Kis-My-Ft2, Properly Socialized

Title: Properly Socialized [Yokoo/Nikaido, Nikaido/Senga, Yokoo/Nikaido/Senga/Kitayama]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. foursome, biting/blood (it’s vampires, so)
Summary: Kitayama’s new pet fascinates Nikaido a little more than either Kitayama or Yokoo anticipated.
AN: Written for 2011 JE Holiday exchange. For orangegreenlove, happy holidays! I know you like AUs, so I smashed up a couple of your pairings into a Vampire AU, and I hope you enjoy it.

Properly Socialized

“I have a surprise,” Yokoo says as soon as he lands on the balcony, but Nikaido doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear anything, just wants Yokoo inside, his hands already fisted in the silk of Yokoo’s shirt, pressed as close as he can get, head tilted in obvious invitation.

He’s been alone all day, so bored, and now he doesn’t care about surprises or anything else, the only thing he cares about is being as close to his master as possible.

“You don’t want it?” Yokoo asks, voice mild. He’s perfectly still, as only vampires can be, unmoving no matter how hard Nikaido pulls. Nikaido whines; he wants all right, but what he wants is Yokoo. “Takashi.”

Just the one word stills Nikaido’s hands, but it doesn’t stop his need. He lets the desperation pool in his eyes instead as he looks up at Yokoo, begging silently. Giving a little sigh, Yokoo bends his head enough to press their lips together. It isn’t exactly what Nikaido wants, but it’s something, his skin prickling at the way Yokoo dominates his mouth casually, and Nikaido drinks in the small trickle of power it provides greedily.

“So impatient,” Yokoo breathes into the kiss, not quite scolding. “My little pet, so demanding. Shall I have you, then?”

Please,” Nikaido all but sobs, and then his head spins as Yokoo scoops him up effortlessly and dumps him on the bed across the room barely a heartbeat later. He has Nikaido’s clothes off with the same amount of supernatural speed, leaving Nikaido spread out in front of him like a perfectly laid-out meal.

That’s what he is, after all. Nikaido whines another plea, wanting only to be devoured.

“But I can’t have you too tired out,” Yokoo warns, climbing on top of Nikaido, knees on either side of Nikaido’s thighs to pin him down, hands pressing Nikaido’s wrists into the sheets. “For the surprise.”

“Anything,” Nikaido agrees, barely aware of what he’s agreeing to. He arches up against Yokoo, whines at the fabric blocking Yokoo’s smooth, cool skin from his own. “Yokoo-sama…”

Nikaido cries out when Yokoo wraps a hand around his already-hard cock and starts to stroke. He leans down to Nikaido’s neck and Nikaido tenses in anticipation of the bite, but all Yokoo does is lick and suck at the skin until Nikaido is shivering with need, thrusting up into Yokoo’s hand.

“Takashi, come for me,” Yokoo orders, and Nikaido does, spilling over Yokoo’s hand and his own stomach in a hot rush. A second later he feels Yokoo’s fangs pierce his skin, finally, making him shudder as if still coming, losing all his senses to the hot rush of euphoria.

Yokoo pulls back after only a few seconds, though, and when Nikaido peels his eyes back open, Yokoo is licking the last of Nikaido’s blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Endorphins, mmm,” Yokoo purrs. Nikaido just blinks up at him, hazy, and with no idea what he’s talking about. “Ready to listen now?”

Nikaido nods. He still isn’t totally satisfied, but Yokoo’s attentions have taken the edge off enough that he can listen to what his master is saying at least. He tries harder to focus, Yokoo’s expression saying that he’s indulged his pet far enough for the time being, and punishments (not the good kind) are becoming a possibility.

“I have a surprise,” Yokoo tries again.

“Surprise?” Nikaido asks like it’s the first time he’s heard it, making Yokoo roll his eyes a little. Nikaido shifts, not wanting to look worried and annoy Yokoo, but sometimes the surprises turn out scary. Like that time Matchy-sama came to visit. “What kind of surprise?”

“Guests,” Yokoo answers. Nikaido scrutinizes Yokoo’s posture, but he seems relaxed, so it must not be anybody new, potentially dangerous.

“Fujigaya-sama?” Nikaido hazards a guess, and Yokoo gives a small smile. Fujigaya is their most frequent visitor, so it’s not much of a surprise, but then again he’s been away with Takizawa-sama on the borders and it has been some length of time since they’ve seen him. Nikaido relaxes at the news; not a scary surprise, then. “For dinner?” He shifts a little, doubts not entirely allayed. “Or food?”

“Maybe both. Pets as well,” Yokoo adds, standing up and smoothing the creases out of his shirt. That makes Nikaido perk up in interest; usually Tamamori and Miyata are left to entertain themselves at home. “So put something presentable on for your playdate, hm? The green yukata, I think.”

Nikaido is curious about Yokoo’s traditional choice of dress, but obedient. The rich emerald of the fabric makes his skin pale and his eyes dark, or so he’s been told, and the pattern of gold-outlined rabbits chasing across it seems to always amuse his master. Nikaido pins his hair up in the back as a final touch, leaving the pale line of his neck bare, inviting.

It makes more sense when Fujigaya arrives with his own pets, all of them outfitted in traditional style. It’s strange, to Nikaido’s eyes, since Fujigaya usually does them up modern, low-cut jeans and eyeliner, but it’s not without appeal certainly.

