, and he thinks Masaki understands. He can see him now fiddling with something on the kitchen table, but it's more of an outline, a fuzzy, unfocused mess than anything until, after a moment that feels like an hour, he moves back into Jun's range of eyesight, just like that. Jun is attempting to form a question through he haze of arousal hanging over his brain, but before he can even open his mouth, all of a sudden, there's Masaki's hand, cool and wet and slick with what must be what was on the table, and honestly, it should probably be more unnerving than anything, but being touched after so much teasing... there's not much Jun can do as his mind goes completely blank.
"Fuck--" he chokes out, his hips canting up slightly to meet Masaki's touch as best possible in his awkward, bound position, but Masaki tsk tsks him with a shake of his head. "Not just yet," he murmurs in a voice that's far too calm for the situation, running one last teasing finger along the side of Jun's erection before stepping back again. Jun can't help but groan plaintively at the loss; he doesn't care about pride anymore, he's painfully hard and Masaki is teasing him.
But Masaki is grabbing whatever it is off the kitchen table again, and lube Jun thinks belatedly as Masaki does what Jun assumes is squeezing a bit more of the lotion out onto palm. Rubbing his fingers together, he moves closer, frowning slightly and gazing at Jun, as if planning the logistics of something, before coming to a decision and leaning over Jun once more, one hand grasping the chair behind Jun's back, forearm braced against Jun's shoulder. It's not necessarily comfortable, but Jun is glad, at the very least, to have Masaki back in contact with him. He's trying to put together some form of encouragement in his head, however, when he feels Masaki's breath hitch and accelerate against his cheek, feels Masaki's body quiver against his own, and suddenly he knows what's going on. He can't quite see in a combination of angle, obstruction, and nearsightedness, but practically breathing Masaki in as he prepares himself is nearly another tease all in itself, and Jun groans at the knowledge and at the unadulterated impatient want.
It seems too long and yet not long enough when Masaki pulls himself back into a standing position, his face flushed, lips pink, eyes cloudy with lust. It's beautiful on him (not that there's anything that isn't beautiful on Masaki), it's a sight to behold, and Jun always wants to encapsulate it, somehow. If he were their leader, he would paint it, but he's not Ohno, and it's not an expression that Jun wants to think about Masaki sharing with anyone else, anyway. But at any rate, as Masaki fully rights himself, he's into the haze again, and Jun frowns, managing a, "Can't see--" that sounds surprisingly more like the gripe Jun intended than he thought possible in his current state.
He isn't sure what he's expecting, but he's not really expecting Masaki to smile and place the lenses right back on his face. This clearly shows in his eyes, because Masaki replies without even being questioned, "I want you to pay close attention, Jun-kun, to today's lesson about de-stressing. All right?" And before Jun can respond, Masaki drops himself right into Jun's lap.
Jun isn't expecting it, and so the initial penetration wrings something between a cry and a moan from him; he tugs at his bindings, desperate to put his arms around Masaki, but to no avail. If nothing else, however, he's glad he has his glasses back; the look on Masaki's face as he tosses his head back in a combination of pain and pleasure, fingers digging into Jun's shoulders and thighs pressing tight against Jun's, is practically enough to push Jun out of control. He can feel himself shaking with the self restraint it takes to keep from rocking his hips up as hard as he possibly can, anything to push deeper into the intoxicatingly tight heat of Masaki's body, but he knows better, and besides, some part of him that's still vaguely coherent has a feeling that Masaki wants to take the reigns for this ride.
And sure enough, Masaki's fingers are slowly kneading, kneading into Jun's shoulders, and Jun watches, transfixed, as he swallows and licks his lips, watches the muscles of his neck, his shoulders lose just a little bit of their tenseness. He can feel Masaki's breaths come a little more evenly, too, and as everything settles, Jun can't help but anticipate when he's going to move, any second now, any second now-- only it seems like forever goes by and still, nothing. Finally, Jun breaks down and whines, looking up at Masaki as pitifully as his pride will allow; not that his pride has much room to talk, considering that he's bound to one of his kitchen chairs in the first place. But Masaki only laughs throatily, leaning forward to place a kiss on Jun's forehead, murmuring, "You know what they say about patience, Jun-kun."
