Kis-My-Ft2, Only Love (Don’t Lose It)

Title: Only Love (Don’t Lose It) [Yokoo/Nikaido, Yokoo/Nikaido/Senga/Kitayama]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, foursome
Summary: Yokoo wants Nikaido to only belong to him, but he’s afraid to make Nikaido choose between him and Kis-My-Ft2.
Notes: written for orangegreenlove for the 2011 Kis-My-Fic fic exchange. I hope you enjoy it! It certainly turned out way longer than I was planning. Title from the NEWS song “Labyrinth.”

Only Love (Don’t Lose It)

Yokoo’s almost done straightening up the living room to his liking, the last of the packing boxes already empty, when Nikaido finally gets there. He’s not that late, and it’s hardly unexpected since his afternoon had been spent out with Senga.

But that doesn’t mean Yokoo can’t have a little fun with him anyway.

“Yes?” he calls through the door.

“It’s me, let me in already,” Nikaido demands, and Yokoo can imagine it exactly, Nikaido hunched in his winter coat and grouchy from the cold.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,” Yokoo replies, getting a growl from Nikaido in return that Yokoo’d better be interested after all the subway exchanges he’s just made. Chuckling, Yokoo pulls the door open, but stands in the doorway for a moment longer to look Nikaido up and down, blocking his entrance. “And what if I’m not entirely satisfied with these goods after I’ve signed for them?”

“Watta!” Nikaido whines, glaring out from where his collar is pulled up as high as it will go. “It’s cold, let me in! God, you’d make the worst boyfriend ever.”

Yokoo crosses his arms and just waits.

“Fine, you’d be an awesome boyfriend,” Nikaido grumbles. He waits a second longer before rolling his eyes. “Please, Watta.”

“Ah, the magic word at last,” Yokoo says, stepping aside to let Nikaido rush past into the warmth of his apartment. He kisses Nikaido’s cheek on the way by, though, for the positive reinforcement and all. “Want the tour?”

“I helped you move in,” Nikaido points out as he toes off his sneakers, but he lines them up neatly next to Yokoo’s shoes and lets Yokoo show him whatever he wants.

He trails Yokoo about the apartment, the tour all the more hilarious for the small size of it, but Nikaido plays along, oohing and aahing cooperatively. It’s not until Yokoo reaches for the handle of the balcony’s sliding door that Nikaido puts his foot down.

“You’re crazy,” Nikaido scolds, giving a shiver even though it’s perfectly comfortable inside. “There’s only one thing I want to see right now and you know exactly what it is.”

Nikaido isn’t a hard guy to figure out, in Yokoo’s experience.

“Want to watch a movie?” Yokoo asks, watching Nikaido snuggle himself deeper into Yokoo’s bed with obvious glee. “I don’t have anything hooked up yet, but we can use my laptop.”

“Sure~,” Nikaido says, voice muffled by the blankets, plainly not caring at all so long as he can stay right where he is.

Yokoo can’t say he has much of an objection to that.

They make it through about half of Nino-senpai’s new thing before Yokoo’s casually roaming hands prove too much for Nikaido. He rolls over onto Yokoo with growl, getting a hand tight in Yokoo’s hair to pull him down for a kiss.

“Movie?” Yokoo reminds against Nikaido’s lips.

“Just hit pause,” Nikaido commands, sliding his mouth down to nip at Yokoo’s neck instead, making him tilt his neck back for more. “And I’d move that laptop too, if you’re worried about its safety.”

Yokoo is, and he does, and Nikaido’s shirt is already gone by the time he straightens up from tucking it mostly under the bed, just in case.

“Is this my housewarming gift?” Yokoo asks mildly, reaching over to run warm hands up Nikaido’s sides, making him stretch against the sheets. “Shouldn’t I get to unwrap it myself?”

“You’re too slow,” Nikaido brushes aside Yokoo’s complaint. He gets a fistful of Yokoo’s shirt and tugs. “Take care of yourself first.”

With all their clothing gone, Yokoo makes sure Nikaido doesn’t have any more air to complain. He presses Nikaido into the mattress with his weight and puts his yaiba to good use leaving a scatter of red marks across Nikaido’s throat. Nikaido arches against him, whining and looking for friction, but Yokoo has his wrists pinned firmly to the mattress next to his shoulders, and isn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

“Hmm, what should I do with you?” Yokoo pushes himself up to look Nikaido over, grinning at the obvious shiver that works its way down Nikaido’s body. “Now that I have you all to myself, nobody’s siblings on the other side of the wall…should I make you scream, Nika-chan?”

“You have neighbors,” Nikaido snaps, his blush creeping down from his neck, over his chest. Yokoo rocks his hips down, letting their cocks rub together, and can feel Nikaido twitch against him.

“Doesn’t seem like you mind them hearing,” Yokoo says, not minding himself even a single bit, not when Nikaido looks so good underneath him, mussed and dark-eyed and squirming. “Let me have you, hm?”

“We have practice tomorrow,” Nikaido protests, but it’s half-hearted at best. A soft groan sneaks out from between Nikaido’s clenched teeth when Yokoo leans down to flick his tongue against Nikaido’s earlobe.

“Please?” Yokoo sucks Nikaido’s earlobe into his mouth and grazes teeth over it; Nikaido shudders underneath him. “I’ll make it worth your while, you know I will. And it is your first night staying over and all.”

“All right, fine,” Nikaido says, quiet but not so quiet Yokoo can’t hear.

Yokoo rewards him with a deep, lingering kiss. He lets his weight settle onto Nikaido fully, giving Nikaido some of the friction he’s been after, and he keeps the kiss going until Nikaido’s making soft, desperate noises into his mouth.

“Okay, already.” Nikaido pushes Yokoo back by the shoulder. “Didn’t you want to fuck me? ‘Cause you’d better get to it, if that’s what you want.”

“Big talk,” Yokoo murmurs, amused by Nikaido’s complaints first that Yokoo wants to fuck him, and now that he’s not fucking him fast enough. “Especially coming from somebody who can’t get off without a hand on their dick.”