“Gifts from Tono,” Fujigaya explains, brushing a careless hand over the silk of his own fan-patterned, fuchsia yukata. His eyes stray to his pets and Nikaido’s gaze follows; Tamamori’s yellow with delicately-embroidered gold cranes and Miyata’s dark purple with the occasional green of a wandering turtle are both perfectly flattering. “He does like to dress us up.”

“He does!” Yokoo laughs, low and rich, making the hairs on the back of Nikaido’s neck rise. He gestures at his own shirt and pants, finely made but normal enough. “Ah, but I feel underdressed now. Should I change?”

“Only if I can watch,” Fujigaya purrs. The two of them disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving the three pets eyeing each other.

Nikaido scowls at being deserted, but edges closer to other two because he hates being alone even more. They’re both staring at him, Tamamori pressed close to Miyata’s side and watching Nikaido with vague interest. He doesn’t mind the pair of them, exactly, they aren’t threatening or anything (not like Goseki-sama or Totsuka-sama’s bunch), but they tend to be mostly wrapped up in each other rather than anybody else.

“You’ve been gone ages,” Nikaido tries to start a conversation.

“Have we?” Tamamori thinks for a long second before shrugging a shoulder. “I can never tell…Fujigaya-sama was busy all the time with Takizawa-dono.” Tamamori’s lips purse into a cute pout.

“I was there,” Miyata reminds, making Tamamori’s pout deepen. “And Takizawa-dono has a lot of pets to play with so it wasn’t boring. They dance! The dancing was fun, wasn’t it, Yuuta? Ah, but they weren’t as pretty as you,” Miyata amends when Tamamori’s expression threatens mutiny. “They taught us some, do you want to learn too?”

“I…” before Nikaido can get anymore words out, the French doors that lead out to the balcony bang open, cutting off his words with a little shriek of surprise. Tamamori and Miyata’s eyes widen, and Nikaido whirls around to look himself.

There’s another vampire in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. He isn’t as tall as Yokoo or Fujigaya, but he makes Nikaido’s skin prickle the same way, all the more for Nikaido’s alarm. He’s wearing a yukata as well, a rich, vibrant red that shows off the pale luster of his skin, especially since the V of bare skin trails nearly the whole way to his navel, the knot of his belt tied carelessly low on his hips.

He eyes them with a chuckle.

“You are cute little things, aren’t you,” he says, taking a step into the room. Nikaido shrinks back until he bumps into Tamamori and Miyata. Nikaido doesn’t want to take his eyes off the strange vampire long enough to look, but he bets that the two of them are just as nervous as him, although he hears a shuffling that he’s sure is Miyata trying to shove Tamamori behind him.

“Who are you?” Nikaido demands, willing Yokoo to come back as hard as he can. “This is my master’s house, you can’t just come in here!”

“Can’t I?” Kitayama laughs, fuller and richer, and Nikaido bristles at how it seems to rub over his skin. “Yokoo said you were feisty. Relax, little bunny, I’ve been invited.”

“Surprise,” Yokoo says from the other door, making Nikaido whirl with a growl, torn between relief and irritation at being startled again. Yokoo’s in matching attire to the rest of them now, although his flame-colored yukata is as carelessly tied as the new vampire’s, obviously done up in haste, hair tousled.

“Your timing sucks, Kitamitsu,” Fujigaya grouses, slouching against the doorframe behind Yokoo and looking a bit disheveled himself.

“I don’t know about that,” Kitayama smirks all the harder, eyeing the both of them knowingly, and Nikaido can’t say he finds this surprise any more pleasing than Fujigaya’s face suggests that he does.

“Manners, Hiromitsu. May I introduce Kitayama-sama,” Yokoo introduces properly, “and pet.”

Nikaido blinks in surprise and doesn’t hear whatever the vampires say next because suddenly a pair of big brown eyes surrounded by honey-colored curls are peering curiously at Nikaido around Kitayama’s shoulder.


“He is a cute little thing, isn’t he,” Yokoo comments, and Nikaido looks over his shoulder with narrow eyes because that’s what Kitayama had said about him and he hadn’t thought much of that, for sure.

Senga, the new pet, doesn’t seem to mind it. He doesn’t seem to mind anything, not Yokoo’s casual inspection of him or Fujigaya’s hands tugging at his sky blue yukata or Tamamori’s unimpressed stare. Senga seems shy but smiles readily enough, glancing over his shoulder at Kitayama as if for approval every few minutes.

The vampires are lounging about in the drawing room after dinner, gossiping about the news from the border and sparing their pets a glance now and then where they’re sitting on the plush carpet. Nikaido isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but Miyata is essentially talking to himself for all the attention Tamamori is paying to him, and Senga hasn’t said so much as a dozen words so far.

And anyway, their masters are talking about them.

“Cradle-robber,” Fujigaya accuses, and Nikaido has gathered that there’s some sort of rivalry between him and Kitayama. “Polite society frowns on that sort of thing, you know.”

“That’s rich coming from one of Takizawa’s favorite children,” Kitayama snorts. “He’s barely any younger than Yokoo’s.”

“You two haven’t the faintest idea how to take proper care of a pet,” Fujigaya says, shaking his head sadly. “Watta’s little bunny nearly jumps out of his skin if you so much as say boo…you can’t just leave them alone like that so much, you know, that’s why he’s so weird.”

Nikaido struggles to keep from protesting and interrupting; Yokoo has very little patience for bad manners in front of guests.

“And you,” Fujigaya waves a hand at Kitayama, “you don’t even have a proper place here! What are you going to do in the morning, sleep under a bridge?”

“Actually…” Kitayama smiles until Fujigaya frowns.

