Kamen Rider Kiva, A Little Less Conversation

Title: A Little Less Conversation [Wataru/Nago]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for possessive gurus
Summary: Nago doesn’t enjoy when other people meddle unnecessarily with his things.
AN: Kamen Rider Kiva owns my soul lately, in such a way that I’m checking the TV-Nihon site daily in hopes of new subs. Spoilers maybe for up to 11, or just the fact that Nago and Kengo exist, I suppose. for bloodybrilliant who wants Seto Koji in her pocket as much as I do, and for marksykins WHO NEEDS TO CATCH UP, YO.

A Little Less Conversation

Nago Keisuke had little patience for Aso Megumi’s random prattlings, but as a member of the wonderful Aozora Organization, over time he’d learned to tune out the sound of her voice. It was either that or quit the organization, losing one of his best leads to finding Kiva, and also find a new place to have coffee.

Kurenai Wataru’s voice, on the other hand, drew his attention immediately to the conversation that was going on behind him, soft though it was.

“Um, Megumi-san,” Wataru was saying, and Nago could hear the clink of Wataru shifting his coffee cup nervously, “that’s a little…”

“A girlfriend would take care of you!” Megumi insisted, and Nago narrowed his eyes as he realized his ability to tune the whole thing out was now MIA. “Just tell me what kind of girl you like, I’m sure we can find one.”

Nago ground his teeth at the way that woman tried to bully other people into doing boring and impure things like her, and tried to concentrate on his coffee.

“I…” Wataru fumbled. “I don’t…”

“A pretty one, right?” Megumi bungled right on with her ‘help.’ “And you want one with a strong personality to keep you from doing strange things. And…”

Nago set down his coffee cup and stood up, having heard more than enough of that woman’s insufferable meddling. He stormed over to Wataru and Megumi’s table, noting with no small satisfaction the relief in Wataru’s eyes, barely masking the usual adoration.

“Let’s go,” Nago said, grabbing Wataru’s wrist and pulling him out of his chair. Megumi made a grab for Wataru’s other wrist, but Nago dragged him back, a few inches out of Megumi’s reach.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation!” Megumi protested angrily.

“It’s over,” Nago informed her. “You should be spending your energy saving the world instead of wasting it on useless things like dating.”

And then he turned on his heel and strode from the café, hand still locked firmly around Wataru’s wrist.

“But, Nago-san…” Wataru started.

“Don’t argue if you want to be my pupil,” Nago said without even glancing over his shoulder, and as expected, Wataru fell silent and let Nago lead him along.

As they marched down the sidewalk, people occasionally stared at them, but Nago ignored them. Eventually Wataru hesitantly voiced the opinion that maybe people would stop staring if Nago-san weren’t essentially holding his hand, and Nago was forced to admit that perhaps Wataru had a point.

He let go, and after a glance to make sure that Wataru was still following at suitably close range, continued forward. Neither of them spoke again until they’d arrived at their destination.

“Why are we at my house, Nago-san?” Wataru asked.

Nago didn’t bother to answer, but kept moving until he got to the small niche which Wataru’s bed occupied. He paused to let Wataru catch up, then took him by the shoulders and pulled him over to stand in front of the neatly-made bed.

“N-nago-san?” Wataru asked as Nago tugged Wataru’s button-down shirt down off his shoulders and let it drop to the side. Wataru’s cheeks turned pink as Nago reached for the hem of his T-shirt, but he didn’t protest or put up any resistance as Nago pulled the shirt up over his head.

But when Nago reached for Wataru’s belt, Wataru reached up to touch the back of Nago’s hand, not stopping him, just letting his fingers rest there, and said Nago’s name again, voice turning up even more uncertainly at the end.

“What?” Nago finally asked, a touch of irritation creeping into his tone. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d been here, and Nago couldn’t really see what questions Wataru could come up with at this point that hadn’t been long answered.

“You told Megumi-san…” Wataru’s voice strengthened when Nago made an impatient noise. “You think dating is useless?”

“Of course I do,” Nago answered. He began tugging at Wataru’s belt, and Wataru’s fingers slid down to wrap loosely around Nago’s wrist.