“Watta,” Nikaido growls, cheeks burning even brighter. Yokoo leans down to brush lips over one of them, humming at the heat of Nikaido’s skin. “Come on, please? I want you.”

Nikaido’s words make a wave of heat roll through Yokoo’s chest, but he’s not ready to give in to Nikaido’s squeaky wheel routine just yet. “Do you?”

Yes,” Nikaido says, exasperated. He squirms a little more when he realizes that Yokoo really is going to make him say it. “I definitely want you. So just have me!”

“You’re really cute when you’re irritated,” Yokoo informs him, and Nikaido growls in response. He stops complaining as soon as Yokoo slides down low enough suck on his cock as a distraction for his fingers opening Nikaido up.

They don’t do it this way often, since it takes a premium of time and preparation. Nikaido shifts uneasily at Yokoo’s first touches, but Yokoo is patient and slow, and it’s not exactly a hardship to keep Nikaido interested with his mouth. Eventually Nikaido relaxes into Yokoo’s touch, and it’s worth it when he starts to push down against Yokoo’s fingers and thrust up into his mouth.

“I notice you aren’t trying to rush this part,” Yokoo can’t help but comment, then hisses when Nikaido squeezes painfully tight around his fingers.

He offers Nikaido the choice of flipping over, if he wants it easier, but Nikaido shakes his head and stays on his back. He likes being able to see, Yokoo knows, likes being able to grab at him and yank him closer when he starts to lose it. Yokoo thinks it might be a control issue, but he likes looking down at Nikaido quite a bit himself, so he doesn’t have any objections.

“Aah,” Nikaido says, eyes squeezed shut and fingers digging into Yokoo’s biceps as Yokoo pushes his way inside. Yokoo reaches down to drag Nikaido’s hips a little higher, making the angle a little easier, but it’s still a few deep, ragged breaths before Nikaido’s grip loosens to less than painfully tight.

Not in a particular rush, Yokoo doesn’t mind taking as much time as Nikaido needs. Once he doesn’t have to hold on to Nikaido’s hips anymore, he settles on his elbows to kiss Nikaido while he works the rest of the way inside. At first Nikaido doesn’t respond, but then he lets go of Yokoo’s arms altogether and wraps his own arms around Yokoo’s neck instead, dragging him too close to move easily.

“Easy, easy,” Yokoo soothes, humming at the throb of Nikaido around his cock, Nikaido’s fluttering pulse under his lips. “Relax. You trust me, right?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Nikaido retorts, his voice catching. Yokoo’s not quite the whole way inside, but Nikaido’s too tense for him to go any further.

“It’ll feel really good in a couple minutes,” Yokoo promises, turning his head to kiss along Nikaido’s shoulders as well, tasting the salt of Nikaido’s skin. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know that,” Nikaido insists. Yokoo knows he does, but he also knows that saying it every time helps.

Repeating it doesn’t hurt either. “I’ll take care of you,” he says again, and again, and even as Nikaido groans protests, Yokoo can move that much more each time.

“Okay.” Nikaido takes one last, shuddering breath, and then pushes Yokoo back by the shoulders to show him he’s ready to go. “But practice tomorrow, remember.”

“I got it,” Yokoo promises. He leans down for one more kiss, sweet and unhurried, before bracing his weight on his arms so that he can fuck Nikaido properly after all of this.

By the time they get to this part, neither one of them can usually last very much longer, but Yokoo does his best to draw it out as long as he can, tonight. He goes slow and easy at first, until even Nikaido tells him to stop being such a fucking girl and give it to him harder. Yokoo does, the slap of their skin and the feel of Nikaido wrapped tight around him driving him higher and higher. Nikaido’s low noises turn into breathless whines and then into pleas of Yokoo’s name, but Yokoo still hangs on.

“What are you waiting for?” Nikaido demands, hair sticking up in sweaty bunches and skin flushed the whole way down.

“I said I’d make you scream,” Yokoo says. He’s been shifting his grip and his knees, trying for the perfect angle, and Nikaido no sooner opens his mouth to argue some more when Yokoo finally slams right into it. “There?”

“Fuck,” Nikaido gasps, tipping his head back, back arching. The rest of his words come out in a tangle, unclear whether he’s begging Yokoo to stop or not, but Yokoo for sure has no intention of stopping.

“Exactly like that,” Yokoo says, one hand tight on Nikaido’s hip to keep him in that spot and the other wrapping around Nikaido’s cock finally. “I want to hear you, don’t stop.”

Nikaido bites down on his lower lip, obviously trying to muffle his noises, but Yokoo knows exactly how fast and tight to jerk him off as he thrusts into him. It’s only a couple seconds later when Nikaido gives Yokoo exactly what he wants, coming with a wail that probably everybody on the block can hear.

It looks just as good as it sounds, and Yokoo shudders along with Nikaido. He’s right on the brink of orgasm himself but he wants to see the whole thing, hanging on until Nikaido goes limp under him and starts groaning for him to pull out, oversensitive. Yokoo usually ignores him, but tonight it seems like a better idea to obey, to pull out and fist himself the last couple strokes so that his come streaks over Nikaido’s stomach along with his own.

“You’re messed up,” Nikaido announces, voice rough. He’s already reaching for Yokoo, though, pulling him down to cling tightly. Nikaido’s like that after sex, can’t get close enough, even though in five or ten minutes he’ll be complaining about the mess.

Yokoo’s glad to oblige him, especially when it keeps the mess from rubbing off on his sheets. Then again, he thinks with a sudden grin, since he’ll be the one doing the laundry in his own washing machine, they can be just as messy as they want.

“You’re okay?” he asks eventually, when Nikaido’s shivers have faded away. They’re curled up on their sides, Nikaido’s back warm against Yokoo’s chest, and Yokoo wonders if Nikaido only loves him for his blankets sometimes. “I didn’t take it easy after all.”