“Kitayama will be staying here for the present,” Yokoo finishes his dangling statement.

“What?!” Nikaido can’t hold back, making Yokoo eye him coldly. Behind him he hears Tamamori give a soft tsk.

“We are?” Senga asks softly, suddenly at Nikaido’s shoulder and listening in interest.

“Just until we find a suitable home ourselves,” Kitayama says, but then Yokoo’s eyes narrow and he adds quickly, “but thank you for the hospitality.”

Nikaido sniffs, slightly mollified; at least it’s not just him getting the manners lecture.

“Is it really okay?” Senga asks softly, gaze darting from his own master to Nikaido and then away again. Nikaido feels Senga’s eyes on him and tries to shrug off the prickle of it, the way it seems like Senga is asking him too. It isn’t for him to say, after all.


When the night starts to wane, Fujigaya takes his pets and his leave, and Kitayama goes to settle in his temporary quarters with Senga before dawn. Yokoo putters around, tidying up even though there is staff hired specifically to tend to that, and Nikaido trails him around closely, uneasy at the thought of strangers roaming his home.

“Not so close, little shadow,” Yokoo admonishes when he stops to straighten a vase, only to have Nikaido bump into his back. Nikaido wants to be much closer, though, so he only wraps arms around Yokoo’s thin waist, rubbing his cheek against Yokoo’s spine.

He squeezes tight against Yokoo when he isn’t reprimanded; he wants reassurance, wants the comfort of Yokoo’s skin against his.

“Again?” Yokoo turns somehow in Nikaido’s grip, so that Nikaido’s cheek is against his chest instead. “Takashi, you are quite spoiled.”

“You didn’t do it properly the first time, though,” Nikaido whines softly. He noses aside the silk of Yokoo’s yukata to mouth at his cool skin, watching Yokoo’s expression through his lashes.

“I’ll show you properly,” Yokoo growls, but it’s playful, and Nikaido shivers head to foot. “To bed, then. Dawn won’t be long anyway.”

Nikaido is scooped up and whisked away, clinging to Yokoo until he’s laid out across Yokoo’s bed. The knot of his yukata has been done up properly, so that it takes even Yokoo’s agile fingers a few seconds to undo it, to tug the fabric loose enough that it starts to slip from Nikaido’s shoulders. Yokoo doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Like a present,” Yokoo murmurs, his heated gaze undressing Nikaido the rest of the way when his hands don’t finish the job entirely. He covers Nikaido like a blanket, one hand tugging at Nikaido’s hair, mouth wet against Nikaido’s neck, teeth sharp.

Arching shamelessly, Nikaido tilts his head to expose more of his neck and spreads his legs to settle Yokoo between them, offering himself. This time Yokoo doesn’t make him wait; he thrusts inside Nikaido and bites down only a second later, the pain of it washed away in the hot rush of his venom entering Nikaido’s veins.

Yokoo hums Nikaido’s name against his skin, making him shudder and surrender to the force of Yokoo’s will, and Nikaido doesn’t know anything but euphoria after that.

It’s much later when Nikaido wakes, Yokoo a cold weight over top of him, sunlight leaking around the edges of the heavy curtains meant to block it from the bedroom. Nikaido takes his time moving, but eventually his growling stomach forces him from the bed. He pulls the curtain shut properly on his way out, shrouding the room in complete darkness, before finding his way to the door through touch and familiarity.

Out in the hallway, the servants have drawn the curtains properly so that the carpet is warm from sunlight under Nikaido’s feet. He’s naked but pays it no mind as he pads to the staircase; the servants are paid well enough not to comment.

“Oh!” Senga nearly bumps into Nikaido when he comes around the corner, still wearing his yukata from the night before, although it looks rather mis-tied now. Senga’s mouth turns into a cute little O. “You’re naked!”

“Uh-huh.” Nikaido scratches his stomach idly. Senga’s eyes drop to the carpet and his cheeks turn pink. “So what? And what are you wandering around for?”

“You are too,” Senga points out, and it’s on the tip of Nikaido’s tongue to point out that he lives here when Senga adds, “I was hungry, and Kitayama-sama’s asleep, so…”

“Oh, come on, then,” Nikaido relents, too hungry himself to worry about Kitayama’s pet doing whatever. “You can follow me.”

Nikaido feels too lazy to be served breakfast properly, so he leads Senga straight back to the kitchen instead. One of the girls there feeds them fresh-baked bread and cheese, and Nikaido talks her into making some hot chocolate as well, watching smugly as Senga takes a first sip and his eyes widen at the sweet richness of it.

“Are you gonna follow me all day?” Nikaido asks when he realizes, halfway up the stairs, that Senga is still trailing him.

“Can’t I?” Senga looks dismayed. “But I don’t know where anything is…” Senga trails off, chewing his lip. “Please? I won’t bother you. I just don’t like being alone that much.”

Nikaido mulls that over; it isn’t like he enjoys it himself. “Fine, so long as you’re not annoying.”

Nikaido is a pretty lazy pet, but Senga doesn’t seem to have any objection to the long, hot bath that they take together, both of them sighing happily as the heat of the water seeps into their muscles. They leave Senga’s yukata in a heap in the bathroom and crawl into Nikaido’s bed to nap after, Senga making noises of appreciation at the plush of the sheets against his bare skin. Nikaido falls asleep more easily than usual, the bed not seeming far too big like it usually does.

Eventually he wakes, hungry again, to find Senga a warm line against his side, hair a tangle of curls across his pillow, mouth parted. Even to Nikaido, it’s easy to see how he ended up Kitayama’s pet. After a second he shakes Senga’s shoulder to wake him as well and is already crawling out of bed by the time Senga stirs.

