ABC-Z, 電流 (Electric Current)

Title: 電流 (Denryuu/Electric Current) [Hashimoto/Totsuka]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for Hashimoto making it way too easy.
Summary: It’s not that Totsuka’s jealous exactly, it’s just that he wishes Hashimoto didn’t give himself to people quite so freely. Also the Snowmen are trouble.
AN: and then the_kouhai made me write her Tottsu done up against the wall. um. It also has a lot to do with this scan, where Hasshi is molesting Goseki like crazy on stage.

電流 (Electric Current)

On stage, Hashimoto has more than one moment where he seems just about to steal a kiss from his bandmates, but pulls himself back at the last second. During practice, he’s not as contained.

“Mm?” Goseki asks, voice muffled by Hashimoto’s mouth, but he doesn’t object either. Instead he lets Hashimoto steal the kiss he’s after, and then steals it back for himself, drawing Hashimoto down with an arm around his neck so he doesn’t have to stretch so much. When it doesn’t look to be a fleeting exchange, Tsukada leans in from the other side to tease that he wants one too, twining his arms around Hashimoto’s and looking winsome when he attracts a little of their attention. It’s a toss-up which of them will get to Tsukada first, and then Kawai starts up with his usual need for attention, and things are entirely out of control when Totsuka puts his foot down.

“Oi, oi!” he says, striding into the midst of them and shoving until they scatter like sexually frustrated pigeons. All except Hashimoto, who stands his ground, beaming at Totsuka.

“Hi, Tottsu,” he says, sounding more like they’ve bumped into each other in a shop than been practicing together all morning.

“This is blocking practice, not makeout practice,” Totsuka reminds, crisp for the others’ sake, not that Hashimoto takes any offense to it. “Maybe if we were as good at one thing as the other, we might have our own concerts too, hm?”

“He started it,” Goseki comments, which is infuriatingly true, but the mention of Fujigaya beating them at life snaps Kawai out of it immediately, and he takes over ordering them back into their start positions so they can fix the problems from the last show.

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Tsukada apologizes later to Totsuka when they have a moment.

Totsuka’s accepts his apology magnanimously, but… “It isn’t like I enjoy being the voice of reason, you know.”

Tsukada scratches the back of his head, sheepish. “He makes it so easy, though. Must be the spirit of youth, ne?”

“The spirit of youth,” Totsuka echoes with a raised eyebrow.

‘The spirit of youth,’ if that’s what they’re calling it nowadays, also is apparently what causes Hashimoto to spend just a little too much time with Sanada and Miyadate for Totsuka’s comfort, to be found in the occasional compromising position with Watanabe, and even to turn up with his navel deco’ed once or twice, Sakuma showing him off like his latest work of art.

“Would you put your shirt down, please?” Totsuka asks once all the invading Snowmen have been shooed away. “And honestly, would it kill you to spend a lunchbreak with your actual unit?”

“Snowmen are fun to play with?” Hashimoto shrugs a shoulder towards the wings of the stage. “And Gocchi kicked me out of the dressing room anyway.”

“Oh, him,” Totsuka sighs, because he’d been complaining harder than anybody that morning about why their adorable kouhai was having his cheeks and whatever else pinched by THEY Budou. “Why? Do I want to know why?”

“Tsuka-chan’s supposed to be resting his knee,” Hashimoto reports, then tilts his head thoughtfully. “Or on his knees? One of those.”

“Hasshi-chan~!” Yamamoto calls sweetly as he jogs onstage, but the look Totsuka throws over his shoulder at him sends Yamamoto right back the way he came with a hurried “Nevermind!” probably off to tattle to Yara about how ABC are bullying everyone without Yara there to keep them properly exhausted.

“Somebody ought to be keeping him properly exhausted,” Totsuka grumbles to himself. When he turns back, Hashimoto is eyeing him with just a little too much understanding for Totsuka’s liking.