“Mm.” Nikaido sounds halfway to sleep already. He tugs at Yokoo’s arm a little, pulling it tighter around him. “Fine. It’s worth it, with you. Maybe you’d be an okay boyfriend after all.”

Something squeezes tight in Yokoo’s chest, and after that it takes him a long time to fall asleep, feeling Nikaido’s breath rising and falling against him.


Nikaido still fools around with other people, Yokoo knows, but it’s never bothered him. They all have different claims on him, after all. He’s Senga’s best friend and rival, and the younger four all have a bond of shared experience and struggle that only a jyannis can understand properly. Fujigaya and Nikaido get off on riling each other up and shoving each other around, and as for Kitayama, there’s a certain amount of leader kink that goes around no matter how much Kitayama tries to argue that they’re just making that sort of shit up.

Yokoo’s always had a soft spot for Nikaido, the whole way back to the old Ya-Ya-yah show. As a youngest brother himself, he knows most of the tricks Nikaido uses to get his way, but he doesn’t mind indulging Nikaido in turn. Sometimes he pushes back just a little, just enough to let Nikaido know that Yokoo knows what he’s doing, but he likes thinking of himself as the responsible oniisan to Nikaido’s bratty otouto. He doesn’t mind doing the treating and the cleaning up if it earns him Nikaido’s trust, when it’s Yokoo that Nikaido sidles up to when he needs advice. Nikaido’s too grown up now to need him for much, but he still brings an occasional worry to Yokoo, and Yokoo is still glad to listen.

Maybe it’s the nature of their relationship that’s to blame, then, for Nikaido coming to him last of all. Yokoo had almost said no, when Nikaido had taken advantage of a shared trip to the hotel’s bath in Osaka. He’d shoved Yokoo against the wall and pressed close, pulling Yokoo down for a kiss before Yokoo could get any of the objections out.

“If I suck you off, you’ll do me too, right?” Nikaido had asked, but he hadn’t waited for an answer before dropping to his knees and pushing Yokoo’s towel out of the way. Yokoo can still picture it now if he thinks about it, how Nikaido had looked up at him the whole time as if to make sure Yokoo wasn’t going to make him stop, how Nikaido had let Yokoo’s cock slip out of his mouth to tell him it was fine if he pulled Nikaido’s hair a little.

He’d spent the night in Yokoo’s bed that night, and he’s spent quite a few more with Yokoo since then, but probably not so many more than he’s spent with Senga, or with Kitayama. Nikaido isn’t serious about any of them in particular; he’s serious about Kis-My-Ft2. It’s like that in groups like theirs after so long, Yokoo knows, but sometimes he finds himself wondering if Nikaido ever could be serious about him, just him.

He tries to brush thoughts like that away nearly as soon as he has them; they’re too dangerous to dwell on. To have Nikaido willing to come home with him, to let Yokoo do anything he wants with him, that’s good enough.

The way things are, they’re good enough.


Yokoo’s just coming out of the shower when Kitayama is going in. It’s a common enough occurrence, and Yokoo’s not sure what makes him do it, but he glances over his shoulder to see Kitayama sauntering into an occupied stall, despite the stall that Yokoo has just vacated.

It’s Nikaido’s shower stall. Yokoo hears Nikaido’s “Eh?!” of surprise and Kitayama’s low chuckle, and then forces himself to turn and finish leaving. Not like he’s never seen that before, after all.

Yokoo tries to shake it off, but for some reason, today, he can’t quite seem to. It’s puzzling, he thinks as he sits on the bench and towels off his hair, and he’s still thinking about it while the others straggle out of the showers in ones and twos to redress and borrow each other’s stuff. Kitayama’s second to last, Yokoo staring down at the damp towel in his hands as Kitayama strolls by.

Nikaido sneaks out last of all, nobody but Yokoo paying any attention enough to note Nikaido’s still-flushed chest and the way his gaze strays to where Kitayama is lazily breaking up a squabble between Tamamori and Fujigaya over the flatiron.

“Something up?” Nikaido asks, apparently noticing Yokoo’s attention well enough.

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head like he’s still trying to shake off the whole thing, and then covers his head with the towel and goes back to rubbing it roughly over his hair.

“Hey.” Yokoo feels a light touch against his hands and goes still. The towel is tugged back, and Yokoo finds Nikaido looking down at him in mild puzzlement. “Not so rough, you’ll give yourself split ends.”

Nikaido brushes Yokoo’s hands aside and starts rubbing the towel over his hair more gently. Yokoo lets his hands fall in his lap and lets him have his way until Senga calls for Nikaido to hurry up already, if he’s really coming over.

“Geez, okay, okay,” Nikaido calls back, rolling his eyes at Yokoo. “You hurry up too, you’re slow. Ne, Watta, want to go out tomorrow?”

Yokoo’s mouth is already saying yes before brain has caught up with it, giving Nikaido his way second nature by now. Nikaido grins, well-pleased, and gives Yokoo’s hair a last tug before turning to yank on his clothes and catch up to Senga, leaving Yokoo still sitting on the bench.

He files the grin away in his heart and shoves the rest of the stuff firmly away. You can’t hold on to everything, he scolds himself, and then he turns his attention to finding his pants.


He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it makes Yokoo’s grip on his water bottle tighten when he can hear Fujigaya and Nikaido bicker-flirting behind him, Fujigaya calling Nikaido a pillow queen and Nikaido retorting that it’s just that Fujigaya is obviously meant to be on his knees.

During the photoshoot itself, Senga and Nikaido are grabby with each other as usual, the one pair that the photographers never have to tell to get closer or look more like they are into each other. This time they aren’t even paired for the shoot, but it doesn’t stop them from poking and slapping at each other like grade-schoolers.

“All right, all right,” the photographer says, giving up on Fujigaya and Kitayama at last, and Yokoo wonders if they managed to get even one shot where Fujigaya’s face didn’t say exactly what he thought about feeding Kitayama spoonfuls of parfait. “Yokoo-kun and Senga-kun, please! You two will be frosting cookies together.”