“Here,” he tosses a shirt and pants of his own at Senga, since they look to be about the same size.

“So you do wear clothes sometimes,” Senga says, sitting up and stretching. Nikaido narrows his eyes, not sure if he’s being teased.

“Obviously, for dinner,” he settles on, and Senga obeys easily enough when Nikaido tells him to hurry up.

It’s just about sunset when they finish up eating, and Nikaido can feel Yokoo about to wake singing all through his blood. He leaves the table without bothering to finish dessert, focused only on the faint call of his master, growing steadily more clear as Yokoo regains consciousness.

The lamps have already been lit when Nikaido reaches Yokoo’s room, lighting Yokoo’s pale skin in soft oranges where he’s sprawled over the bed on his stomach, blankets kicked off to the side. Yokoo’s eyes are heavy with sleep still, but they track Nikaido easily enough as he trots across the room.

“Good morning, little pet.” Yokoo gathers Nikaido in under one arm, buries his nose in Nikaido’s hair and draws a long breath. Nikaido shivers at the touch of Yokoo’s breath on his scalp. “I see you brought our guest.”

Nikaido looks over his shoulder to find Senga loitering in the doorway. “You again! Shouldn’t you be pestering your own master?”

“He never wakes this early,” Senga says softly, eyes on the carpet, his shyness back now that it’s not just him and Nikaido. “He sleeps ages, it’s why Takizawa-sama said we ought to stay with another vampire…”

“You may stay, if you like,” Yokoo pats the space on the bed just past Nikaido, making Nikaido gasp indignantly. Yokoo smiles, fangs showing. “But if you come that close we might involve you in our games.”

Senga only hesitates a second before crossing the room and crawling up into bed next to them. Yokoo leans in close enough to press his nose into the curve of Senga’s shoulder, but Senga does nothing to stop him, only shivers a little.

“Mmm, you smell like Takashi,” Yokoo purrs, then chuckles when Nikaido wraps possessive arms tight around his neck. “I think I’m going to quite enjoy your visit…”

Nikaido wonders if Senga will get punished for playing with him and Yokoo while Kitayama is asleep, but Kitayama hardly seems to care when he eventually strolls into the drawing room, even though he must smell the two of them all over Senga. He tugs Senga’s head back by the hair to kiss him with casual possession as a good morning.

“And good morning to you as well,” Kitayama greets Yokoo. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Mm, chocolate mousse for dessert, was it? Any more of that, do you think?” He spares Nikaido a glance before adding, “Unless you’ve something sweeter on the menu…”


Life with Kitayama and Senga in their house settles into a routine quicker than Nikaido could have imagined, so much so that Nikaido is startled to realize that two weeks have passed by the time Yokoo tells him he’ll be away a few nights.

“No excuse for that face now, is there,” Yokoo says when Nikaido’s expression says exactly what he thinks about that. “You’ll have Kento to keep you company and Kitayama to protect you now.”

“Who cares about them,” Nikaido grumbles, clinging to Yokoo all the tighter. They don’t even make it out of bed that night, Yokoo drinking more deeply to store up for the nights away, and by the time Nikaido claws his way back to consciousness, it’s mid-afternoon and Yokoo is long gone.

Senga is sitting beside him, propped up against the pillows with a book, and he looks up in relief when Nikaido stirs. “Thank goodness! I was starting to worry.”

“Who asked you,” Nikaido says crankily, rolling onto his side with his back to Senga. Even though Yokoo must be asleep, Nikaido can feel the distance between them, making him feel lonely and lethargic.

Senga isn’t put off by Nikaido’s gruff words and malaise, and he spends the day coaxing Nikaido to eat or else just being nearby. It soothes Nikaido’s ruffled feathers a little, but by the time twilight is approaching, Nikaido’s anxiety redoubles. It happens by chance that Senga sits a little too close, jostling Nikaido, and Nikaido’s temper flares, making him whirl on Senga and push him down.

By the time he gets a hold of himself, he realizes he’s looming over Senga, holding him down with the weight of his body, Senga staring up at him with wide eyes. Nikaido grunts an apology, cheeks flaring red, but before he can scramble off, Senga is reaching up to work gentle hands into Nikaido’s hair, leaning up against him to press their mouths together.

Nikaido freezes and doesn’t move until Senga flops back down against the floor. “What was that?!” he demands.

Senga shrugs. “You’re lonely. It’s ages until Kitayama-sama wakes up, and Yokoo-sama’s away, so…” Nikaido growls at the reminder, but it cuts off when Senga strokes fingers through Nikaido’s hair more deliberately. “Haven’t you ever played with other pets?”

Nikaido narrows his eyes. He’s never done anything like that without Yokoo present, but…actually it explains a lot about Tamamori and Miyata. “This some weird thing you learned from Takizawa-sama’s pets? Like the dancing?”

“It’s not as good as with your master,” Senga admits, tugging Nikaido down against him with a surprising amount of strength, “but it’s good enough.”

This time when Senga kisses Nikaido, it isn’t a surprise, and heat washes over Nikaido’s skin as Senga licks his way into Nikaido’s mouth. He clutches at Senga’s shoulders as Senga works hands under his shirt and drags warm fingers down his back, not sure what to do when he’s not a passive participant as he is with Yokoo. Fortunately for him, despite being on the bottom, Senga doesn’t mind giving direction.