“Tottsu’s jealous,” Hashimoto declares, ignoring Totsuka’s protest that, really, that’s ridiculous. “It’s okay, though. Tottsu can have a kiss anytime.” And as if to demonstrate, Hashimoto leans over to press his mouth firmly to Totsuka’s. The kiss is lingering and sweet, Hashimoto reaching over to smooth thumbs across Totsuka’s cheekbones, the touch gentle. It makes Totsuka’s mouth fall open a little, just enough for a fleeting brush of Hashimoto’s tongue against his own before Hashimoto pulls back and smiles at Totsuka just as sweetly, cheeks dusted with pink, eyes brown and inviting.

“Tottsu can have me anytime,” he clarifies, just in case the message wasn’t clear enough.

Totsuka gets enough of his neurons firing to ask, “How’s now for you?”

They nearly get away clean, but just as they sneak off (for all values of ‘sneaking’ that involve Hashimoto) Kawai comes around the corner. He catches eyes with Totsuka for a second, just long enough for Totsuka to understand that Kawai will cover for them but that Totsuka is so going to pay for this later after his outburst about professionalism. Then Hashimoto is tugging Totsuka along by the wrist and they disappear into the wings.

“There’s nowhere to…” Totsuka starts, then bumps into Hashimoto’s back when he stops abruptly.

“Here’s fine,” Hashimoto announces. Totsuka sticks his head around Hashimoto’s shoulder.

“It’s just the wall?” he ventures.

The grin that Hashimoto throws over his shoulder is sharp and knowing and so, so not okay. “It’s fine for my plannings.”

Hashimoto’s plannings, it turns out, involve Totsuka being yanked by the wrist up against the wall, and then pressed into it by Hashimoto’s weight hard enough that Totsuka can feel the rough pattern of the cinderblock through his T-shirt. Totsuka would argue, except Hashimoto’s already got his mouth covered. This kiss is anything but sweet, Hashimoto licking along Totsuka’s lips until Totsuka lets him in, Hashimoto’s interest already hardening against Totsuka’s thigh.

“Oi,” Totsuka says in mild protest when he tears his mouth away to gasp for air, “I though you said I could have you anytime?”

“But if you want me,” a hint of Hashimoto’s usual naivete breaks through the lust, “I’m giving and you’re receiving, right?”

Totsuka has a moment of pause at Hashimoto’s unexpected cleverness, before reality sets in.

“Who told you to say that?” he asks.

“Kawai,” Hashimoto answers, unabashed. “He said I should definitely give it to you. Hard.”

“Idiots,” Totsuka grumbles, before Hashimoto seizes his mouth again and cuts off the ‘superfluid conversation.’

Totsuka gives in without too much of a fight, though, not caring about the specifics so much when Hashimoto’s hands are hot against his skin, sliding up under his T-shirt until he can thumb at Totsuka’s nipples. The touch makes Totsuka whine in the back of his throat and push up against Hashimoto’s weight, and whine some more when Hashimoto pushes him firmly back down. He brings hands up to cup Hashimoto’s face and makes a quieter noise at the soft brush of Hashimoto’s hair against the backs of his hands.

Gradually Hashimoto’s hands drift back and down, rubbing along Totsuka’s spine until he’s sliding them past the elastic of Totsuka’s sweatpants, ahd his palms feel even hotter against Totsuka’s ass.

“It’s okay, right?” Hashimoto asks, eyes begging Totsuka to say yes, but with a hint of ‘you can say no,’ bless him. “‘Cause the wall’s right here and everything…”

“It’s okay,” Totsuka agrees, then firms up his expression to add, “but if you drop me, you’ll be the one getting it until the end of this show, got it?”

It’s not much in the way of threats, so far as things go with Hashimoto, but Hashimoto bobs his head right away anyway and says he definitely gets it. Then he kisses Totsuka again like he’s sealing the deal, open-mouthed and possessive, sucking all the air out Totsuka’s lungs until Totsuka has fingers wrapped tight in Hashimoto’s shirt. When Hashimoto pulls back to grin at Totsuka, Totsuka’s glad the wall’s behind him to lean against.

