Kis-My-Ft2, So That You Don’t Notice

Title: So That You Don’t Notice [Nikaido/Senga]
Rating/Warnings: R for bandmate fumbling and claiming to be more experienced than is the reality.
Summary: Nikaido always ends up baby-sitting Senga, and both of them have had enough of it.
AN: swtjemz demanded porn. Also, she gets mad when i don’t mention her name in conjunction with the jrs.

So That You Don’t Notice

“It’s not fair!” Senga crossed his arms and pouted.

The pout got deeper when Nikaido just laughed as he sat two sodas down on the coffee table and sat down next to Senga.

“Maa, don’t pout like that, Ken-chan,” he admonished, tapping Senga on the nose and making him wrinkle it. “You’ll get lines.”

“But everyone else gets to go out to the clubs!” Senga whined, reaching up to brush Nikaido’s hands away from his face. “I hate being the youngest!”

“Not everybody is out! Tamamori and Miyata aren’t old enough either,” Nikaido reminded.

“They wouldn’t care if they were.” Senga wasn’t willing to give up his pout just yet. “They’d still spend every weekend sleeping over at each other’s houses like it was elementary school.”

“Mm, maybe not quite like that…” Nikaido smirked, then smirked wider when Senga blinked at him, uncomprehending. “Ne, Ken-chan, want me to show you why?”

Senga chewed his lower lip for a second, considering, then turned away with a frown. “You’re teasing me again.”

“I’m not!” Nikaido protested, reaching over to turn Senga’s chin back towards him, but Senga shook him off.

“Yes, you are.” Senga grabbed one of the sodas and snapped the top viciously. “It’s cause I’m the youngest. You won’t really tell me anything, you’ll just laugh at me. Right?”

Senga looked up suddenly, and the intensity of his glare made Nikaido’s breath catch, caught by surprise. Senga looked angry, not play-acting, his frown pulling the skin tight over his newly-sharp cheekbones.

Like he’d never seen them before, Nikaido found himself lifting his hands to cup Senga’s face, running his thumbs along those cheekbones. Senga’s expression grew even more irritated, making him look older suddenly, unlike his usual childish grin.

Nikaido realized that it had been a little while since he’d taken a good look at Senga, the gradual changes, which had gone unnoticed since they saw each other every day, adding up suddenly.

“I won’t laugh,” Nikaido said. He’d meant it to sound reassuring, but instead it came out low, rough, and Senga’s gaze flickered between Nikaido’s eyes and his mouth. “Hey, Ken-chan,” Nikaido stroked his thumbs along Senga’s cheekbones again, “you’ve been growing up.”

Senga shivered, just a little, but enough that Nikaido saw it, enough that Nikaido threw the talk Kitayama had given him about where the line was with Senga right out the window, and then leaned forward and pressed his lips against Senga’s.

As if the thought had invoked him, just then Nikaido’s phone rang suddenly, making them spring apart, to opposite ends of the couch. Nikaido swallowed against the pounding of his heart, almost louder than the strains of Deep In Your Heart, then reached into his pocket and yanked out his phone.

“What?!” he snapped into it.

“Hello to you too, Nika-chan,” Kitayama said smoothly. In the background, Nikaido could hear the thump of club music, as well as Fujigaya’s distinctive laugh. “Just calling to see if you and Ken-chan were having a good night.”

“We’re fine,” Nikaido answered, flicking a glance over to find Senga sitting, watching him, motionless.

“What are you up to?” Kitayama asked, as if he had the whole night to chat, and Nikaido resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “Rent a Disney movie? Building a pillow fort?” When Nikaido didn’t answer right away, Kitayama continued. “Well, I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything too good. We had a little talk about that, remember?”

“I remember, Mitsu,” Nikaido ground out. “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”

“Somebody’s in a rush…” Kitayama was interrupted by Yokoo’s voice, telling Kitayama to leave the children alone and come buy his round already. “Ah, I’ve got to run. Play nice, Nika-chan~!”

Nikaido hung up his phone and shoved it back in his pocket, then took a deep breath and let it out slow, releasing his irritation. When he looked up, Senga was exactly where he’d been for the whole conversation, touching his lips with his fingertips and watching Nikaido.

“Senga…” Nikaido started, forcing himself to look away from Senga’s mouth.

“Tell me what Miyata and Tamamori are doing tonight,” Senga said.

“Probably exactly what we’re doing,” Nikaido answered with a shrug, picking up the unopened can of soda and rolling it between his hands. “Sitting around, watching a movie…”

“Stop lying and look at me,” Senga ordered, startling Nikaido into looking up. Senga’s eyes were narrowed and he lowered his hand from his mouth. “I’m not thirteen anymore. Tell me what Miyata and Tamamori are doing.”