“Bed,” Senga drags his mouth away from Nikaido’s to say, and Nikaido realizes he’s light-headed from lack of oxygen. “Otherwise there’s rugburn.”

That doesn’t sound pleasant, and Nikaido allows himself to be pushed to his feet and then pulled along to Senga’s bed for once, since it happens to be closer. Senga strips off his clothing before climbing in and Nikaido follows suit, but he pauses there, awkward on his hands and knees, as Senga stretches out on his back with a sigh.

“It’s okay,” Senga soothes Nikaido’s hesitation. He reaches out and wraps a hand around Nikaido’s cock, making him jump and Senga chuckle. “See, you’re already getting hard. You want me, right? Even a little?”

Nikaido isn’t sure what he wants, the spark of heat he feels when he looks down at Senga nothing compared to the fire that Yokoo kindles in him, but Senga’s hand on him does feel good, and it feels even better when Senga draws him up with a coaxing hand, close enough to lick at his tip. It makes him shiver, and a glance down shows that Senga has his other hand on himself, stroking slowly. When he looks back up, Senga is looking at him knowingly, pink lips wrapped around his cock, and that sends a surge of arousal through him, much clearer than before.

Senga only laughs when Nikaido pulls away from his hand and mouth, hums in appreciation when Nikaido drops on top of him like he had been earlier.

“You feel good,” Senga murmurs, arching and rubbing himself against Nikaido, hands roaming over Nikaido’s skin. He flexes his hips so that their cocks slide against each other, and Nikaido can’t suppress a choked noise. “Don’t stop…”

He doesn’t stop, rubbing against Senga more purposefully until Senga is making a steady stream of soft, pleading noises underneath him, eyes squeezed shut and fingers tight on Nikaido’s skin. Senga tilts his head to the side, baring his neck, and Nikaido leans down without coherent thought, nips at the pale skin there just like Yokoo has done to him countless times.

“Yes, oh,” Senga whimpers, making Nikaido light-headed with want and control, “oh,” and when Nikaido bites down harder, Senga comes between them in hot pulses, shuddering himself out underneath Nikaido. Nikaido plants his knees and thrusts in earnest, and it only takes him a few seconds longer to come himself, Senga still moaning softly in his ear.

They stay curled up in Senga’s bed until it’s full dark, Nikaido having lost all track of time with Yokoo’s pull on him being so distant, his head rising and falling with Senga’s breath, Senga’s hand smoothing repetitively over his hair. He’s nearly asleep from it when Kitayama comes into the room, startling him out of his doze.

When he leans his head back he finds Senga’s face tilted up for Kitayama’s kiss, hands curling against Nikaido’s skin in time with the flicks of Kitayama’s tongue.

“Che,” Nikaido grumbles, loneliness and jealously spiking in his chest, but to his surprise, Kitayama breaks the kiss with Senga to wish him good morning the same way. Kitayama’s power doesn’t feel the same as Yokoo’s, but it’s something, and Nikaido leans into it without thinking, craving anything that reminds him of his own master, anything that can fill the emptiness in his chest.

But when Kitayama slides into bed beside them, Nikaido edges back, putting Senga in between them. Playing with another pet is one thing, but another vampire…

“Hm,” Kitayama only seems amused by Nikaido’s use of Senga as a human shield, “is Wataru the possessive type? Interesting~.”

Nikaido isn’t sure, since he’s never been alone with another vampire before, but better safe than sorry, better than waiting for Yokoo to come home all this time only to be punished. To Nikaido’s surprise, Kitayama doesn’t push the issue over the next few days, seemingly content to have Nikaido watch him with Senga, or to watch Nikaido and Senga himself on a few occasions.

He gets the feeling, though, that the novelty is beginning to wear off for Senga’s master, and Nikaido is relieved when Yokoo finally does return, a flare of power over his skin sending him scrambling to the balcony long before Yokoo is even in sight.


For the rest of the night, Nikaido is occupied being as close as possible to Yokoo and doesn’t spare any thoughts to their guests or the events of Yokoo’s absence; it’s not until the next night that Yokoo himself brings it up.

“So it seems you were entertained well enough while I was gone,” Yokoo says. Nikaido flushes and looks up in alarm, but Yokoo’s face shows only amusement and Nikaido dares relax a little. “Hiromitsu says you were loyal to a fault, and adorably so.”

“I’m yours, aren’t I,” Nikaido says, winding arms around Yokoo’s neck and pressing close to Yokoo’s skin, warmed from recent feeding. There’s no heartbeat where Nikaido’s ear is against Yokoo’s chest, but his own is thudding loud enough for the both of them, rushing with Yokoo’s nearness.

“Mm, you did well, little pet,” Yokoo gives a pleased hum that seems to vibrate into Nikaido’s bones. “Shall I give you a reward?”

Nikaido doesn’t know what Yokoo could give him that he would want more than how he’s curled tight against Yokoo at the moment, with his master’s full attention. He’s even more puzzled when the door swings open and Kitayama strolls inside, Senga following curiously behind him. Kitayama approaches the bed with purpose, and Nikaido edges further under Yokoo. “Master…?”

It has the opposite effect than Nikaido wants; all his edging over just leaves enough space in Yokoo’s impressively-sized bed for Senga to clamor up on when Kitayama pushes him forward.

“Don’t be so coy,” Yokoo rolls to the side so that he’s a wall blocking Nikaido’s escape, “I hear you and Kento haven’t been spending your afternoons reading.”

“Properly,” Kitayama warns lazily, stripping off his shirt.

