Baka6, Epic

Title: Epic [Shintarou/Juri]
Rating/Warnings: Hard R
Summary: The only thing more serious than Juri’s crush on Shintarou is how Shintarou doesn’t seem to understand anything about it.
AN: Written for JE FQF 2014, for . This fic was almost as big a struggle as Juri’s confession due to life disaster.


Juri’s crush on Shintarou is epic, legendary, the stuff that 600-plus chapter mangas are made out of. It’s gone on so long that it’s got more anniversaries than any unit debuted after JUMP, and it’s so obvious that even tiny, eleven-year-old Hayashi Ren pats Juri on the hand and tells him to hang in there.

“Love is tough,” he says sympathetically, and Juri shoos him off while biting down on a couple choice curses, because seriously Hayashi Ren for fuck’s sake.

Frustratingly the only thing more legendary than Juri’s crush is Shintarou’s obliviousness. He’s called Juri his best friend forever at this point, would do anything Juri asked him without question, and would fight anybody any day of the week for talking shit about Juri. Now that Shintarou is a giant that’s less hilarious than when he was twelve, but it still makes Juri smile. They haven’t bothered with an extra futon during sleepovers in years, and Shintarou stole Juri’s first kiss when Juri was fifteen and Shintarou was over-excited about getting to sing with Hip Hop JUMP, a new song just for them.

Jesse, who was standing right there when it happened, still rags on him about that, for letting Shintarou steal his firsts without managing to get his feelings across, but Juri doesn’t have the energy to get worked up about it after all this time. It’s just the way things are, the way they’ll always be. If Shintarou is a moron, then Juri is twice the moron for being in love with him. And anyway, there isn’t anybody else Juri would have given his first kiss to, so it’s fine.

Or at least, it used to be fine. Slowly over time, it’s gotten less fine, Juri’s feelings threatening to choke him or sitting like a rock in his stomach. The ugly moments used to be fleeting and far between, but now sometimes they last for days at a time, Juri having no idea what to do to bridge the gap to Shintarou, to make him understand. The worst part is how doubt has started to creep in that Shintarou really does understand exactly what’s going on, because as much as they hassle him, he isn’t that big a moron. If Shintarou does know and things are still like this, Juri thinks sometimes that must be his answer already and what’s the point of humiliating himself?

“What’s the point of anything?” he asks, sprawled on his back on his brother’s couch and looking up at him with the saddest eyes. Today everything seems hard and Juri feels like way too much of a middle child to be at home.

Koki switches his wiimote to his other hand to pat Juri’s hair, the kinks of Juri’s perm bunched up against the side of his leg. “There there, fourth son. Go get some ice cream or a beer or something, cheer up.”

“Ice cream definitely won’t fix anything,” Juri snaps, and he knows Koki can’t know that’s kind of a sore spot, but today when Shintarou leaned over and took a bite off the top of Juri’s ice cream cone and then casually licked all the white off his lower lip, Juri almost melted down completely right there in 31 Flavors.

Koki raises an eyebrow and takes a longer long down at Juri’s face. “Are you going through the sad phase again? You can’t, okay, because Subaru’s having the sad phase right now and one of you is unbearable enough. You already did puberty, quit it.”

“It’s not puberty, asshole!” Juri curls up on his side so the his face is pressed into the back of the couch and wishes it were puberty, wishes it harder than anything because then at least it would end eventually. “You’re the worst brother ever.”

“Aw, come on,” Koki protests, reaching for Juri’s shoulder but forgetting the wiimote is still tethered to his wrist. He ends up bopping Juri right on the head with it, making Juri yelp. “Sorry, sorry!”

Juri sits up, rubbing his head, and flops against the back of the couch with a huff. “It’s fucking Shintarou.”

“You’re fucking Shintarou?” Koki asks, wrinkling his nose a little.

“No, I’m not! Even that probably wouldn’t fix it!” Juri knows he’s yelling but he can’t stop, and actually this is a lot like puberty all over again. “I could probably throw him on the ground and ride him all the way to the horizon and he still wouldn’t understand anything!”

“Thanks for THAT mental image,” Koki protests. He reaches over to pull Juri into a hug, grip tightening when Juri squirms. Juri goes limp after a couple seconds’ worth of struggle and Koki rubs soothing circles on his back and says “yosh, yosh,” like Juri is a skittish pet.

“Everything hurts,” Juri complains helplessly, cheek pressed against his brother’s shoulder. When he was younger, he always thought Koki could fix anything, and right now he’s ready to believe in whatever. “Make it stop.”