“I’ll frost his cookies,” Fujigaya grumbles as he slinks by, making Senga burst into giggles. He’s still giggling ten minutes later, making his cookie-decorating technique a little shaky, and Yokoo elbows him when the photographer asks if they intend to be difficult as well.

“No~,” both of them chorus. Yokoo shoves a bite of cookie into Senga’s mouth to shut him up, and the photographer occupies himself snapping shots when Senga’s eyes scrunch up in pleasure.

“Hey, Nika-chan,” Yokoo hears Tamamori say off to the side. The last three are standing in a bunch, waiting for their turn. They’re talking quietly, but Yokoo’s hearing is good, and they’re not standing that far away from him. “You’ll come out with us, yeah?”

“Hmm,” Nikaido says. Yokoo knows that tone; it’s the tone that says Nikaido’s waiting for them to give him a reason to be interested.

“We’re trying a different type of room,” Miyata puts in. “Since we’ll have a little more time than usual. You had fun last time, you know you did.”

Yokoo chances a glance to the side, notices the casual way Miyata’s resting his chin on Tamamori’s shoulder, the way both of them are eyeing Nikaido, and it’s clear that they like what they see. It’s a struggle to pull his attention back.

“Oops,” Senga says. “Watta, you broke your cookie.”

“Here, have it,” Yokoo offers, picking up one of the pieces to push it into Senga’s mouth. He’s momentarily distracted by how cute Senga’s pleased little noises are, thinking it’s a shame the camera can’t pick up that kind of stuff, because fangirls would totally go nuts for it.

Then he thinks about Senga making those same sorts of noises underneath Nikaido, and suddenly they’re a lot less cute.

“Uwah,” Fujigaya says later on, interrupting Yokoo’s thoughts. “Watta’s face is scary. What’s that about?”

“It’s nothing,” Yokoo says quickly, smoothing out his expression, but Fujigaya isn’t fooled. He puts his hands on his waist and eyes Yokoo critically.

Behind them, Nikaido and Miyata burst into suddenly laughter, setting Yokoo’s teeth on edge.

“Aha,” Fujigaya hums, glancing over Yokoo’s shoulder and then back to his face. “So how are things with Nika-chan?”

“They’re fine.” Yokoo busies himself with his bag, rifling through his usual pharmacy for something or other. “Nothing new to report.”

“Except the part where you don’t want to share him anymore?” Fujigaya raises an eyebrow.

Yokoo swallows a wince; it sounds even worse when Fujigaya says it than it does in his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Mmhmm.” Fujigaya taps his chin. “So you don’t mind if have him over tonight? It’s been a little while since I’ve seen his cute sleeping face, when he’s really tired out properly, you know? And he makes such cute little noises when you hold him down, ne.”

“Get in line, Tama and Miyacchi already asked him out,” Yokoo says keeping his eyes firmly down, but he can’t help the way his voice is tight and sharp. He gives up on the pretense of the bag and raises his eyes to find Fujigaya eyeing him with mild exasperation.

“Come on, give me a little credit,” Fujigaya tsks. “You definitely can’t fool me, Watta. Why don’t you just tell him?”

“No,” Yokoo gives a mirthless laugh, “I don’t think I will be doing that. Drop it, Taipi.”

“He likes you,” Fujigaya insists. “He might say yes.”

“He likes all of us,” Yokoo replies. “It’s…we’re not like that. I’m not sure we can be like that.”

“Won’t know if you don’t try,” is Fujigaya’s advice. Yokoo just grunts a little in reply because he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

He knows that Fujigaya means well, but today Fujigaya’s meddling just gets under Yokoo’s skin, exacerbating his annoyance from earlier in the day. He tries to swallow it, but it keeps creeping up his throat until finally at the end of the day, when Nikaido happens to wander by, Yokoo reaches out and grabs his arm without thinking.

“Eh?” Nikaido asks, stumbling to stop. “Watta?”

“Come home with me tonight,” he blurts. Nikaido looks up at him, puzzled, blinking slowly, and Yokoo thinks about taking it back but doesn’t. Nikaido doesn’t know that Yokoo knows about Miyata and Tamamori’s offer, after all, and Yokoo wonders if he’ll explain why after he says no.

“Okay,” Nikaido says.

It’s Yokoo’s turn to blink. “What?”

“Okay, I said.” Nikaido shrugs. “Lemme grab my bag. We’ll get dinner, right?”

“Yeah, sure, yeah,” Yokoo rambles a little, mouth on auto-pilot, not sure what either one of them is doing really. “Should we, um, ask if anybody else wants to go? Like Miyacchi, or Tama, or, you know, anybody.”

Nikaido shoots Yokoo another curious look; then he shakes his head. “Just Watta’s good.”

“Just Watta’s good,” Yokoo repeats under his breath as he watches Nikaido walk away. He wonders if Nikaido has any idea at all what he’s doing to him.


“What’s it like?” Yokoo asks, propping himself up on one elbow to see Nikaido’s face properly. “With them.”

Nikaido turns a little more towards Yokoo, the sheet slipping down even lower on his hip, hiding pretty much nothing. His brow is furrowed a little bit, eyes cautious. “You really want to know?”

Yokoo nods.

“Well…” Nikaido pauses, giving Yokoo another second to back out before giving a little shrug with one shoulder. “Kitamitsu usually makes me do all the work. Kenpi and Taipi like to ride on top, and Tamamori’ll let you do whatever you want to him so long as Miyata’s there too.”

“Oh?” Yokoo raises an eyebrow. “Both at once, huh?”

Nikaido chuckles darkly. “With those two, it’s almost good enough just to watch, sometimes. Even when you join in, it’s kind of like you’re a toy they’re using on each other.”

“I see.” It’s not hard to picture, Nikaido pressed between Miyata and Tamamori, arching and shivering against their hands and mouths, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open on a moan. He wonders if it’s like everything else, Tamamori ordering Miyata around, telling him what to do to Nikaido, Miyata talking the whole time about how good and sweet and hot and…

“You haven’t ever?” Nikaido asks, sounding honestly curious. Yokoo shakes his head, both in answer to the question and to try and clear his head of the images.