“Because sixteen is such an improvement!” Nikaido snapped, letting his irritation flare back to life and chase away the fallacy of his statement. “You think you’re old enough to know, fine! Tamamori and Miyata are probably having sex as we speak!”

Nikaido paused a moment to enjoy the way Senga’s jaw dropped at his bluntness. He should have stopped right there, he knew, but the adrenaline of his kiss with Senga and his frustration with Kitayama had stripped away his inhibitions.

“I don’t have all the details,” he continued, “but I’ve gathered that Tamamori usually tops, although occasionally they switch, and also that the reason Miyata’s gym bag always smells like strawberry is not because his chapstick melted, like he claims, it’s because the cap from his lube accidentally came loose. Anything else you want to know?”

To his credit, Senga pulled himself together enough to glare at Nikaido and ask, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because you used to be thirteen!” Nikaido shouted, then collapsed back against the couch in a slump. “You used to be too young, and you’re probably still too young, and that’s why Kitayama makes me baby-sit you and then calls to make sure I’m not doing anything untoward with you! Which, by the way,” Nikaido didn’t bother to keep the anger out of his voice, “is a position I don’t particularly enjoy being trapped in!”

There was a long moment of silence. Nikaido stared at the can of soda in his hands, because he was already starting to regret what he’d said, and he didn’t want to see the look of hurt on Senga’s face.

He was certainly not expecting Senga to cover his hands with his own, pulling away the soda can and sitting it on the table, before climbing into Nikaido’s lap.

“I’m sorry you have to baby-sit me,” Senga said before Nikaido could work any words in around his surprise. Senga adjusted his weight so that his hips were snug against Nikaido’s, his knees pressing into the couch on either side of Nikaido’s thighs. “I’m sorry Hiromii trapped you here.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Nikaido protested, cheeks flushing. Senga chuckled, running his thumbs along Nikaido’s cheekbones, and Nikaido looked back up at the reminder of his earlier touch.

“Let me make it up to you?” Senga asked, then pressed his mouth to Nikaido’s without waiting for a response.

It was the exact opposite of the first kiss, Senga’s mouth fierce and unpracticed against Nikaido’s, while Nikaido kept still, frozen with surprise. It was a full ten seconds before he snapped out of it, and then he gave a muffled groan and clutched at the small of Senga’s back where his T-shirt was riding up out of his jeans.

Senga jerked back with a shriek, breaking the kiss, leaving Nikaido blinking in confusion.

“Your hands are cold,” Senga explained, grin sheepish, and Nikaido laughed after a second, before sinking his fingers back into Senga’s skin, making him squirm.

“Let me tell you how you can warm me up,” Nikaido suggested, working his hands up under Senga’s T-shirt and stroking the warm skin of his back. Senga curled his back into the touch as he bent his head for another kiss, just as enthusiastic as the first. “Mmm, you’re a terrible kisser…”

Lifting his head, Senga thwacked Nikaido in the chest with the heel of his palm. “I give you my first kiss and you tell me I suck? Where’s your phone, I’m calling Hiromii and telling on you!”

Senga made a show of patting down Nikaido in search of pockets, and Nikaido laughed and pushed him over so that he landed on his back on the couch.

“No, no, I’m flattered,” Nikaido soothed, crawling over Senga and settling with his knees in between Senga’s thighs, holding himself up on his elbows. “It means I get to show you how to do it right…ah, ah!” he warned when Senga picked his head up in anticipation of the kiss, and Senga let his head flop back down with a pout. “Don’t be in such a hurry! You shouldn’t rush through all the good parts.”

Nikaido leaned down to bump foreheads with Senga, and when Senga tried to tilt into the kiss again, avoided his lips completely. Instead, Nikaido brushed his lips over Senga’s nose, cheekbones, ear, everyplace but where Senga wanted him.

“Nikaaaa!” Senga finally whined.

“Okay, okay,” Nikaido agreed, letting his weight down onto Senga’s chest and kissing him for real, soft and closed-lipped. Senga positively snuggled up into Nikaido’s weight, wrapping arms around Nikaido’s neck and kissing back enthusiastically.

“Hey!” Senga protested when Nikaido gave his lower lip a sharp nip.

“Do you want to learn or don’t you?” Nikaido asked, waiting for Senga’s sulky “Yes” before kissing the injury. “Then slow down. Just do what I do.”

“What you do?” Senga asked, raising an eyebrow, but not exactly hiding his interest. “Who made you the expert anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nikaido answered before pressing his lips back against Senga’s.

This time he waited a few moments to make sure Senga was paying attention, and when Senga didn’t do anything more startling than breath through his nose, rewarded him with a swipe of his tongue over Senga’s lower lip.