“You know you have to tell him, right?” Koki says. Juri whines and tries to curl himself into a smaller ball. “Nothing will change unless you do. You should have told him eons ago already.”

“I don’t know how.” Juri heaves a sigh. “I’ll mess it all up and still have to see him at work and everyone will hate me and then I’ll have to kill myself.”

“To be honest,” Koki says reflectively, “I’m more than a little surprised none of those other morons you hang around with has told Shintarou themselves just to put you out of your misery. What’s up with that?”

“They like watching me suffer.”

Koki laughs. “It is kind of entertaining.”

“Don’t pick on me, I’m sad,” Juri tells him. “He probably likes girls anyway.”

“Good, because you’re being a gigantic girl right now,” Koki says. “Want me to role-play with you? I’ll be Shintarou, look, oh, Juri, your biceps are so—OW!”

“Asshole,” Juri accuses, but he’s laughing a little as he squirms out of Koki’s grip. “He’s gonna say no.”

“He might say yes.” Koki flicks Juri’s forehead hard, making Juri whine at him. “Don’t give up before it starts, okay? You’re a Tanaka, we’re irresistible. Just ask Dad. Why do you think there’s five of us?”

“Ewwwwwww,” Juri groans, and Koki tells him it serves him right for earlier when Juri made him think about his baby brother doing it.

He knows Koki is right, that everybody is right, and that he won’t stop feeling like this until he somehow gets an answer out of Shintarou one way or the other. It still takes him more than a week to work up the courage to try, though. Every time Shintarou comes within a couple feet of Juri, all Juri can think about is losing his best friend, fear twisting his stomach into a tight knot.

“You okay?” Shintarou asks, peering into Juri’s face. Juri wonders vaguely when Shintarou’s eyelashes got so long. “You’re being weird.”

“I don’t feel good,” Juri mumbles, which is true and a lie at the same time. He doesn’t elaborate, knowing Shintarou will assume he means physically, and it’s cheating but Juri feels like that’s okay when Shintarou presses a hand to his forehead. It’s so warm, and all Juri wants is to lean into that touch.

“You don’t feel warm,” Shintarou says. “But your arms are kind of goosebumpy. Want my hoodie?” Shintarou strips it off from around his waist without waiting for an answer and has Juri zipped up into it before Juri can so much as fake cough. “Better?”

The hoodie smells like Shintarou, making Juri’s chest ache pleasantly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t get sick, we have shows!” Shintarou scolds, and Juri nods meekly. He buries his face a little deeper into the hoodie as if he really is cold and not just sniffing it like a complete creeper.

Juri’s white lie results in having Shintarou’s attention for the rest of the afternoon, his eyes on Juri every time Juri looks up, making Juri is okay and not fainting or anything. The attention makes warmth bloom in Juri’s chest every time he catches Shintarou looking. Not like he needed any more proof of how bad he’s got it, but if he did, this would probably be the last straw.

“Can I talk to you?” Juri asks at the end of practice, before one of the others can snag Shintarou’s attention “Alone?”

“Uh…” Shintarou glances around at the dozen and a half people in their immediate area. “Probably not.”

Rolling his eyes, Juri grabs Shintarou by the wrist and out into the hallway. It takes a couple turns in the hallway, but eventually he turns up a corner that is pretty far from the changing rooms and where no one is particularly likely to show up. Juri takes a deep breath and tries to pull himself together, Shintarou staring at him curiously.

Juri doesn’t even know where to start. “Do you ever like people? You know, like like.”

“Sure?” Shintarou’s voice rises like it’s a question. “I guess so.”

“Girls?” Juri asks. “Or…or what?”

“Um,” Shintarou starts, but Juri interrupts him right away, his nerves already threatening to choke him.

“Because the thing is, I like you.”

“I know that.” Shintarou is frowning now, brows knit together. “You’re my best friend, I like you t—”

No,” Juri cuts in sharply. He tries to calm himself down, at least not to shout, but it isn’t really working. “Not like that. It’s more like I’m actually in love with you. I want to kiss you. I want you to hug me really tightly and not let go. I want to take you home and push you down on my bed and climb on top. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Shintarou nods, eyes very wide and face a little pale. Juri waits for him to say something, anything, but all Shintarou does is fidget nervously, and after the longest minute of Juri’s life, he can’t take it anymore. The look of mild panic on Shintarou’s face is more than answer enough.