“Welcome back, Yokoo-sama,” Senga says sweetly. He leans over Nikaido to kiss Yokoo just as sweetly, and Nikaido squeaks in outrage, no idea where to even start his protest.

“Mm,” Yokoo says when the kiss breaks, “I’m home.” He glances down at Nikaido’s fierce scowl, and then up to Kitayama. “I told you his faces were cute.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Senga coaxes, curling easily against Nikaido and pressing a kiss to Nikaido’s mouth as well. Nikaido growls a complaint, but it only buzzes against Senga’s lips, and his irritation melts away as Senga strokes clever fingers down his spine. “Mm,” Senga whispers, sliding his mouth down to kiss Nikaido’s jaw, making him tilt his head for more, “I missed you during the day.”

“And I told you they were worth watching,” Kitayama says, Nikaido having trouble focusing on his words as Senga scrapes teeth over his pulse point. “It’s almost good enough just watching them.” The last of his clothing on the floor, Kitayama slides in behind Senga and slides a hand between Senga’s legs, making him tear his mouth away from Nikaido with a gasp. “Almost.”

Yokoo is suddenly tight against Nikaido’s back, whether because he wants a better view or so that he can reach more easily, Nikaido isn’t sure. Yokoo’s hand closes around Nikaido’s cock and Nikaido whimpers and thrusts into his fist, clutches at Senga still sucking at his throat.

“Takashi likes to be on top,” Kitayama remarks casually, and the low laugh that Yokoo gives sends jolts of want up Nikaido’s spine.

“Funny, isn’t that what you always say about Kento?” Yokoo asks, and now both masters are laughing, Senga shuddering and rubbing against Nikaido. “Ah, but I think I have a solution then.”

Before he knows exactly what’s happening, Nikaido is rolled onto his back and Senga is over top of him, and then everything goes fuzzy as Senga slides down onto Nikaido’s cock, Yokoo holding him steady and Kitayama pushing Senga down. Senga’s skin feels like it’s burning under Nikaido’s hands, Senga’s heat surrounding him, over top of him and squeezing around his cock tightly enough that Nikaido can barely draw air into his lungs.

“Taka?” Senga asks, voice soft and strained, and Nikaido struggles to open his eyes. He finds Senga blinking down at him, his own eyes wide and glassy, their brown dark with lust. Nikaido tries to answer but can’t, only managing a whine. He’s never been inside someone else, only ever been taken himself, and he’s already close to the edge, hips snapping out of his control.

“Fuck, no wonder Taisuke keeps two,” Yokoo says. Kitayama answers with just a sharp grin, reaching over to squeeze Senga’s neglected cock. It makes Senga tighten around Nikaido with a cry, and Nikaido can’t hold back any longer. Digging his fingers into Senga’s thighs hard enough to bruise, Nikaido spends himself inside Senga and then goes limp.

It’s kind of something not to pass out right after, Nikaido thinks fuzzily, which is what happens when Yokoo feeds on him. It’s something else to see Senga’s expression as he fucks himself down onto Nikaido and up into Kitayama’s fist, to feel the tingling rush over his skin as he comes down. He wants to be closer to Senga, wants to feel him all over, so he reaches up and yanks Senga down by the shoulders, curling arms and legs tight around him. Senga’s skin is so hot against his, making Nikaido groan wordlessly, tasting salt when he licks at Senga’s shoulder. Senga whines and squirms, still hard against Nikaido’s stomach.

“Not satisfied?” Kitayama asks, making Senga whine louder. “Of course not.” He pulls Senga free of Nikaido’s grip like he’s brushing off a kitten and settles Senga on top of himself, thrusting up into Senga in one smooth stroke that makes Senga wail at the top of it.

Nikaido’s growl of irritation is interrupted by Yokoo rolling over to take Senga’s place between Nikaido’s legs.

“Certainly I’m not satisfied either,” he says, and then he seizes Nikaido’s mouth roughly, kiss possessive and with more than a hint of fang. Vaguely Nikaido thinks about Kitayama’s mention of Yokoo being possessive-type, before he loses himself in the pulse of his master’s power rolling over him, surrendering completely to Yokoo and letting him take whatever he likes.

Yokoo does take Nikaido, roughly enough that Nikaido’s cry actually drowns out Senga for a moment. Trembling and gasping for air, Nikaido clings to Yokoo, begging him in half-syllables of his name for something, more, anything, until his master finally gives in. Tugging Nikaido’s head to the side, Yokoo sinks fangs into his neck, making Nikaido wail at the rush of heat it sends flooding through his veins.

To Nikaido’s distress, Yokoo doesn’t drink deeply enough to send him the whole way under, but pulls back after only a second or two, licking his lips. Beside him, Kitayama has been watching, and now leans over to swipe his tongue across the fresh wounds, lapping up a trickle of Nikaido’s blood with a growl of pleasure. Nikaido shudders as Kitayama’s power crawls over his skin like ants; it feels strange, and a little wrong, to have anyone but Yokoo so intimate, like a stranger touching him. But with Yokoo so close, staring down at him, inside of him, all of the sensations get confused with Nikaido’s pleasure as Yokoo drives him higher and higher.

Senga comes suddenly, his exclamation shrill enough that it pulls Nikaido out of his stupor to turn his head. Senga’s hair is soaked with sweat, skin flushed and movements wild as he rides Kitayama, streaking Kitayama’s hand and chest white with his release. He sways and then collapses on Kitayama’s chest, twitching when Kitayama brushes his hair aside to bite down where Senga’s pulse is fluttering erratically, now that he’s within easy reach.

