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“Remember, each beat has to simmer a bit, all right? As if it's floating.”
Gackt got up from behind the drum kit and held out the sticks in his hand – but Kami did not take them back just yet. The drummer was stretching out his back languidly while standing, a hand on each opposite elbow.
“Kami?”
“Don’t worry, I heard you. Floating.” Kami winked, repeating the word in a playful mockery of Gackt’s voice. “I’ll get it right by tomorrow.”
The shoulders were next on the menu, and Gackt tried to not stare too obviously at his bandmate’s muscled torso, tank top stuck to it after hours of practice. The clock on the studio wall pointed nine thirty in the evening.
“Are you going home?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Kami answered after a groan of relief. “I forgot to set the VCR, so can’t miss tonight’s episode of Cowboy Bebop.”
Gackt smiled at that while he put the sticks in their worn case. “I’ll have to come over to your place to watch them all at some point.”
“You’re welcome to do that tonight.”
The other’s warm fingers brushed his when he returned the case, and he swallowed. “Another time. After the tour.”
And not when his heat could start at any moment, like now. Practicing together today, he had already been walking the line.
“Ah, right,” Kami said a bit sheepishly, as if he had just heard his thoughts – however, Gackt knew that any alpha could smell it on him.
A time would come, he hoped, when Kami would make a move on him. He himself was not too worried if that happened while either or both of them were affected by heat or rut – his feelings for his friend ran deeper than that.
But he suspected that it mattered to Kami.
“I know this’ll fall on deaf ears, but go home, okay?”
If only Kami used his alpha voice – Gackt would be practically skipping out ahead of him. He acknowledged with a wink of his own and a wave, watching the door shut behind the drummer’s broad back.
The studio was enveloped in silence. He did in fact, with his biggest apologies to Kami, intend to spend some more time with just the piano – but all while he played, something was tugging at him, pulling his attention away from the instrument.
Kami’s fresh, forest-y scent lingered in the air as if he was still in the room, despite having left minutes ago. Turning on the stool, he glanced around. And found the culprit.
Draped over the backrest of the sofa tucked against the far wall lay Kami’s precious SUPER LOVERS hoodie. Forgotten… or left on purpose? No matter – his feet were already walking him over, drawn to it like a moth to a lamp.
Calling Kami and get him to pick it up was an option – but then he would risk missing Cowboy Bebop. Dropping by Kami’s place to deliver it was an appealing alternative, but out of the question, as he established for himself earlier.
What he definitely should not be doing is get on the couch and bury his face in—
Cypress branches, sparkling with early morning dew.
Yes, he thought even as he forced his arms to push back against the sofa, and he sat facing the oh-so-appealing and brightly colored piece of cloth. I am stronger than this, he reassured himself even as he knelt up, back bowing and heady arousal burning in his loins as he breathed in more of that scent.
A scent he loved more than anything on earth – other than the man it belonged to.
He imagined it were Kami’s hands inching down his pants until they pooled around his knees, Kami’s hands squeezing his ass and thumbing over the slowly expanding wet spot in his underwear.
One hand coming back up, he teased his nipple through his shirt and squirmed at how sensitive he was, already. His heat was close, possibly hours away, or triggered right now.
Stroking his fingers over damp silk, his fantasy-Kami was leaning over him, holding him by the waist. Real moments of when he had seen Kami half-naked flashed before his eyes – his trained abdomen, the subtle happy trail running down into his underwear… briefs hugging his big, taut balls and cock, sometimes half-erect out of nowhere, an alpha thing as normal as blinking…
A horribly needy sound got stuck in his throat as he throbbed, feeling himself get wetter at the thought of that cock, jutting out from his friend’s strong hips and aimed right at his dripping pussy, ready to claim and seal him.
Inching his fingers forward a bit, he pushed his own cock back and between his wet folds. When he closed his thighs, his underwear kept it in place, and it was so shamelessly easy to imagine it being the swollen head of Kami’s cock instead. Rubbing endlessly flowing precum all over his inner thighs, into his hole…
He cursed under labored breath, putting an arm between his face and the hoodie so that he would not drool all over it as the fantasy started to take hold, and he knew he could no longer stop.
His fingertips met heat when they slipped inside his thong, replacing his semi-stiff cock, and he couldn’t remember himself ever being this slick. Dipping in two fingers to the second knuckle, he wondered how far Kami would stretch him as he breached.
Would he fuck him slow? Fast? … Rough?