“Sorry,” Juri says, stripping off Shintarou’s hoodie and shoving it back into his hands. “I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. Never mind about it.”

Juri turns and gets out of there as fast as he can go without seeming like he’s running away like the jilted lover that he actually is. He might even manage to say goodbye to some people he runs into, although he isn’t sure. It’s all a blur until he’s sitting on the train alone and it finally sinks in that Shintarou is going to just be his best friend, always, and it feels like a fist is crushing his heart. Juri spends the rest of the ride naming all the Pokemon that he can from Red to Platinum as a distraction so that he doesn’t get paparazzi’ed crying on a train in public. Once he finally gets home, it’s all Juri can do to shuffle past his family as quickly as possible.

“I don’t feel good,” he repeats his lie from earlier, and he must look it because they all leave him alone to shut himself in his room. Juri flops onto his bed, face buried in his pillow, and stays that way until morning.

The good news is that Juri has the day off the next day. The bad news is that means there’s nothing to distract him from his feelings. Eventually Juri ends up at the kitchen table with Subaru, who might be the only person in Japan sadder than Juri at the moment. When their mother comes back from shopping, she finds both of them just lying there with their cheeks pressed against the tabletop, Subaru’s 0% complete summer homework on the table between them.

“Are you two kidding me?” she demands, sitting the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. “Subaru, I told you not to reinfect your brother! Just look at him! If Hyouga starts moping around here too, I’m going to murder you.”

“Good,” Subaru says dully. “Life’s a farce anyway. A tragic pantomime!”

“Your social life will certainly be a tragic pantomime if I don’t see some homework in the very near future,” his mother informs him crisply, whacking him over the back of the head with a couple letters from the mail for emphasis.

“Maybe we’re all so sad because you’re so abusive,” Juri says, drawing his mother’s attention and regretting it immediately.

“Koki said you were a mess, but I thought he was just being melodramatic.” Tanaka-san eyes Juri critically. “So I guess the confession didn’t go so well.”

“Confession?” Subaru perks up slightly, every bit as shameless a gossip as either Koki or their mother.

“Oh, get out of here, get!” Their mother shoos Subaru out of his chair and shoves the math book into his hands on the way, making him whine even harder than he was already doing. She sits down in the vacated chair and presses the back of her hand to Juri’s forehead like she’s taking his temperature. “So what happened?”

Juri shrugs. He isn’t sure he can get the words out to explain even if he wanted to.

“Did Shintarou-kun tell you he didn’t return your feelings?” Tanaka-san prompts.

“He didn’t have to. He made this face.” Juri does a wide-eyed impression of Shintarou’s panicked face, and Tanaka-san smothers a noise which might have been a laugh.

“But you didn’t talk about it properly?” she asks.

“What’s there to talk about?” Juri loves his mother but he wishes she would go away and just let him suffer in peace.

“I think I can help.” Tanaka-san pats Juri’s head and then shoves at his shoulder, making him whine. “Go wash your hands, you’re helping me make dinner. And go change, you can’t sulk in your pajamas all day long.”

“Food doesn’t fix everything, you know,” Juri grumbles at her, but she raises and eyebrow and Juri does what she says.

When Juri comes back into the kitchen, his mother is closing her phone and tucking it back into her pocket. Juri doesn’t think anything of it for a while, busy chopping cabbage and crushing ginger. He’s just dumping his ingredients into the mixing bowl when he hears the front door open and a familiar voice calling hello.

“We’re in here, dear!” his mother calls, and Shintarou appears in the doorway a few seconds later, looking sheepish and confused.

“My mom said that everyone was sick of my face and dropped me off here to eat dinner with you guys?” Shintarou rubs the back of his head. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

“You didn’t!” Juri hisses. His mother elbows him hard, making him grunt.

“You’re always welcome here, come on in,” she tells Shintarou. “You boys can fold the gyoza for me. Properly,” she warns both of them, her face saying she isn’t fucking around. “Your father’s already on my case for using Koyama-san’s recipe instead of his mother’s. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shintarou and Juri both say. Plonking the bowl of gyoza filling down on the counter between them, Tanaka-san rinses her hands off in the sink and then goes to harass Subaru about his homework.

Juri starts to work in silence, not caring if Shintarou feels awkward or whatever, and after a minute Shintarou does the same. Folding gyoza is tedious but the repetition of it is soothing, and the tension in Juri’s shoulders starts to ease after the first dozen or so. They’ve filled one tray and are staring on a second when Shintarou clears his throat suddenly, making Juri jump a little.