“A little, at the beginning,” he says. “The timing never seems to be right, exactly.”

Before them, there’d been a little of that in KKKity, and then after they’d got their letters, he’d fooled around with Iida still, and Fujigaya and Kitayama a little. None of them were willing to get too serious, not knowing how long things would last, and maybe Yokoo had been just a touch heartbroken anyway. Iida’d left him, Fujigaya was always busy with his senpai, and when Yokoo spends time with Kitayama it’s more often than not as Kisumai’s big brothers and choreographers and concert planners. Even when Ft2 grew up, none of them had come after him like Nikaido had.

“Not even outside the group?” Nikaido wants to know, and Yokoo shakes his head again. He’s never had a desire for that. “Watta’s loyal, ne. I really like that about you. But it’s a shame, because shouldn’t you get just as much attention from everybody? Plus, they’re missing out.”

Yokoo digests that a moment, and then another thought occurs to him. “Wait a second.” He goes back through the list of what the other members like in his head. “Are you…only bottoming with me?”

“Mostly.” Nikaido glances away, trying to avoid Yokoo’s gaze suddenly. “Kenpi and I switch sometimes, but we do other stuff more often than we do that. Once in a while, Kitamitsu wants to switch, but…”

“But?” Yokoo prompts when Nikaido trails off.

A pink strip appears over Nikaido’s nose as he drags his gaze back up to meet Yokoo’s. “But I won’t, sometimes. He doesn’t take care like you do.”

Then quit doing it already, Yokoo wants to say. He swallows the words, but it’s hard. Instead he lifts a hand to stroke through Nikaido’s hair, making Nikaido’s eyes flutter nearly shut at the brush of Yokoo’s fingertips against his scalp.

“Hey, Watta,” Nikaido asks after a few moments, “are you jealous?”

Yokoo hesitates. He doesn’t want to say yes and he doesn’t want to lie. Nikaido opens his eyes when Yokoo doesn’t answer right away, and they say that he already knows the answer.

“You want me to stop being with other people, huh?” he asks, and then before Yokoo can even start to figure out how to answer, adds, “You like me that much?”

“I…I don’t know.” Yokoo looks away, sighs, and looks back again, meeting Nikaido’s eyes for a long moment. Warmth works its way over his skin, not the hot rush from sex, but a slower, steadier glow of just being close. “Yes, maybe. Yes. I was trying not to think about it.”

“You thought I’d say no,” Nikaido says, like he’s figuring out something he’s been thinking about. “So you didn’t want to ask.”

“I don’t want to ask you for something you don’t want,” Yokoo says, the words quiet and heavy in his mouth. “I don’t want to ask you who’s the most important.”

“Kisumai,” Nikaido answers immediately. “But you can still ask.”

“Nika…” Yokoo starts.

Ask me.”

Yokoo takes a deep, shaky breath. “Be just mine. Don’t let anybody else have you.”

Nikaido nods, once, expression serious. “Okay, Watta. Let’s try.”

Past words, Yokoo crushes Nikaido close, like if he pulls him tight enough against him and doesn’t let go it won’t be a problem anymore anyway. Nikaido brings arms up to come around Yokoo’s neck and holds on just as tightly.


Nikaido can be really serious about something if he wants to, and in the next couple weeks, Yokoo is surprised to see just how serious about him Nikaido is willing to be. He doesn’t know what Nikaido told the others, but even though he’s trying not to pry, he can’t help but notice the usual teasing ratchets up a few notches, especially from Fujigaya and Tamamori.

Senga is the most awkward at first, pausing mid-touch when he keeps finding himself touching Nikaido out of habit, and finally Yokoo takes pity on him and says that he can hug Nikaido all he wants, really. Senga lights up like the sun and Nikaido scoffs but relief is easily readable in his eyes, and Yokoo would give a lot more leeway for a lot less.

There are some other…Yokoo wouldn’t call them problems exactly. Side effects, perhaps.

“Again?” he asks when Nikaido pushes him against the wall next to the vending machines, mouth already hot and wet against Yokoo’s throat.

“You know I was having sex with six people before, right?” Nikaido growls, rolling his hips into Yokoo’s. “You shouldn’t have said you wanted their spots if you couldn’t handle it.”

“I can handle anything you’ve got, brat,” Yokoo fires back, grabbing at his wrists, and Nikaido’s eyes go so dark when Yokoo takes control like that, that Yokoo drags him into the nearest empty practice room and makes them mortifyingly late back to practice.

Nikaido can definitely go more rounds than Yokoo can, he has to admit, but then again, jyannis are resourceful guys. There’s always blowjobs.

Still, though, there are some things Yokoo can’t help but notice. Like the way that Nikaido’s eyes follow every swing of Kitayama’s hips when he’s practicing his solo. Like the way Nikaido turns his head like a radar whenever Senga’s laugh rings out from the other side of the room, or lays his head cutely on Senga’s shoulder when he wants Senga to do his makeup too. Like the way he snaps that Fujigaya spends too much time with people outside of their group, or takes a little longer to say no each time Tamamori and Miyata ask him to play. He gets on his game face faster than most each time, but Yokoo knows what he’s looking for underneath it.

Kis-My-Ft2 really is the most important to Nikaido, Yokoo is realizing. It isn’t that Nikaido can’t stay faithful to him, he understands now. It’s that it isn’t fair to ask him to, not when he loves all of them, like that. Yokoo can’t stand to be so greedy when he has to watch what it costs Nikaido day in and day out like that.

“Let’s stop this, okay?” he says, pulling Nikaido aside at the end of a practice. Nikaido looks stunned, like he’s been slapped, and Yokoo regrets that it probably seems sudden to him, when he’s been thinking about it practically since they started.

Nikaido’s confusion turns to anger pretty fast. “Watta! I haven’t—”

“I know,” Yokoo cuts him off. That isn’t it at all. “What you’re doing for me, I can’t ask you for it. You aren’t happy, right?”