Kami pressed up against him from behind, muscles rippling, silky hair cascading around his shoulders and grunts of pleasure rumbling in his chest as he thrust… These mental images made him moan into his elbow as he curled his fingers, aching from hours on the piano, against just the right spot inside him, again and again.
Would Kami pull out just in time and shoot his semen all over his back, marking him? Or…
Knees slipping on the sofa seat as the pressure built, he imagined Kami, voice tense right before his orgasm, telling him to take his cum. His knot.
That word on fantasy-Kami’s lips was the trigger. He buried his face into his arm to muffle his cry as he convulsed, deeply, achingly, and when he continued pushing down on his G-spot, the pressure hit a sudden, bone-shattering breaking point and he felt a warm wetness further stain his underwear.
Long-suppressed desire bloomed in his chest, his stomach, his womb, and he cried out in the moment’s delirium, mentally calling out to Kami to do all sorts of things to him. Some of which he did not even know yet.
Somehow, he had lived to his point without ever being knotted. Denying an alpha in the final moment was his favorite way to exert power over them during sex. The first time might even hurt a bit. But taking Kami’s knot tended to be all he could think about in moments like these, when he felt so wanton and vulnerable it robbed him of his breath.
He was gasping when he turned around and let himself hit the back-rest, his head on the hoodie, that scent all around him and just making him want more, deeper.
Pants and underwear around his ankles and the hem of his shirt between his teeth, he planted his feet on the sofa and tilted his hips into the plunge of his fingers, as far as they could go. Now, fantasy-Kami was sitting behind him, letting him lean against his firm body, large hands playing with his chest and skidding over his stomach. Knot still inside him.
His worn-out wrist protested, a frustrated sigh left his nose – it was not enough. Squeezing his eyes open, he looked down to see his cock, finally fully erect and leaking on his stomach. The first swipe of his thumb over his wet slit was electrifying, and he shivered all while more heat erupted beneath his skin.
To Kami it might not be the most interesting part of his body, but he wanted the alpha to touch him there. With his hands, maybe even his mouth…
Spine arched tight in pleasure, three fingers of his other hand lodged in his pussy as deep as they would go, he pumped his cock in that way he knew would take him to the best orgasm, the fastest.
“Kami, Kami—” he keened around the soaked cotton in his mouth, already feeling his walls clamp down, tighter and tighter, hot tears budding at his eyes and his toes curling. By this time, he was too numbed by the fire surging through his veins to feel any pain when his hand sped up, and it hit him like a wave, threatening to crash over a dam inside him—
Fantasy-Kami whispered in his ear.
“Come on baby, show your alpha how good you squirt.”
He seized up, vision going white as the pulsing in his core overtook him briefly, to be followed by a molten, all-encompassing warmth that spread to the very tips of his toes and short-circuited his brain.
Splayed on that sofa, limp like a ragdoll, it was not until a car honked somewhere that he came back to himself, and more importantly, where he was.
The studio. Late evening. Anytime the janitor could walk in to lock up the place, only to find an omega in a mess of his own making, pussy facing the world. He sighed raggedly, chewed-up shirt finally falling from his mouth, and the still warm fluid on his stomach already starting to feel like a nuisance.
He had it bad. If Kami didn’t make up his mind soon, he would become a real public hazard.
Somewhere in the depths of his bag, his cellphone buzzed. Groaning, he shifted around like an overturned bug and swung his arm around until it hit its target, on the floor next to the sofa. Upon flipping it open, the device flashed a message from Kami at him.
Sorry, think I left my hoodie at the studio
You’re still there, right?
Heart stopping, he looked at the time received – twenty minutes ago. The janitor was the least of his problems. Any second, Kami could open the door and see him, pants on the floor, covered in—
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
I have it, he hastily typed in reply. Will return it tomorrow.
But if Kami was headed back there, he may not even see it. Moving lightning fast now despite every muscle in his body protesting, he wiped himself down with the towel he had brought and bit through having to get back into his underwear. Thankfully, the sofa was already covered in suspicious-looking stains. Bandmen used this place, after all.
There was nothing he could do to get any remnants of his own scent out of the hoodie, but this did not bother him. To the contrary – he was looking forward to seeing Kami’s reaction once the hoodie was back in his hands.
Unfortunately, he would have to wait to see it. Seconds later, another message from Kami wished him goodnight, and told him to go home and get some sleep. The smallest of smirks pulled at his lips, panic quickly faded.
Minutes later he left the studio, the hoodie slung over his shoulder, and a warm buzzing in the pit of his stomach. If his heat came as he thought it did, Kami would not see his hoodie for at least three days.
Some quality sleep it will be.