“So.” Shintarou’s voice cracks and he has to clear his throat. “About yesterday…”

“Oh, don’t,” Juri says miserably, keeping his eyes on his hands. “Just forget about it.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to answer, though,” Shintarou says. “Who confesses and then runs away?”

“People who already know the answer.” Juri lets his hands drop to the counter, stretching his fingers to crack the flour and water turning to glue on his skin. “You don’t have to say, okay? In fact, please don’t.”

“Would you just look at me? Geez.” Juri drags his eyes up, and Shintarou looks uncomfortable but determined. “I could say yes, did you ever think of that?”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Juri orders, stomping down firmly on the flicker of hope in his chest. “It’s not working. You don’t feel what I feel, obviously, so just say and get it over with.”

“Maybe I don’t, but there isn’t anybody I like more, you know?” Shintarou shifts a little when Juri stares at him. “Don’t look so shocked, I gave you my first kiss and everything.”

Juri has to close his eyes for a few seconds, trying to get his equilibrium back. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Why are you saying that stuff?”

“Because it sounded nice, some of the stuff you said yesterday.” Shintarou nibbles on his lower lip nervously and Juri can’t pull his eyes away. “It sounded good. The kissing, and the squeezing, and the…um…I was actually wondering, when you said on top, did you mean—”

“Shin!” Juri snaps, cheeks on fire.

“You started it,” Shintarou points out, even grinning a little, that asshole. “Can I hug you or what?”

Shintarou’s arms are around Juri before he can answer, strong and tight and perfect, and Juri buries his face in Shintarou’s shoulder and breathes in as deeply as he can in case he’s dreaming this crap.

“Tighter,” Juri orders, voice muffled, but Shintarou obeys anyway, squishing Juri against him until he’s breathless from it. Juri still doesn’t exactly understand what’s happening here, but it feels good, so much better than he’s felt since yesterday, since ages ago actually.

“I think I accept your confession,” Shintarou says. “So can I have my second kiss please? I’ve been waiting like three and a half years for it.” There’s a small pause. “Also I just got raw pork all over the back of your shirt, oops.”

Juri doesn’t care even a little. He leans up to give Shintarou his kiss and they bang noses before their mouths meet. Much like doing anything with Shintarou, kissing him is awkward and on Shintarou’s end mostly made of brute force, but Juri likes knowing that Shintarou is telling the truth about not kissing anybody else but him. It makes him regret, just a little, the kisses he’s had in between.

“Easy,” Juri murmurs. “And close your eyes, it’s weird to watch.” Shintarou does what Juri says, trusting him as usual, and maybe Shintarou’s third kiss isn’t perfect either but they can work on it.

“GROSS!” Subaru hollers with delight, making Juri and Shintarou spring apart, both of them blushing. Juri’s mother is watching them smugly when Juri turns to look, and Juri wishes the kitchen floor would open up and swallow him.

“It’s the folding that does it, keeps your hands busy,” Tanaka-san says to Subaru, like she’s telling him the secret recipe for heartbreaking. “I had to make your father fold like five dozen of those things before he got the nerve up to propose.”

“Moooooom,” Subaru and Juri both whine. Tanaka-san just laughs at their pain and then tells Shintarou to take off his shirt.

“For the laundry, idiots,” she says when Shintarou looks scandalized. “But go up to Juri’s room to get a new one and if nobody sees either of you for a half-hour or so, there won’t be anything suspicious about that at all.”

At dinner eventually, Shintarou’s embarrassment is long forgotten in the face of food, while Juri kicks Subaru and Hyouga under the table every time one of them makes an obscene hand gesture. Subaru’s in particular are a little creative.

“You don’t even know what that one means,” their mother scoffs when she catches them at it.

“Would you stop encouraging them?” their father says, mildly exasperated at being surrounded by complete insanity, but also resigned. “And these are not my mother’s gyoza!”

“Hey,” Shintarou looks up from stuffing his face suddenly, “does this mean I get to come to Tanaka Bro Movie Night?”

“No!” Subaru and Hyouga answer immediately. Shintarou gives a “Tcht” of irritation.

“We don’t need your loser movie night!” Juri retorts, sticking his tongue out. “We’re gonna have our own movie nights, and they’re gonna be rated NC-17, if you know what I mean!”