“I can do it,” Nikaido says stubbornly, not answering the question. “I like you.”

“I’m really glad for that,” Yokoo assures, meeting Nikaido’s angry glare straight on, trying to show him how true it is. “But I like you enough to want your happiness more.”

“You’re being retarded,” Nikaido hisses, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he can’t decide what to do with them.

“That’s okay.” Yokoo gives Nikaido a last apologetic smile, then turns to pack up his bag. He ignores all of Nikaido’s attempts to re-engage the conversation until Nikaido stomps off in a huff. Closing his eyes, Yokoo takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He takes a couple more when he hears Nikaido grouchily demanding that Senga let him sleep over and then demanding to know what Kitayama’s weekend plans are.

He tells himself things will go back to normal eventually, that the sting of it will fade once Nikaido settles back into his usual rotation. Even if Yokoo doesn’t get his spot back, maybe that’s for the best after all.


“Come with me.”

Yokoo looks up from his bento to find Nikaido with one hand on his hip, the other held out impatiently. His mouth is pressed into a thin line. “Nika…”

“Shut up,” Nikaido interrupts. “I’ve listened to you quite enough, thanks. Now get up and let’s go.”

He grabs Yokoo’s hand and yanks him along without waiting for an answer, and Yokoo follows him meekly out of the break room and down the hall a little, to the door of another break room. Nikaido pauses there, his hand on the doorknob, before he looks over his shoulder at Yokoo.

“Just watch, all right?” he says, and Yokoo has a sinking feeling about what he’ll see on the other side of the door. He tries to protest, to pull his hand free, but Nikaido tightens his grip and shushes him again. “Just shut up, I said. Don’t say anything, just come in here and watch and don’t say a fucking word. You owe me at least that.”

“Okay.” Yokoo just gives in, feeling like he deserves the sting of Nikaido’s words and a lot more. “All right.”

Nikaido pushes the door open and pulls Yokoo inside quickly before shutting it quietly behind them. The room is smaller than their break room, but there’s still a couch, which is currently occupied by Kitayama, sprawled on his back, Senga straddling his lap and pushing himself up and down. He’s making soft, cute noises that Yokoo can just barely hear over the slap of their skin, eyes closed and head thrown back. Neither one of them pays the slightest bit of attention to Yokoo and Nikaido, or even seems to notice they’ve come in.

Reaching down to flip the lock on the door, Nikaido gives Yokoo one last look which plainly says keep your fucking mouth shut, and heads over to the couch, stripping off his clothing on the way. Yokoo presses his back against the door and watches as ordered. Nikaido just watches too for a few moments, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jeans, before he pushes them down and steps out of them.

“Aaaah,” Senga gasps when Nikaido crawls on top of Kitayama and slides in against Senga’s back, fitting in close against him. “What took so long, Nika?”

“Had to get something.” Nikaido bends his head to lick at the curve of Senga’s neck, and Yokoo helplessly tracks the slide of his hands down Senga’s sides. “Seems like Kitamitsu kept you occupied.”

“Don’t distract him,” Kitayama orders lazily. Yokoo can’t see his face clearly from his angle, but he can see the way Kitayama’s hands are curled over Senga’s thighs, and shivers thinking of the strength of his grip. “He’s busy.”

“You’re such a lazy bastard,” Nikaido says, one hand trailing low on Senga’s stomach, making him whine. “Want something, Kenpi?”

“Touch me,” Senga asks immediately, no hesitation or embarrassment, “please, Nika,” and he makes such a noise when Nikaido does it that both Nikaido and Kitayama shush him.

Nikaido glances over his shoulder to make sure Yokoo is watching, and Yokoo swallows hard. His skin feels tight and hot, his cock hardening in sympathy as Nikaido jerks Senga off with long, slow strokes. He presses his hands flat against the door to keep from giving in to the urge to touch himself, but it only gets worse when Nikaido starts talking again.

“You gonna come already?” he asks, getting only a moan of his name from Senga. “You’re so easy for it. Does Mitsu’s dick feel that good?”

“Really good,” Senga pants, voice shaking. “Faster, Nika, please?”

“If you could learn to last longer than him, I’d get to fuck you too, you know,” Nikaido purrs, speeding up just enough to make Senga fuck up into his fist at the top of his push up from Kitayama’s cock. “I could fuck you anyway, though, I suppose. You’ll already be all slick and stretched for me, so sensitive.”

“Mitsuuu,” Senga wails breathlessly. “Make him…stop teasing!”

“Why?” Kitayama asks, and really, Yokoo thinks, only Senga would expect different. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“You’re asking the wrong people,” Nikaido informs Senga, then turns to look over his shoulder again, and Yokoo shivers at the dark of his eyes. “You wanna help out, Watta? Or just keep watching?”

“Eh?!” Senga whips his head around, hips stilling on top of Kitayama. “Watta?” And then, to Yokoo’s surprise, a grin breaks out over Senga’s face. “Are you gonna play too?”

“I’m…not sure,” Yokoo answers honestly. He looks to Nikaido. “Am I?”

“What the fuck are you asking him for?” Kitayama demands, getting up on his elbows enough to glare. “You, get over here if you’re coming, you, go back to fucking me, and you,” Kitayama leans around to give Nikaido the beady eye as well, “work out your fucking drama and leave me out of it. Fucking idiots.”

Yokoo takes a couple steps away from the door, and then a couple more, until he’s standing right next to Senga and Nikaido. Senga’s rocking up and down on Kitayama again, enough to shut him up for the moment, but he’s looking up at Yokoo hopefully, shooting an occasional glance to the side at Nikaido. Now that Yokoo’s close, Nikaido’s not really looking him in the eye, more like around his shoulder.

“You’re gonna make up, right?” Senga wants to know. “Come on, Nika, say sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs to say that,” Nikaido growls.

“I really don’t see how watching you with two other people fixes anything,” Yokoo points out gently.