Nago paused and glanced up to see Wataru watching him, eyes soft and liquid brown. His fingers were warm and delicate against Nago’s skin, and if Nago stared longer than he’d meant to, it was only because he was assessing whether Wataru was going to be difficult.

Not that Wataru was ever something that Nago couldn’t handle, but he did have a certain stubborn streak that Nago wouldn’t have originally guessed to look at him.

“You said,” a little crease appeared between Wataru’s eyebrows, “that it’s impure for men and women to live together without being married.”

Nago nodded, glad that Wataru was at least listening to everything he said. “It’s low.”

“Why are we at my house, Nago-san?” Wataru repeated his original question, and Nago realized that Wataru was looking at him as if searching for some sort of reassurance.

“You aren’t a woman,” Nago answered, and then he tugged Wataru’s belt out from his belt loops and dropped it on top of his shirts.

After a few moments, Wataru’s fingers slid back from Nago’s wrists, and he reached for the buttons of Nago’s shirt, pushing them through their holes with a gentle but steady touch. Nago shrugged out of the shirt at the same time he pushed Wataru’s jeans and underwear out of the way.

It seemed that Wataru was through asking his silly questions, and Nago made a noise of approval as he pushed Wataru back until his knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit down on it rather than trip onto it in a sprawl.

It was an excellent opportunity for Nago to inspect Wataru’s condition, to make sure that nobody calling themselves his disciple had any serious physical defects, especially since Wataru lived such a sheltered life. He nodded when he was satisfied that Wataru was meeting his standards, and then spared a second to wonder how exactly Wataru kept such satisfactory muscles hidden under his clothes when his only exercise was rooting around in the park for dirt and insects.

While Nago had been inspecting Wataru, Wataru had been making himself useful by undoing Nago’s belt, so it only took a few seconds for him to strip the rest of his clothes off and crawl onto Wataru’s bed. As he slid forward, he pushed Wataru back, until Wataru was flat on his back, blinking up at Nago hovering over him. Their legs were tangled together, so that when Nago rocked his hardening cock into Wataru’s thigh, he was close enough to see Wataru’s breath catch in his throat.

“Nago-san,” Wataru said, voice thin, but Nago covered Wataru’s mouth with his own in case this was the beginning of yet more unnecessary questions. Wataru sensibly didn’t struggle, making a soft noise as he opened his mouth under Nago’s, and then he put his hands on Nago’s shoulders, touch light and unsure.

Nago was comfortable, not in a rush, and he went on kissing Wataru until Wataru’s touch became firmer, until his hands began to roam, fingers moving up to brush through the ends of Nago’s hair. It made Nago shiver, rock his hips again, and this time the noise Wataru made wasn’t so soft.

Wataru turned his face to the side, blushing more brightly, as Nago pulled away long enough to slide his hand under Wataru’s pillow. His fingers closed around the tube after only a second of searching, exactly where he’d left it, and he hummed a note of approval. Whatever strange things went on in Wataru’s head, Nago was certainly well pleased with Wataru’s obedience when given direct instructions.

He was further pleased with how easily Wataru let himself be turned over and positioned on his hands and knees, and Nago rewarded his pliancy by nibbling the skin just above the top of Wataru’s spine, a particular sensitive spot of Wataru’s he’d learned through previous exploration. Pressed tight along Wataru’s back, he could feel the shiver as Wataru forced his body to relax around Nago’s fingers, and Nago reached around with his free hand to stroke Wataru as another reward.

He paused, narrowing his eyes, when Wataru pushed his hand away after only a few strokes, before he recognized the fine tremble in Wataru’s limbs that meant he was reaching his limits. Wataru had stopped Nago to keep himself from coming too early, Nago realized.

He understood Wataru far better than that idiot Megumi, Nago thought to himself smugly as he slid his fingers free and replaced them with his cock instead. Wataru sank down onto his elbows as Nago pushed inside, Nago holding Wataru in place with lube-sticky hand on his hip, using his other to stroke Wataru’s side soothingly.

Wataru was hot and tight and, once Nago had tugged his head up out of the pillow he’d buried his face in, made some of the sweetest, throaty noises that Nago had ever heard. Although he’d heard them before, it sent a warm pulse of satisfaction down Nago’s spine to hear quiet, meek, little Wataru making those sorts of noises, to see the way Wataru twisted his fingers in his blankets, to feel Wataru pushing back against Nago’s steady thrusts.