“Idiot,” Totsuka says fondly as Hashimoto pulls a couple foil squares from the pocket of his sweats. Hashimoto’s grin doesn’t waver, and he leans in to kiss Totsuka’s cheek before dropping to his knees. “This is a terrible idea.” It’s true, there’s only a scatter of stage equipment and set pieces blocking them from anybody wandering by, even if virtually everybody is occupied with lunch or skipping lunch to practice. “Anybody could hear us back here.”

Hashimoto does seem minimally put out about that. “Tottsu can’t be loud,” he sighs, tugging Totsuka’s own sweatpants down and rubbing his cheek against the ridge of Totsuka’s hip.

“Yes, because I’m the one with that problem,” Totsuka teases, kicking off his sneaker and tugging one leg free of the sweats entirely. He’s surprised when Hashimoto looks up with a flash of annoyance.

“I didn’t mean that I couldn’t do it,” he says, and a wave of heat rushes over Totsuka’s skin as he realizes what Hashimoto was actually complaining about.

“Next time,” Totsuka promises, hooking his knee over Hashimoto’s shoulder to tug him closer. It’s a promise he probably can’t keep, but it does make Hashimoto blush pleasingly. “Hurry it up, this is a public wall and others might want to use it.”

Hashimoto chuckles, dark and knowing, and licks a hot stripe down the length of Totsuka’s cock, hands busy tearing at the foil. “More than one others definitely have.”

“Don’t tell me about it,” Totsuka says. He sucks in a breath when Hashimoto’s fingers are between his legs suddenly, the touch of the pre-lubricated condom cool before Totsuka’s skin warms it. Totsuka concentrates on watching Hashimoto’s expression as he slides a first finger inside, forgetting about the sting of the second one in favor of enjoying how cute Hashimoto’s ‘I’m concentrating’ face is. Hashimoto flicks gazes up to Totsuka’s face every couple seconds, checking, nibbling his bottom lip. “You don’t have to take so much care, you know.”

“It’s Tottsu,” Hashimoto scolds him, like that’s the whole explanation, and Totsuka’s blood flashes hot, making him push down against Hashimoto’s fingers. “Anyway, shut up up there.” To make sure Totsuka’s good and distracted, Hashimoto turns his head to lick at Totsuka’s tip.

He adds a third finger then, and Totsuka hisses and presses his shoulders harder against the wall. He lets his eyes fall shut and wills himself to breathe and relax, to let Hashimoto in, but they fly open when his cock is suddenly engulfed in wet heat. When his vision focuses, he finds himself looking down into Hashimoto’s eyes, dark with want and sympathy, Hashimoto’s lips pink and wet where they’re stretched over his length.

“It’s so not okay how good you look doing that,” Totsuka groans, head thunking back against the wall, but not so much that he can’t still watch. Hashimoto makes a questioning noise. “Want to hear it? So spoiled.” Totsuka tries for mildly disapproving, but it doesn’t really come out that way at all since Hashimoto’s taking him in deeper to show his approval. “Want to hear how good your mouth feels on me? If we didn’t need your voice so much, you’d spend a lot more of your time like this, definitely. Would you want it rougher, if we could?”

Totsuka slides a hand into Hashimoto’s hair and wraps it tight in the strands, just to watch the way Hashimoto’s eyes widen, pupils round and black. Totsuka pushes in just a little more, just a flex of his hips, knowing he shouldn’t because he might not stop, and that’s before Hashimoto gives a strangled moan that Totsuka feels the whole way back to his spine.

He lets his hand drop from Hashimoto’s hair and his weight go slack against the wall, and he has to swallow a groan of his own at the flash of disappointment in Hashimoto’s face.

“Quit it, I’m ready.” Totsuka closes his eyes a minute, drawing a deep breath, not that it helps. “Get up here before I do something that gets us both fired.” His eyes are still closed, but he feels the loss of Hashimoto’s fingers and mouth, hears him tear the second condom open and the soft rustle of Hashimoto shoving down his own sweats enough to roll it on.