“Lazy,” Yokoo accuses, watching as well, but Kitayama only laughs when he pulls his mouth away from Senga’s skin, lips red with Senga’s blood before he licks it away.

“Why work so hard when he’ll come to me?” is Kitayama’s question. “Speaking of not being satisfied…” Senga tumbles to the side, a slack heap, to reveal that Kitayama’s cock is still hard, curled up nearly to his belly. He rolls over onto his side, bringing him close enough that he can press his mouth to Nikaido’s neck again. The wound is healing over already, but still open enough that Kitayama growls at the taste of him, that it sends a jolt through Nikaido, making him scrabble at Yokoo. “Mm, he does taste as good as he looks, doesn’t he. You’re welcome to a taste of Kento as well, you know.”

“Privilege of being the host?” Yokoo asks, thrusting out of time and making Nikaido keen.

“Share and share alike,” Kitayama replies with a careless shrug, reaching between them to palm Nikaido’s cock, rubbing his thumb against the wetness at Nikaido’s tip. He pauses after only a stroke, though, making Nikaido groan desperately. “You never switch?”

“Takashi doesn’t seem to have any complaints.” Yokoo’s thrusts slow, and some sort of exchange without words occurs between the two masters, that Nikaido has no hope of following.

He surely has a complaint when Yokoo pulls out of him without warning, and pushes him up onto his side with a shove. Kitayama chuckles at Nikaido’s yowl and calls him cute, making Nikaido glare at him.

“That just makes you even cuter, you know,” Kitayama laughs all the harder, but Nikaido’s retort is cut off by Yokoo pushing back into him from behind, hooking a hand around one of Nikaido’s thighs and tugging his leg up to give himself room. “Say, Taka-chan, I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Eh?” Nikaido squints at Kitayama, struggling to keep his eyes open despite the force of Yokoo’s thrusts and the new angle of Yokoo inside him, making sharp jolts of pleasure burst over his skin. Kitayama slides up until his cock is level with Nikaido’s face, and Nikaido understands at least half of the deal well enough.

“If you do a good job,” Kitayama says, working a hand into Nikaido’s hair and tugging, “I’ll let you have me, like you enjoyed having Kento so much. Although with me you’ll have to do all the work.”

“No kidding,” Yokoo snorts softly into the back of Nikaido’s neck, his hot breath making goosebumps chase over Nikaido’s skin.

“And if Yokoo-san doesn’t get you over-excited in the meantime,” Kitayama adds, glancing down at Nikaido’s own flushed cock with a raised eyebrow. He tugs more seriously, and Nikaido wraps lips around Kitayama’s cock before he can say anything else and get himself into any more trouble.

He barely has to do anything, Kitayama push-pulling him in the rhythm he wants, so Nikaido focuses on trying to breathe, on the salt of Kitayama’s skin on his tongue, on not coughing when Kitayama pushes in more deeply. Mostly he tries to distract himself from the way Yokoo is moving deep and slow inside of him, the way it makes him burn from the inside out. It would be so easy to lose himself in the rush of power pouring off both of them, but Nikaido is determined to last, would grit his teeth if his mouth weren’t full.

“Oh come on, Hiromitsu, he’s trying so hard,” Yokoo chuckles, the thrum of that alone against Nikaido’s skin nearly making him lose it. “Don’t make us wait.”

“Hm, since you asked so nicely, I suppose…” Kitayama lets go of Nikaido’s hair with one hand to grip the base of his cock. After only a handful of rough strokes he shudders, pushes back deeply enough into Nikaido’s mouth that he barely gets a taste of it. Kitayama sighs in satisfaction, fingers twisting tight in Nikaido’s hair for a few seconds before they relax. He lets his hand fall to stroke a thumb along Nikaido’s cheekbone as Nikaido finishes sucking him clean. “Should have pulled out,” he murmurs with a trace of regret. “Ah well, next time. Us, you said?”

“Takashi isn’t the only one waiting,” Yokoo growls. He lets go of Nikaido’s thigh to grab at Kitayama’s instead, to yank him down, within reach. Kitayama leans in, over Nikaido’s head, to crush his mouth against Yokoo’s.

The kiss is a fierce battle of tongues and fangs, power flaring as they fight for dominance, and Nikaido whines desperately, caught in the middle, shaking uncontrollably. His hands grab at Kitayama’s hips, the nearest thing, and he digs his fingers in tightly, but the skin-to-skin contact with both of them only makes the feedback loop they’re stuck in flow through him more strongly.

Finally Kitayama breaks away, eyes nearly black, skin flushed, and growls a “Now,” at Nikaido. He hooks a leg over Nikaido and Yokoo’s and hitches them more tightly together. Nikaido thrusts forward without thinking, hardly able to control what his body is doing, and Kitayama has to reach around behind himself to guide him into the right spot. When Nikaido finally does push inside Kitayama, he can hardly breathe for the rush of searing heat that floods over him, can only cry out shrilly.

“Fuck yes,” Yokoo says, taking control. He shifts and thrusts into Nikaido with purpose, driving him deeper into Kitayama. Kitayama gasps for Yokoo to fuck him harder, and Yokoo does, Nikaido a helpless toy in between the two of them, free will destroyed under the onslaught to his senses as the two masters use him on each other.

He can’t hope to last any longer; Kitayama groans Nikaido’s name in his ear and Yokoo bites down on the curve of Nikaido’s shoulder, and Nikaido wails one sobbed note of release before everything goes black.


When Nikaido comes to, the room is pitch black, and for a split-second Nikaido’s heart races in panic when he has no idea where he is and what’s happened.

