Kis-My-Ft2, Senpai’s Treat

Title: Senpai’s Treat [Kitayama/Senga]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: 21-year-old Senga doesn’t make a big show of it like 16-year-old Senga used to, but Kitayama likes that even more.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Mostly for Ri, who loves her the KitaSen.

Senpai’s Treat

“Treat me?” Senga asks, and Kitayama gives in easily, letting him pick the place even. 21-year-old Senga doesn’t make a big show of it like 16-year-old Senga used to, with the big eyes and the sweet voice and the shy smile. It was cute, back then, and Nikaido uses it on Watta still like every other day, but Kitayama prefers this new Senga, who simply asks for what he wants directly.

He likes this confident, adult Senga more than a little, when he’s being honest with himself.

“Hm, where to go…” Senga stretches as he thinks, T-shirt riding up over toned, flat stomach muscles. Kitayama doesn’t hide the fact that he’s looking, and Senga doesn’t make any move to stop him. “Izakaya? Ah! I’ve never been drinking with just Leader before.”

“Well, then, if I can collect one of Ken-chan’s firsts…” Kitayama wiggles his eyebrows, and Senga laughs and punches his arm lightly before he turns to change.

Kitayama takes him to the place he likes near his apartment, even if it’s a bit of a trip from work. It’s a hole-in-the-wall, but no one will bother them or take pictures. Most importantly, the karaage is excellent and Kitayama has confidence that the lady who runs the place will take one look at Senga’s sweet face and slip them extras all night.

Despite talking Kitayama into treating, Senga insists on buying the first round, delighted to do something so adult. Senga’s old enough to be senpai himself, Kitayama remembers as he taps his glass against Senga’s. The thought makes him smile as he thinks about Snowmen and their little band of drama idiots wheedling Senga with the same cute smile that Senga uses on him, Senga giving in with the same put-out expression that Kitayama wears, but really loving every second of it.

“Hey!” Senga realizes suddenly. “Soon I’ll be able to take most of Snow Man out, huh?” He grins with excitement at the prospect, and Kitayama can only laugh at how they seem to be on the same wavelength.

With a few drinks in him, Senga’s cheeks are pink and his eyes bright, his fingers warm when they brush against Kitayama’s reaching for the same snack. His tongue loosens up, not like he’s quiet usually, and he makes Kitayama laugh with stories of Nikaido driving Yokoo crazy at their play, with some of Miyata and Tamamori’s hijinks from movie filming that Kitayama hasn’t heard from them yet.

“Sorry I talk so much,” Senga apologizes when he realizes, nose scrunching cutely.

“Don’t apologize, you’re good company,” Kitayama assures, making Senga preen at the compliment. Good enough that Kitayama has drunk more than he ought to probably, given that they have work tomorrow. His head is fuzzy, and he isn’t looking forward to trying to stand up. “Ah, I was going to seduce you into letting me take you home, but I might have to convince you to take me home instead.”

“It’s okay.” Senga’s smile changes to conspiratory, knowing, and oh, Kitayama likes that way too much. “If it’s Leader, I’d go wherever.”

“Idiot kouhai,” Kitayama grumbles, blaming his warm cheeks on the beer. He pays and gets them out of there before he really embarrasses himself. At least in public; in the privacy of his own apartment, he’s long ago given up trying to keep his groupmates from embarrassing him.

Senga’s fingers are even warmer as they wrap through Kitayama’s and tug him out into the night, and Kitayama doesn’t see any reason why he should let go for the trip back to his apartment. They’re barely in the door before Kitayama finds himself with an armful of Senga, pressed against the door, Senga’s mouth slick against his and still tasting like karaage.

“Mm, I could just eat you up,” Kitayama teases, making Senga snort and break the kiss. Kitayama brushes his lips over Senga’s cheekbone, down his jaw. “Mail your mom so she doesn’t worry.”

Senga just laughs, carefree. “I mailed her before dinner. Did you think you were getting rid of me?” When he opens his eyes, they’re dark enough that Kitayama could drown in them. “It’s not so often I get Leader all to myself, you know.”

“Your fault for growing up,” Kitayama says, sliding fingers under Senga’s shirt, the skin of Senga’s back hot and smooth. “You don’t need me hardly at all anymore.”

“Doesn’t stop me wanting you,” Senga murmurs, arching under Kitayama’s hands, making Kitayama want to touch more, touch all of him. “Take me to bed?”

They tug each other’s clothing off on the way, leaving a trail of shirts and jeans and boxers that leads right to Kitayama’s bed. Kitayama throws himself onto it first, sighing happily at the softness of his mattress as he rolls around a little, the fresh scent of his sheets that he’d changed that morning before he left.