“If it’s Tottsu…” Hashimoto starts, but Totsuka yanks him close by the shirt to kiss him hard enough to shut him up, to keep him from saying shit that’s even more dangerous than how he looks or dances or belongs to them.

“Ready?” Totsuka asks when he’s pulled back to kick off the other sneaker and the rest of the sweatpants, and Hashimoto nods. “Remember what I said.”

“I won’t drop you,” Hashimoto promises seriously, but then there’s a flash of mischief that Totsuka blames entirely on Kawai. “But if I get Tottsu for the rest of the summer, isn’t it a temptation?”

Before Totsuka can even figure out where to start with that, Hashimoto bends enough to hook hands around the back of Totsuka’s thighs. Totsuka has a moment of panic as Hashimoto starts to lift, grabbing wildly at his shoulders, but Hashimoto’s grip doesn’t waver. He hefts Totsuka’s weight easily, like it’s nothing, up high enough that Totsuka can wrap his legs around Hashimoto’s waist.

“I forget how stupidly strong you are sometimes,” Totsuka admits, letting the wall take some of his weight while Hashimoto shifts his grip enough that he can use one hand to hold his cock steady. “This must be how TOKIO feels.”

“I’m way cuter than Godzilla,” Hashimoto mumbles, distracted lining himself up.

Wrong TOKIO, Totsuka was planning to say, but just then Hashimoto gets it all right at once and pushes just enough inside of Totsuka to drive all the air out of Totsuka’s lungs.

Gravity does most of the work, pulling Totsuka down onto Hashimoto maybe a little faster than he’d like, but it can’t be helped. Totsuka wraps his arms tighter around Hashimoto’s neck and presses his face into Hashimoto’s neck, muffling the soft noises he can’t swallow all of. Hashimoto’s hands are firm on him, grip steady enough that Totsuka isn’t worried about falling, murmuring stupid reassurances against Totsuka’s hair. Totsuka wants to laugh–shouldn’t it be him reassuring the kouhai?–but he can’t get enough air to do it, or do anything besides pant and shiver around Hashimoto.

“Okay,” Totsuka says shakily, too soon for it to be true, and Hashimoto makes a disbelieving noise, but it’s okay enough, Hashimoto feels good enough inside him, the stretch and sting of it part of the package deal. “Please? It’s better if you move.”

On the first thrust, Totsuka moves right along with Hashimoto, so they don’t get much of anywhere.

“Sorry,” Totsuka mumbles, trying to figure out how to hang on and pull back at the same time. “Let me…”

“I got it,” Hashimoto says, confident, then turns Totsuka’s arms weak anyway with a casual, “I like it when Tottsu holds on tight.”

It takes Hashimoto a couple tries, but then he does get it as promised, the wall taking enough of Totsuka’s weight that Hashimoto can hold the rest in place with his hands under Totsuka’s thighs, giving him a couple inches to pull out and push back in. It makes his thrusts quick and brutally deep, Totsuka clinging uselessly to him and biting down on Hashimoto’s shoulder to keep from moaning loud enough to bring half the cast running.

“I definitely want to hear you next time,” Hashimoto grunts, making Totsuka whine in the back of his throat. “Ne, I can’t…reach you like this.”

“So?” Totsuka asks, not really in control of what’s coming out of his mouth. He’s not in control of basically anything, actually, can’t think about anything besides Hashimoto thick and hot inside him, the drag of him pulling out while Totsuka’s body tightens to keep him where he is and the sparks that fire over his nerves when Hashimoto slams back in.

“So touch yourself,” Hashimoto orders, and Totsuka shudders involuntarily at Hashimoto’s sudden unexpected dominant side.

“I can’t,” Totsuka protests, even though he definitely wants to. It’s all too much, the pressure and the force of it teetering between pleasure and burn, and he knows he needs to start getting himself off if he wants it to stay that way much longer.

“I definitely won’t drop you,” Hashimoto insists, the command in his voice making Totsuka rock against him with another whine. “Let go! Touch yourself!”