“Takashi?” Senga’s voice murmurs, and Nikaido relaxes, passing adrenaline cool in his veins, as he sorts out his senses and realizes that Senga is pressed against his chest. Senga’s skin is hot as ever, a strange contrast to the chill weight of Yokoo against his back.

His limbs ache dully from overuse when he shifts, even despite Yokoo’s venom, but Senga’s heat helps soothe away some of the stiffness. Nikaido decides hunger and stickiness are minor inconveniences compared with moving, quite content where he is, to do nothing other than think vaguely about how strange it is to have Senga warm and breathing and heart-beating against one side of him, when Yokoo is cold and still on the other.

Eventually Senga shakes him out of a doze, ignoring the way Nikaido groans for him to quit it.

“Come on,” Senga urges, already sitting up, and Nikaido whines at the loss of heat. “They won’t be happy if we don’t take care of ourselves, you know.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Nikaido has to agree, grumbling as they try to climb over their lifeless masters and end up on their feet without falling on their faces in the pitch darkness. “And I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry!” Senga laughs. His hand finds Nikaido’s in the dark, and Nikaido pulls him towards the door, fumbling for the handle by touch. Out in the hallway, they look each other over, giggling at each other’s wild hair and awkward steps.

Shoulder to shoulder in the warmth of the kitchen, Senga and Nikaido inhale soup and toasted cheese sandwiches, too busy with food to talk, but eventually Nikaido realizes that Senga is strangely quiet, picking pieces of crust off his bread.

“Hm?” he shoulders at Senga.

“Hey…” Senga starts, eyes glued to his sandwich. “How long do you think Kitayama-sama will want to stay?”

Nikaido freezes, having completely forgotten that Senga and Kitayama are just guests in Yokoo’s house. He pushes away the rest of his food, the thought of being by himself again making it taste like ashes in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t mind staying,” Senga says, so quietly Nikaido can barely hear him over the crackle of the fire. He wraps an arm tight around Senga’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and lets Senga feed him the little pieces he’s tearing off his sandwich.

The rest of the day seems to stretch unusually long, despite how much of it they had spent in bed, and Nikaido is relieved when the sun finally starts to sink towards the horizon. He and Senga go back to Yokoo’s room early enough that they have to light the lamps inside themselves, and then crawl into Yokoo’s bed, settling in the same spots they had been when they woke up.

Yokoo stirs eventually, and he seems pleased, or at least amused, to find the two of them curled up between him and Kitayama, talking quietly about nothing while Senga pets Nikaido’s hair. On their other side, Kitayama doesn’t stir, but he does start to snore.

“Useless,” Yokoo says, sparing Kitayama a glance. “That’s what you get for turning so late. And what have you two been up to all day?”

“Nothing really,” Nikaido answers for both of them, Senga as usual regaining some shyness in front of Yokoo without Kitayama. “Yokoo-sama?”

“Hm?” Yokoo asks, lifting an arm to stroke Nikaido’s hair along with Senga, the touch of Yokoo’s fingers making his eyes flutter.

Nikaido takes a deep breath. “How long will Kitayama-sama and Kento be guests?”

Yokoo’s hand stills a moment, and then resumes, a little smile curling up one side of his mouth as he eyes the pair of them looking up at him. “They really aren’t guests even now. That is, if they don’t want to be.”

Behind Nikaido, there’s a small stir of movement, and then Kitayama’s sleep-thick voice asks, “Th’hell kind of weird off’rs’re you makin’ them?”

Senga startles all of them by throwing himself up at Yokoo to wrap arms around his neck, squishing Nikaido in between them. Yokoo pats Senga’s head with an, “Okay, okay,” and Nikaido settles for squeezing Senga tight around the middle, where he’s slid down against Senga’s side. The knots in his stomach dissolve, and Nikaido buries the wide grin he finds himself wearing against Senga’s stomach until Senga shoves him towards Yokoo with the giggled complaint that he’s tickling.


“You guys are gross,” Tamamori says from across Miyata’s lap, no patience for the card game they’re playing and holding his cards too lazily to keep the rest of them from seeing what he has.

“You started it,” Nikaido says, in a relaxed sprawl on the floor, cheek pillowed against Senga’s thigh.

“He’s not as fun now that he’s not so easy to scare,” Fujigaya complains to Yokoo from the couch, and Nikaido would consider tilting his head back to stick his tongue out, but he’s too comfortable currently, and also there’s Yokoo and the manners again.

“Speak for yourself,” Kitayama says, on his back across the couch on Yokoo’s other side, head looking quite comfortable in Yokoo’s lap. Fujigaya makes a disgusted noise, but it only makes Kitayama leer at him harder. “Stick around if you want, and you’ll see exactly how much fun our cute little pets can be…”

Fujigaya reaches down to interrupt that line of thought with a yank to Kitayama’s hair, making Kitayama cut off with a grunt. Nikaido watches them out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should be nervous about that offer or not.

“Now, now, children,” Yokoo says mildly, turning his head to kiss Fujigaya’s cheek, mollifying him. “You’re the one who said they needed socialized after all, Taisuke.”

Yokoo catches Nikaido watching and gives him a wink. Nikaido’s mouth twitches, and he allows his attention to be pulled back to the game when Senga plays his next card with a noise of triumph and Tamamori whines a complaint at Miyata, content that Yokoo will take care of them after all.

He’s too distracted by the other pets carrying on to hear Yokoo add, “But I’m sure we could dig up an extra room if you three are interested.”

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