“Idiot.” When Nikaido finally does lift his eyes, they’re flashing with irritation. “You don’t get anything, do you? I’m not fooling around with two other people, we are.” He huffs when Yokoo doesn’t answer right away. “Can’t we just compromise? Isn’t it all right if you’re here too? It’s not like I can pick Kisumai or you, you are Kisumai. I can’t help it if I want all of them, but I could wait until you were with me. Isn’t that enough?”

“Nika,” Yokoo breathes, and then his voice sticks after that, so he gets both hands in Nikaido’s hair and tilts his head back to seize Nikaido’s mouth in a fierce kiss. It’s possessive and maybe a little bit desperate, but he only clings more tightly when Nikaido half-turns to wrap arms around Yokoo’s waist. When he thinks he might get some words out, he pulls back enough to say, “Let’s try again, then, if it’s okay.”

“You’re so stupid,” Nikaido tells him, eyes watery, and Yokoo kisses him again, and again, enough times that he forgets what they’re even doing there.

“Okay, okay,” Senga interrupts, “that’s hot and everything, but…”

“But what?” Nikaido demands, arms still tight around Yokoo’s waist. Senga leans back to bump into him, threatening their balance on top of Kitayama.

“But share!” Senga demands, and Yokoo can only laugh when Nikaido’s face says he does not really want to do that. “You’ll kiss me too, right, Watta? You’re the last one I haven’t kissed, you know.”

“Right?” Nikaido agrees, making Yokoo laugh harder. “He’s so slow! But he won’t kiss you like that, though. That’s mine.”

“You do understand,” Yokoo manages in between snickers, “that if I’m sharing you with people, you’ll have to share me with them too?”

” I know that,” Nikaido grumbles, but Yokoo notices his grip is not loosening one iota. “Obviously. But you can only kiss me like that.”

“Like what?” Yokoo asks, amused and fond.

Nikaido rolls his eyes, as if Yokoo’s the idiot here. “Like you want me the most. So kiss him some other way.”

“You know this lunch break is only a half an hour long, right?” Kitayama snaps at them from the bottom of the pile. “I just thought I could possibly get off before the next ice age!”

“I do want you the most. Obviously.” Yokoo imitates Nikaido’s grouchy tone, giving him one last quick kiss before turning to Senga. Senga’s face is tilted up towards him, curious and cheerful. “Ready, Ken-chan?”

“Definitely,” Senga answers, delight breaking over his features at the prospect of completing his collection. His kiss is entirely different, light and letting Yokoo have all the control, humming happily when Yokoo takes what he’s offering, and gasping into Yokoo’s mouth when a thrust from Kitayama pushes him up against Yokoo.

When the kiss breaks, Senga’s cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, and maybe Yokoo’s a touch sorry that he didn’t get to Senga much earlier. Then he cries out and starts rocking down on Kitayama more seriously, and a glance down reveals Nikaido’s hand wrapped around Senga’s cock again squeezing him tightly.

“Wait,” Senga gasps, “wait, wait!”

“Not on your fucking life,” Kitayama groans, and then he spits a string of curses when Nikaido suddenly pushes Senga up, off of his cock.

“Gimme your hand, I need the extra fingers,” Nikaido orders, urgent, grabbing Yokoo’s hand at the same time as he’s pushing Senga forward. Yokoo gives a low moan as Nikaido slides two of Yokoo’s fingers inside of Senga. Senga is moaning and shaking against their hands, and underneath him Kitayama is struggling but can’t get out from under Senga and Nikaido’s weight. Nikaido gets his hand back on Senga’s cock and strokes him hard and fast, and finally Senga throws his head back and spends himself on Kitayama’s face.

There’s a moment of silence punctuated only by everybody breathing hard, the three of them staring at the drips of white splashed across Kitayama’s nose and cheeks, up into his hair.

“Get off of me,” Kitayama says very quietly, “so I can fucking kill you.”

“Don’t, don’t!” Senga protests, breaking into endorphin-induced giggles. He collapses onto Kitayama’s chest to hold him there while he keeps on laughing. On Kitayama’s thighs, Nikaido is laughing as well, although it’s more at Kitayama’s expense than anything else.

“YOU,” Kitayama snarls, struggling and getting nowhere, so the best he can do is to glare over Senga’s permed head, “are so getting fucked!”

“Ooh!” Senga exclaims, like he’s just had a great idea. “Let’s switch,” he suggests. He twists to see Nikaido. “Can I ride Watta? That’s okay, right?”

“I swear to fucking god,” Kitayama exclaims in exasperation, “as soon as I get him off me, I am plowing your ass, so you better get yourself ready pretty fucking quick!”

Nikaido doesn’t answer right away, looking up at Yokoo. “Is it okay?”

Yokoo takes a deep breath and tests the thought out, and he thinks that it might be. “It’s a good thing I’m here to take care of you, I guess.” The grin Nikaido gives him in return is happy and relieved, and Yokoo lets Nikaido pull him down to sneak in one more kiss before he gets up on his knees and turns to rest his arms on the back of the couch, giving Yokoo room to work.

Like always, Nikaido jumps a little at the first touch of Yokoo’s fingers, still slick from being inside Senga. He rubs his fingertips gently across Nikaido’s hole while he tries to hunt down the lube with his other hand. Thankfully, Senga is keeping Kitayama momentarily occupied by kissing him hungrily, and finally Yokoo’s hand brushes against the tube, wedged down between the cushions.

Yokoo’s two fingers deep and working in a third by the time Kitayama manages to dislodge Senga enough to sit up, demanding to know if Nikaido’s ready to go or what.

“If you’ve got it, I can take it,” Nikaido snaps back, and Yokoo rolls his eyes, because there’s no saving the idiot from himself after all. Yokoo twists his fingers, making Nikaido yelp and arch his back. He bites down on a moan when Yokoo pulls his fingers out entirely, and suddenly Yokoo realizes that he still has all his clothes on and one of his hands is covered in lube.

“I’ll help,” Senga laughs, climbing off Kitayama and reaching for the button of Yokoo’s jeans. “You can kick these off, and we’ll just unbutton your shirt. So long as I can get at your skin, it’s fine~.”