There’s no way Totsuka can fight him. He tightens one arm as much as he can around Hashimoto’s neck and drops the other between them, struggling to get it around his cock and jerk himself off as quickly as he can. The single rational corner of his brain is still chanting that he’s going to fall at any second, sending his blood rushing even faster and adrenaline flooding his system like he’s doing some trick on the wires that Tackey designed. He’s so close, so close, but can’t quite grab it and digs his fingers into Hashimoto’s skin tighter, keening in frustration.

“Tell me where,” Hashimoto says, and Totsuka has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about until Hashimoto suddenly shifts him down a little. Totsuka scrabbles at him, panic making everything tight enough that Hashimoto spits a curse. “I told you I won’t drop you,” he snaps, the fierceness of it clearing enough of the haze from Totsuka’s brain that he understands. “Not there?”

“N-no,” Totsuka manages, closing his eyes so he can concentrate on jacking himself off until Hashimoto hitches him up just that little bit more. “A-almost, it’s right…there, there, don’t move!”

Summarily ignoring Totsuka’s command, Hashimoto draws back enough to slam Totsuka against the wall a handful more times, ordering him just to come already in a low growl, and Totsuka comes entirely unraveled, a shaking weak-limbed mess as he clutches Hashimoto that much tighter and then goes slack.

Vaguely he feels Hashimoto come apart as well, but true to his word, Hashimoto does not drop him. When Totsuka can sort out sentience again, he’s being pressed just this side of too hard into the rough wall, Hashimoto’s weight firm on top of him, pinning him there (he hopes that Yamamoto doesn’t find them, because he’ll be hearing ‘Sweet Butterfly’ jokes until the end of time). His thighs are burning like he’s done a Dome con and he feels all a mess in several places, but he is not in fact on the ground.

“Ryosuke?” he asks.

“Told you,” Hashimoto replies, face buried in Totsuka’s shoulder, voice rough but proud. Totsuka manages to stroke Hashimoto’s hair a little because it’s in easy reach, sighing a little at the feel of the soft layers against his fingers.

“I don’t think I can stand,” Totsuka says shakily, and he’s right, at first, having to still hold tight to Hashimoto’s shoulders and grit his teeth against the burn of stretching his legs back out again, worse almost than pins and needles. Hashimoto teases about how Totsuka’s legs shake at first; Totsuka gets his revenge by forcing Hashimoto to put the tied-off condoms in his pocket. There’s nothing to be done about the mess on Totsuka’s stomach, so he tugs his T-shirt down and resigns himself to an itchy afternoon.

“Ne…” Hashimoto says abruptly as they’re finishing straightening themselves out. “Do I make it easy? Like Tsuka-chan said?”

Totsuka has to blink away the image of Hashimoto on his knees, perfectly willing to let Totsuka use him as roughly as he wants. Totsuka swallows. “It’s not easy, with you, no. Sometimes,” he amends quickly when Hashimoto looks downcast.

He shakes it off quickly enough, though. “But Tottsu isn’t jealous anymore?”

“No,” Totsuka answers, and it might sound more convincing if his brain weren’t conjuring up images of Hashimoto making it perfectly easy for Snowmen and THEY Budou and everyone else.

“Because,” Hashimoto sidles closer, “if you needed more convincing…”

“I’m not jealous!” Totsuka answers quickly, knees wobbling a little at even the thought of more convincing. “I just wish you wouldn’t let Sakuma-kun deco you in weird places.”

That gets a sweet laugh and a kiss on the cheek from Hashimoto, and Totsuka grabs him while he’s close and gives him a hug for once instead of the other way around, pulling Hashimoto in tight to his side.

“There’s a lot of me, ne,” Hashimoto tells Totsuka, surprising him. “Even if I give a bunch of it away, I won’t run out. Don’t worry so much.”

“Idiot, you aren’t a bottle of tea,” Totsuka answers, squeezing Hashimoto tighter for a second and getting squeezed in return. It makes him feel a little better when he has to let Hashimoto go eventually.

And on the other hand, it’s only for a second before Hashimoto grabs Totsuka’s hand and drags him off to interrupt Goseki and Tsukada’s naptime.

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