Even the slight movement brings a groan from Jun's throat, but then, all of a sudden, Masaki's thighs squeeze tighter against his own as he draws himself up slowly, grinning at Jun all the while, before dropping back down again, hard. Hard enough that Jun's eyes clench shut as he cries out embarrassingly loudly, hard enough that it should hurt-- only Masaki is undeterred and pulling himself up again to repeat. "Shit--" Jun swears, because especially after waiting, this is almost too much to bear, the pleasure is too overwhelming, "Fuck--" and on the next slam down, Jun can't help but rock his hips up to meet Masaki's thrust. The movement draws a surprised gasp from Masaki, but then he's only bringing himself up faster, pushing himself down harder, and, god, Jun thinks, this isn't going to last long.
He can feel one of Masaki's hands trailing up the back of his neck, into his hair, fingers knotting in the loose curls of the tail end of Jun's perm, and "Masaki," Jun gasps out, "Masaki, Masaki, Masaki..." Masaki doesn't respond, but leans in to kiss Jun instead, his rhythm not slowing in the slightest, and Jun kisses back with all he's got, because this can't keep up, not at the frenzied pace that they're going. Masaki's lips are hot against his, his tongue wet and rough in Jun's mouth, and Jun doesn't ever want this to stop, doesn't want to care about limits, about breathing, despite the fact that this is going to be the end, soon, so soon...
But then Masaki pulls back, drawing himself up off of Jun almost all the way and just balancing there, and Jun lets out a strangled sound of confusion, despite himself. Looking blearily up at Masaki in confusion, they meet eyes, and Masaki smiles ever so slightly. "Does this feel good?" he asks very deliberately, and Jun nods before he can even really process the question. This seems to please Masaki, and he continues, "Do you promise to take a break from working and relax a little more often, Jun-kun?" and what else is Jun to do but nod again, because he has no voice anymore, but fuck yes, of course, of course, anything to please Masaki right now, anything.
Masaki's smile curls up further in the corners, and with a curt nod, he praises, in a voice so sweet Jun can barely comprehend it at the moment, "Good boy." And with that, he throws himself down onto Jun in complete abandon, and that is when Jun loses it.
Vaguely, he's aware of Masaki coming in some close proximity to his own orgasm, vaguely, he's aware of a warm weight in his lap and against his chest, of long, lanky arms slipping around his body, deft fingers against his arms, his back as the bindings finally fall away, but Jun's mind is so thoroughly blank right now that it's only when he feels Masaki nuzzling gently against the side of his face that he even slightly begins to come back to any state of coherency.
"Do your wrists hurt?" Masaki asks, his tone is quiet, gentle, his breath washing over Jun's ear with their faces pressed together this way. "I thought ties would feel the best, out of all the choices..."
Jun laughs; of course Masaki put that much thought into this. He should, he thinks, gripe about his ties, he should say that his delicate wrists have chafed, that his perfect skin is bruised. But somehow, right now, with Masaki all wrapped up around him, warm and soft and comforting, all of his usual answers fall away, and instead, he wraps his newly freed arms around Masaki's back and replies, "Since it was for my own good, I guess it's all right."
It feels good, to be able to hold Masaki close after wanting it this whole time, and Jun feels content enough that, for the few moments of silence, he forgets the conversation and instead wonders just how sorry they'd be if they spent the night here. He knows that, soon, they'll pull themselves together and go to bed nestled close despite the width of Jun's bed, but for right now, he's comfortable and sated and all he wants to do is stay like this.
But then Masaki speaks again, warm laughter bubbling in his voice that makes Jun simultaneously laugh too and fall in love all over again. "Hmm," he hums melodically, sliding his head into the crook of Jun's neck, his words muffled against Jun's shoulder, his lips soft against Jun's skin. "All in a day's work."