“Is it really okay?” Yokoo asks as Senga shoves him down on the couch. Beside him, Kitayama is settling in a similar position, already pulling Nikaido down onto him, and Nikaido sinks down with a long hiss. Yokoo turns his attention back to where Senga is climbing up into his lap. “Since you already came?”

“He’s fine,” Kitayama and Nikaido chorus.

“I like it,” Senga assures. “I want everybody else to feel good like I do. Hold yourself up, okay? Hey, Nika, want to race?”

“No,” Nikaido says through gritted teeth.

“Because you know you’ll lose~.”

“Can’t you just fuck him already?” Nikaido demands. “Dammit, Mitsu, move!”

Yokoo misses the next couple exchanges of their argument because Senga is sliding down on him, sweet and tight and hot, and all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears as his eyes flutter nearly closed. When he gets them open again, Senga is grinning down at him. “Good, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Yokoo agrees. Turning his head to the side, he reaches up to pry Nikaido’s closest hand off the back of the couch and laces their fingers together, so that Nikaido’s pressing the back of Yokoo’s hand into the couch. Nikaido’s eyes are closed, concentrating on letting Kitayama in still, but he squeezes Yokoo’s fingers, and Yokoo squeezes back.

He’s been turned on so long already that it’s a challenge not to give in to Senga right away. Senga rides Yokoo’s cock as easily as if it were part of his accent dance, the strength of his thighs from practicing this move on stage lifting him up and down without even the help of the one hand Yokoo’s got free.

“Mm, you’re long,” Senga comments, lacing his fingers behind Yokoo’s neck for leverage and leaning back, changing the angle a bit. “No wonder Nika likes you. His spot’s pretty far back.”

“Which might explain your problem,” Nikaido informs Kitayama, voice rough. He doesn’t have the thigh strength of Senga, and he’s already panting from the exertion of pushing himself up over and over.

“It’s really your problem, since I don’t give half a damn whether you get off or not,” Kitayama replies, and as if to prove his point, he leans his head back and comes with a long groan, thrusting up deep enough into Nikaido to make him grunt and squeeze Yokoo’s hand even tighter. “See?”

“Mm, we can help finish you off,” Senga offers, licking his lips, and that’s all Yokoo needs to send him over the edge. Senga works him through it with muscles that no normal person should have control of, and when Yokoo manages to peel his eyes back open, Senga is beaming down at him proudly. “You want to suck him off together? Or I can just watch. Or you can watch me. Or—”

“Stop, stop,” Yokoo groans, on overload and still shuddering with aftershocks. “Fuck, I can’t make choices like that, ask him what he wants.”

“I want both of you,” Nikaido pipes up, “but hurry the fuck up.”

They push Nikaido up so that he’s sitting on the back of the couch, the weight of the other three keeping it from tipping over backwards. Senga leans in from one side and Yokoo the other, both of them licking at his tip in between kisses, his cock caught between their mouths. Nikaido gets one hand in each of their hair so that he can tug them more on point when they get distracted.

Yokoo feels fuzzy all around the edges still, so he gets distracted by everything: Senga’s mouth warm and slick under his, the taste of salt on Nikaido’s tip, how soft the skin of Nikaido’s inner thigh is. He doesn’t mind the tugs to his hair, though, and judging by the string of little noises he’s making, Senga doesn’t seem to mind either.

“Gonna,” Nikaido finally warns.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kitayama growls from where he’s draped over the arm of the couch.

Yokoo’s got it covered, though. He leans up to swallow Nikaido and lets Senga fist him the rest of the way, echoing Nikaido’s cry more softly when the first burst of salt hits his tongue. He keeps sucking until Nikaido pushes him off, and then Yokoo gives a muffled noise of surprise when Senga presses his mouth to Yokoo’s as soon as he’s lifted his head, sharing Nika’s taste between the two of them.

Nikaido slides down off the back of the couch in between them, a shaking, incoherent mess, and Yokoo and Senga hug him tightly from either side until his heart slows.

“You won’t change your mind, right?” Nikaido asks quietly, head resting on Yokoo’s shoulder. Yokoo squeezes him a little more tightly and says no, he’s pretty sure he’s got it right this time.

Break is almost over by then. They try to clean up in the bathroom, but they are hardly back together by the time they slink into afternoon practice. Nikaido and Senga are particular messes, Senga’s perm destroyed beyond all recognition, and Nikaido only managing to hide his limp if he takes steps which are about a third as long as usual.

“And just what in the hell is this?” Yara demands, crossing his arms and blocking their path, while the Snowmen peer from behind him in various levels of amusement and understanding. Nikaido glares; Senga waves.

“Whew,” Yokoo hears Tamamori murmur to Miyata, and when he looks, Tamamori is a little ruffled himself. “Saaaaaafe.”

“Don’t feel too smug, you’re next,” he informs the pair of them, then saunters off to stretch, leaving both of them blinking after him with wide eyes.


Despite the wealth of combinations now open to them, sometimes a quiet night at home alone is still best.

“We’re never going to finish watching that movie,” Yokoo murmurs against Nikaido’s mouth as he pushes him down into mattress. Nikaido laughs and wraps arms around Yokoo’s neck to keep him right where he is, laptop bedamned.

Much later, Yokoo wakes up in the middle of the night with Nikaido snug against his back, working a knee in between Yokoo’s thighs.

“Ne,” Nikaido says, his palm dragging a warm trail down Yokoo’s chest, “can I have you?”

“Idiot.” Yokoo lets his eyes fall shut, stretching in Nikaido’s arms and humming at the feel of Nikaido all along his skin. He tugs Nikaido’s arm tighter around him. “You already do.”

4 people like this post.


  • By ri, 2012.08.29 @ 7:32 pm

    mitsu gets it in the face and that makes this a WINNER. 😀

  • By yeska_noka, 2017.09.19 @ 6:55 am

    Still one of my favorite fics ever. I’ll keep coming back to this one forever, I’m sure. <3

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