Senga gave a little sigh and parted his lips, inviting, and Nikaido was more than happy to take the invitation. He stroked his tongue along Senga’s, the touch teasing, but Senga had apparently decided to be a good student and waited for Nikaido’s next move.

Nikaido did his best to teach by example, leisurely exploring Senga’s mouth and tasting every corner, until Senga was giving a steady series of soft noises against his mouth and had one hand fisted in the ends of Nikaido’s hair.

“Nika,” Senga whispered when Nikaido pulled back a half-inch to breathe, both of their chests rising and falling quickly. Nikaido hummed in response, idly wrapping his fingers in a few strands of hair that had fallen over Senga’s forehead. “Can I show you what I learned yet?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but pulled Nikaido’s head back down to press their mouths together. Senga had learned more than a little, it turned out, and smoothed his lips against Nikaido’s a few times without going any further, drawing slow circles against Nikaido’s scalp with his fingertips.

“Ken-chan,” Nikaido murmured when he couldn’t take it any more, “Kento, please.”

“Hmm,” Senga hummed, then slipped his tongue into Nikaido’s mouth and explored every bit as thoroughly as Nikaido had done to him.

He had a few tricks of his own, as Nikaido discovered, and by the time, Senga let his head flop back against the couch, Nikaido realized that Senga was hard against his hip, and that at some point one of them had started a slow rock of their hips into each other.

“Sorry,” Nikaido apologized immediately, blushing as he stopped his movement.

Senga shrugged and rocked up against Nikaido as if to prove they were even. He licked his lips before asking, “What happens next?”

Nikaido’s blush only deepened. Contrary to the image he’d been presenting to Senga, his sexual experience was only more comprehensive than Senga’s if he included that one incident with Yokoo behind the costume rack.

It had been quick and messy, and also sort of terrifying. Nikaido didn’t want Senga to be terrified.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Nikaido admitted, since Senga was still staring at him, head tilted in curiosity. “There’s a reason that I’m the one they send to baby-sit you.”

Senga laughed, making Nikaido jump, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. Instead it was sweet and happy, and so very Senga that Nikaido couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing him again. Senga arched to meet him, rolling his hips up into Nikaido’s.

“We’re right back where we started,” Nikaido broke the kiss to tease, then his eyes widened when Senga’s hands left his hair and slid over the curve of his ass instead, rubbing slow and firm over the denim.

“Can’t be that hard to figure out, can it?” Senga asked, giving Nikaido a sly grin. “I mean, if Yamashita and Akanishi can figure it out…”

“You aren’t quite as innocent as you pretend you are,” Nikaido commented, leaning his weight on one elbow and against the back of the couch to give him room to trail a hand down Senga’s chest. He slowed as he got closer to the zipper of Senga’s jeans, watching Senga’s face for hesitation.

“Like there’s anybody in the Jimusho who doesn’t know about them.” Senga smiled, then leaned up to brush his lips over Nikaido’s cheekbone, right as Nikaido’s fingers hovered over the button of his jeans. “I trust you, Nika. Don’t keep me waiting.”

A shiver ran the length of Nikaido’s body, making it hard to fumble the button through the stiff denim, but Nikaido managed it after a few seconds. Senga breathed Nikaido’s name again as Nikaido tugged the zipper down, his touch brushing Senga’s erection.

And then Senga’s cock was in his hand, hard and hot, and Senga was moving against him, pushing into his grip, his fingers digging into Nikaido’s ass and his voice breathless as he begged Nikaido not to stop.

“Kento,” Nikaido breathed, heart stuttering at the way Senga looked underneath him. He kissed Senga again, swallowing the soft groans Senga made against his mouth, then moaned himself at the jump of Senga’s cock against his palm.

“I think…” Senga said, letting go of Nikaido’s ass to hold onto his shoulders instead, fingers twisting tight in the fabric of Nikaido’s shirt. “Nika, I can’t…”

“It’s fine,” Nikaido murmured in Senga’s ear, “go ahead,” and then Nikaido’s breath caught as Senga tipped his head back and came over Nikaido’s hand, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth parted.

Senga shuddered against Nikaido, gasping for air. Nikaido kept stroking Senga until the last aftershock had passed, then he pulled his hand away. At a loss what to do with it, since it was still covered in Senga’s come, Nikaido looked at it for a second before just leaving it in a loose curl against Senga’s stomach.