This time when Nago reached around to palm Wataru’s cock, Wataru thrust into the touch rather than pushing him away, the pitch of his voice rising to a wail as he shuddered and spilled over Nago’s hand, his body squeezing tight around Nago.

No sense in dragging it out then, Nago figured as he repositioned his newly-sticky hand on the opposite hip from his other one. His thrusts turned deep and sharp, Wataru still whimpering underneath him, until orgasm forced his eyes shut and drove the air out of his lungs in a rush of heat.

When he managed to force his eyes back open, Nago realized after a moment of disorientation that Wataru’s body was shaking with the effort of holding himself up on his elbows and knees still. Both of them hissed as Nago pulled out of Wataru, then Wataru gave a shaky moan of relief as Nago unstuck his hands from Wataru’s skin and Wataru collapsed to the bed.

Indulgent from orgasm, Nago tugged the blanket loose from under Wataru without comment about lying on one’s own fluids. After getting himself into a comfortable position on his side, his head on Wataru’s pillow and Wataru’s back tucked into a warm line along Nago’s chest, he threw the blanket over both of them, making sure it was tucked in securely on Wataru’s other side.

Getting enough rest was essential to keeping himself in top form, Nago knew, and it wasn’t like he wanted Wataru’s shivering to keep him awake. He even tolerated a minimal amount of rustling about as Wataru found an angle for his head on Nago’s shoulder, and both of their breathing slowed.

The sound of the front door broke the silence, and Wataru tried to scramble out of Nago’s grip and his bed, only to have his progress halted by Nago’s arm.

“Lie back down,” he commanded without opening his eyes.

“What if it’s Shizuka-chan?” Wataru wailed in horror as Nago steered him right back up against his chest. “What if it’s a burglar?”

“Then maybe she’ll learn a lesson about just strolling into other people’s houses,” Nago said reasonably, pushing Wataru’s head back into a more pleasing position where Nago could rest his chin on top of it. “And if it’s an intruder, I don’t need pants to kill them with my bare hands.”

“Yo, Wata—OI!”

Nago cracked an eye open and eyed Eritate Kengo’s dangling jaw with vague distaste. Garish though the man was, he was usually harmless enough, so long as he was just trailing along after Nago quietly. On the other hand, Nago had little use for the man’s obviously poor timing.

“Hello, Kengo,” Wataru said miserably, and Nago noted with interest how the skin of Wataru’s shoulder was heating up under his fingers, but he wasn’t making any move to cover himself back up with the blanket that he’d kicked aside during his attempt at escape.

“Wataru,” Nago inquired, “have you been doing these sorts of things with Kengo?” In case Wataru wasn’t crystal clear on what “these sorts of things” were, Nago flicked a thumb over one of his nipples as he said the words.

Wataru’s skin heated up several degrees more as he mumbled, “Kengo isn’t a girl either.”

Kengo’s mouth snapped shut and he colored nearly as furiously as Wataru, darting nervous glances from Wataru’s face to Nago’s.

“I didn’t know!” he blurted, waving his hands in front of him as if to ward off Nago’s well-deserved retribution. “How was I supposed to know?!”

Nago examined Kengo’s unease with no small satisfaction. Served the Osakan right for fooling around with things that belonged to Nago. But then Nago took a better look at Kengo’s arms as he was flailing, noting how Kengo had built up some very interesting muscles from guitar-playing and construction jobs.

Perhaps Kengo was good for something after all. Nago glanced around the niche Wataru’s bed sat in and made a quick judgment about the dimensions. They could manage it, he decided.

“Well?” Nago raised an eyebrow at Kengo, who blinked back at him. “Are you going to stand there like a moron, or are you coming over here?”

Sure enough, after another second of cow-eyed blinking, Kengo broke out in a grin and announced, “That’s just like sensei!” as he started clomping his way towards them. “I’m shakin’!”

“Nago-san!” Wataru protested, but Nago didn’t even spare him a glance as Kengo pulled his shirt off and let it drop carelessly to the ground.

Wataru would thank him later.

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