“I’m not old enough to see anything over R,” Shintarou says seriously, making Tanaka-san choke on her gyoza laughing. Juri puts his head in his hands while his brothers and father exchange a look which says that Juri deserves every second of this.

Shintarou ends up spending the night, despite Juri’s mother’s announcement in front of his brothers that she’s too busy to wash his sheets the next day, so watch it. Juri has never been happier to shut the door with his family on the other side in his whole life. He flops onto his unmade bed, exhausted from today’s emotional roller coaster. Shintarou sits down on the edge of Juri’s bed and pats the top of his head. Juri makes an encouraging noise, and after a moment’s hesitation, Shintarou’s fingers go from patting his hair to stroking through it.

“Feels nice,” he says, which makes Juri snort at him.

“Isn’t that my line?” Juri asks. Shintarou shrugs, awkward and sheepish and someday Juri will figure out why he finds that so appealing. For the moment he just holds out his arms and hopes that Shintarou will figure it out without Juri having to say the words out loud.

Just this one time, that works out for him. Shintarou turns so he’s half-lying on Juri, propped up on his elbows so he’s hovering above Juri without crushing him. Truthfully Juri wouldn’t care if Shintarou did crush him a little, but he’s happy enough to wind arms around Shintarou’s neck and pull himself up the few centimeters for a kiss.

It’s different than the other kisses, not full of confusion and nerves like the first ones in the kitchen, not rushed like the ones in his bedroom after when they’d come up to change. These kisses are slow and steal Juri’s breath, and it feels like the half-broken heart he’s been living with for ages might be starting to heal. Juri runs fingers through the back of Shintarou’s hair, then down Shintarou’s back, exploring the curves and dips of Shintarou’s muscles. Juri wants to touch him everywhere, now that he’s allowed, touch all the places that he’s only seen every time they changed together when he had to keep himself from looking too long or too hard.

“Oh,” Shintarou says softly when Juri touches a patch near the small of his back. Juri does it again more deliberately, fingers dragging over the thin fabric of Shintarou’s borrowed T-shirt, and Shintarou’s choked noise makes all the hairs on Juri’s arm stand up. Juri kisses him again, more roughly, trying to get a grip on himself.

It’s impossible. His skin feels hot everywhere Shintarou is touching him, and all Juri wants is to strip off their clothes and to be skin-to-skin with Shintarou, to have Shintarou’s weight settle between Juri’s thighs so that he can wrap arms and legs around him and never let go. Juri wants way too much, so he tears his mouth away from Shintarou’s and turns his head to the side, trying to take deep enough breaths to calm down.

“Are you okay?” Shintarou asks, voice so close to Juri’s ear. Juri knows he isn’t doing it on purpose, but Shintarou’s low, concerned voice does not help Juri calm down at all. Then Shintarou licks at Juri’s second lobe piercing, and Juri’s whole body tightens with want and surprise. “Sorry, should I not do that? I just wanted to.”

“If feels really good,” Juri tries to explain, having trouble getting the words out. Why is it so embarrassing to say what he wants? Shintarou licks at the piercing again, a little harder, trailing his tongue up from the middle piercing to the high one, and Juri comes so close to begging Shintarou to fuck him that he can taste the words on his tongue.

He definitely can’t do that, he reminds himself sharply. Shintarou had his second kiss in the kitchen barely four hours ago, for sure he’s not ready to give up such a serious first just like that. Juri closes his hands into fists, struggling to think through all the want.

“Hey,” Shintarou says, frowning down at Juri’s stiff posture. “Can’t you relax? You’re giving me a complex.”

“I’m giving you a complex?” Juri demands. His voice comes out snappish, and he feels immediately sorry when Shintarou’s frown deepens. “Sorry, it’s…you know, I’m…” It’s too much to explain, so instead Juri grabs for one of Shintarou’s hands and pushes it down. Shintarou’s eyes go wide when he feels just how much Juri wants him. “I can’t help it.”

“If you tell me what you want, I’ll do it,” Shintarou says, hand staying right where it is. “Anything you want’s okay with me.”

“Oh god, don’t say that.” Juri’s hips are already rocking up into Shintarou’s touch, and he doesn’t bother fighting it. “You definitely shouldn’t.”

“It’s you, though,” Shintarou tells him, like obviously. “It doesn’t matter when you get my firsts, since they’re all yours anyway.”