“Sometimes I think,” Senga says for no reason, still standing and looking Kitayama over with fond eyes, “about if you were the kouhai, and I got to be your senpai and take you out and spoil you. Cute~.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Ugh, I’m totally drunk.”

“Just get down here,” Kitayama orders, letting himself think about it just a little, seeing Senga for a fleeting second how the younger guys must see him, how he could be a strong and dependable older brother. “You can spoil me all you want. Should I call you senpai?”

“What?” Senga laughs as he crawls onto the bed, lets Kitayama guide him by the hips until he’s on his hands and knees over top of Kitayama.

Kitayama makes his eyes wide and trusting, and blinks up at Senga innocently. “You’ll be gentle with me, right, senpai?”

“WEIRD, stop it!” Senga demands, role-playing apparently not his thing unlike some other members of their group Kitayama could name. Kitayama chuckles and pulls him down for a kiss, putting all his squirming to good use as Senga’s hips settle against his. He feels so warm all over, the heat of Senga’s skin relaxing him into a puddle, Senga’s fingertips making his skin goosebump everywhere he drags them. Kitayama thumbs the bumps of Senga’s spine in return and makes Senga moan softly into his mouth.

He rocks them together until Senga is hard against his thigh and is just starting to think about what he wants when Senga drags lips over to Kitayama’s ear and asks if he can suck him off.

“Who on earth is going to say no to that?” Kitayama wonders aloud, pushing Senga’s shoulders down in an obvious yes, and Senga’s mouth feels just as hot and good on his dick as it did everywhere else it’s touched.

Kitayama runs fingers through Senga’s hair, surprisingly soft despite all the perming, tugging just enough to make Senga hum around him and chanting Senga’s name softly. He has to do the talking for both of them, since Senga’s mouth is full, but he doesn’t mind telling Senga exactly how good he feels, how good he looks doing it. Senga wraps a hand around Kitayama’s length so he can draw back and suck the salt off of his tip, and when he laps at the underside of Kitayama’s head, Kitayama comes undone suddenly enough that he can’t even choke out a warning in time.

“Sorry,” he says, feeling fuzzy all over, when he can breath again. Senga is already crawling back up into his arms, though, apparently unconcerned, nosing at Kitayama’s jaw like he isn’t sure Kitayama will be okay with kissing after that. Kitayama turns his head to crush their mouths together properly, shivering with aftershocks at the taste of himself in Senga’s mouth and the heat of Senga’s skin all along his own.

“Should have made you go first, shouldn’t I?” Senga says ruefully as Kitayama’s kiss gets lazier and lazier, obviously about to fall asleep, and Kitayama chuckles ruefully and says yeah, that would have been smarter. “I want your hands anyway, this time.”

“I can do that,” Kitayama agrees, rolling Senga over and tucking him against his chest so it’s easy to have him close and wrap hands around him at the same time. He uses one hand to pump Senga, wrapped tight around his shaft, and the other drifts down to roll his balls, or occasionally back up to rub at the wetness of Senga’s tip.

“You have the best hands,” Senga sighs, and he keeps talking the whole time like he’s making up for his enforced silence before. “They’re so strong and warm, and that guitar callus feels so good, next time I want to feel that inside me, okay?”

“Just my fingers?” Kitayama teases, breathing warm into Senga’s ear to make him shudder against Kitayama. He licks at Senga’s shoulder and tastes salt, mouthing at his skin to taste more.

“For a start,” Senga answers, snapping his hips up into Kitayama’s grip, obviously close. “Mm, gonna come…”

Senga pulses hot and wet over Kitayama’s fingers, then goes boneless against Kitayama’s chest with a satisfied sigh. So much for clean sheets, Kitayama thinks as he wipes his hand off on the convenient bit near by, but oh well. Having such a cute body pillow is worth a little laundry.

“Can’t you at least get under the blankets before you pass out?” Senga teases, and Kitayama realizes he must have drifted off. Senga is sitting up, tugging at blankets, and Kitayama lies there and lets him do as he will. When Senga does manage to free them and pulls them over both of them, Kitayama sighs happily, already mostly back to sleep.

“Thanks,” he manages, yawning.

“Rest up,” Senga tells him as he slides in close enough that Kitayama can rest his head on Senga’s shoulder. “Because in the morning I’m totally going to take advantage of you.”

“Yes, Ken-chan-senpai,” Kitayama agrees, and he falls asleep to the sound of exasperated laughter.

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