“S-sorry,” Senga said, making Nikaido look back up at his face. Senga’s cheeks were pink and he wasn’t meeting Nikaido’s gaze. “That was sort of fast, and…”

Nikaido gathered Senga up in his arms and squeezed him tight, remembering after a second that he was probably smearing come all over the back of Senga’s shirt, and then dismissing the thought as unimportant.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, nose pressed against Senga’s hair, and then he blushed himself when his brain caught up with his mouth, but he didn’t look away when Senga pushed him back to search his face for teasing.

Senga’s smile, still uncertain at the edges, was more than worth it when he was sure Nikaido wasn’t making fun of him.

“Hey,” Senga said, getting a hand in between them to skim Nikaido’s stomach. “You’re still hard.” Senga’s gaze darted down to his hand, and his tongue poked out to smooth over his lower lip. “Do you want me to…”

Nikaido had to swallow before he could answer, “You don’t have to,” and then his breath stuck in his throat when Senga’s hand brushed lower, cupping Nikaido through his jeans. “Kento…”

“Maybe I want to.” Senga gave Nikaido a smile that was far more confidant than the look in his eyes, but he didn’t lose any time joining his first hand with his second hand, and undoing Nikaido’s jeans. Nikaido shifted over to brace himself over Senga with both elbows, biting his lip when Senga pushed Nikaido’s boxers out of the way and got both hands around his cock.

It was the look on Senga’s face that tore the groan from Nikaido’s throat; it was all heated interest and curiosity, a deadly mix of innocent exploration as his fingers mapped Nikaido’s skin and wicked tease when he discovered the notch just under Nikaido’s tip that made his whole body shiver.

“It’s so hot,” Senga murmured, as if to himself, and Nikaido moaned again at the thought of what Senga would be capable of when he realized what dirty talk was all about. “So smooth. Ne, Nika, it feels different than touching my own.”

“Works the same,” Nikaido grunted, dropping his forehead to press it against Senga’s shoulder. “Just a little harder, please?”

“Like this?” Senga asked, but Nikaido didn’t answer because that was it exactly, Senga’s hands tight and quick around his skin, and Nikaido sank his teeth into Senga’s shoulder through his T-shirt and came hard against him.

Everything felt funny when Nikaido peeled his eyes back open a minute or two later, like the world had shifted a few degrees on its axis.

“Ow,” Senga said, brushing fingers up next to Nikaido’s face to rub at his shoulder, but when Nikaido lifted his head to apologize, Senga was smiling at him, smug and content, a normal Senga smile. Nikaido’s world settled back into place, axis exactly where it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad you look amused.” Nikaido reached up to smooth the hair away from Senga’s face, chest warming at the way Senga leaned into the touch.

Senga’s grin turned smirk at the corners as he pressed fingers against the bite mark. “Mitsu’s going to kill you when he sees this.”

Nikaido spluttered a response, and Senga laughed, then shut him up with a long, slow kiss. Nikaido was more than happy to melt into it, to press close to Senga and to move along with the rise and fall of his chest.

“Mm, that’s okay,” Nikaido murmured when the kiss broke, rubbing his cheek along Senga’s, “because you’re probably smearing come on your mother’s couch as we speak.”

“Oh SHIT!” Senga’s eyes went wide with horror, and he shoved Nikaido off of him to sit up and twist around frantically, searching for evidence. Nikaido laughed as he sat back against the other arm, running a hand through his hair and looking at the mess he’d made of his shirt.

“It’s fine, come on,” he said, standing up and reaching down to tug Senga up by the hands. “You’re going to lend me a shirt.”

“How about I lend you the bath instead.” Senga squeezed Nikaido’s hand, and gave Nikaido the smile that was supposed to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. “Stay the night?”

“Only if you’ll share the bath,” Nikaido answered, cupping Senga’s face in his hands and kissing him again. It seemed like he couldn’t stop kissing Senga, couldn’t get enough of the small noises Senga made against his mouth, or the way Senga’s hands found their way into the hair that curled against Nikaido’s neck.

Nikaido’s phone rang suddenly, Deep In Your Heart again, and this time they pulled apart slow as Nikaido reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out. He held it up so Senga could see Kitayama’s name on the screen and raised an eyebrow.

Giving Nikaido a wicked grin, Senga plucked the phone out of his hand and clicked the answer button. “Hello there, Mitsu.” Senga tilted his head as he listened to the buzz of Kitayama’s voice. “Well, Nikaido was just about to join me in the bath, so…”

Senga’s eyes were sly as he met Nikaido’s gaze over the phone, which was emitting a series of tinny squawks from Kitayama, and Nikaido had to chuckle, because Kitayama really was going to murder him when they showed up to practice the next day.

Well, Nikaido figured as he slid hands around Senga’s waist and under his T-shirt, getting a shiver and a hooded gaze out of Senga, he might as well have as much fun as possible before then.

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