“Spoken like a true virgin,” Juri grumbles to hide how deep Shintarou’s easy trust hits him. Shintarou doesn’t bother arguing with him, but sits up and strips his shirt off and then reaches for Juri’s. Juri has to sit up to pull the shirt free, shivering a little when Shintarou surprises him with a kiss as soon as the shirt is gone. Juri whimpers into the kiss when Shintarou’s warm hands slide down his sides.

“Tell me what to do,” Shintarou says seriously. “Don’t wait anymore.”

Juri closes his eyes, giving up whatever shreds of decency he was hanging onto for Shintarou’s sake. “Get naked and we’ll see what happens.”

Shintarou stands up to strip off his pants, then it turns into an accidental striptease when Shintarou hesitates, asking if Juri is just going to stare at him like that. He’s certainly worth looking at, even ignoring how cute his sudden bout of shyness is, his arms and chest already filling out in a way that makes Juri jealous just as much as he wants to touch them.

“I want to see you too,” Shintarou says, reaching for Juri’s zipper. He doesn’t have much trouble tugging them off Juri’s skinny hips, and Juri absolutely understands Shintarou’s urge to squirm when Shintarou looks him up and down slowly. But then Shintarou grins at him, looking perfectly pleased with what he’s getting.

“Don’t grin at me like I’m some awesome bargain you just shopped for,” Juri says, even though Shintarou’s grin makes warmth spread through his chest.

“I don’t even care that you’re damaged goods,” Shintarou assures him, and Juri throws a pillow at his head. “I can touch you wherever, right?”

“Just where are you planning on touching?” Juri asks suspiciously, watching Shintarou crawl back onto the bed next to him.

“Like I said, wherever.” Shintarou reaches out to touch several fingers to Juri’s bare shoulder, drawing them down Juri’s chest, watching for Juri’s reaction. He does it methodically, working down to Juri’s waist in a swath, then lifting his hand back to Juri’s shoulders to start again. By the time he’s mapped out all of Juri’s good spots, Juri is practically shaking with how badly he wants Shintarou to touch his cock already.

“Please,” he finally says, wincing at the neediness of his own voice. Shintarou just grins at him again, his eyes much darker than before.

“Here?” Shintarou asks, wrapping a hand around Juri’s cock, finally. Juri flops down onto his back in a wordless plea for more, lifting his hips into the touch. Shintarou tightens his grip and strokes a few times, watching openly. “Like that?”

“More,” Juri asks, rolling onto his side. “Come here.”

Shintarou lies down beside Juri, still stroking him, and Juri edges over until they can kiss. They’re close enough that he can feel Shintarou getting hard against his own hip, and he fumbles without looking until he’s got his hand on Shintarou in return. Like all his other parts, Shintarou’s cock is thick and solidly built, and if anybody’s going to have a complex here, it’s definitely going to be Juri.

But it’s hard to care about that when Shintarou’s hand is still stroking him, Shintarou making soft noises that sound almost surprised right in Juri’s ear. Juri focuses his attention on what he’s doing, thumbing Shintarou’s tip, and Shintarou’s next noise is definitely surprised.

“What’s there to be surprised about?” Juri wants to know, chuckling. “You do it to yourself, right?”

“It’s totally different,” Shintarou says, hand falling still on Juri’s cock as he closes his eyes and focuses on his own. “Mmm. But that’s not all you want, right? If it isn’t, you’d better say.”

“I don’t mind this,” Juri hedges. It’s true; watching Shintarou explore each new thing is almost as hot as Shintarou’s hands being actually on him. He could be happy with this, he tells himself, enough to be patient for a bit longer.
He blinks when Shintarou pouts up at him, interrupting his thoughts.

“You said you wanted to climb on top, right?” Shintarou asks. “Where’s all your big talk now, huh?”

“I’m trying to hold back for your sake, you idiot,” Juri tells him, but then he has an idea suddenly. It’s not quite what he’d been fantasizing about, but it’s close enough for now. Without telling Shintarou what he’s doing, Juri scrambles over top of him and straddles his hips. He settles too low to ride him, but high enough that his cock can rub up against Shintarou’s. “Good enough?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Shintarou answers, voice a little awed as he looks up at Juri over top of him. “Wow, you look good up there.”

“You look good down there,” Juri agrees, and he means it with every fibre of his being. He is definitely going to ride Shintarou just like this, he promises himself, but for now he uses both hands to cup their cocks against each other and strokes them together.

“Oh wow,” Shintarou says again, arching up against Juri’s weight. He reaches up to help, his larger hand almost circling them on its own, and it feels amazing to Juri.

He tells Shintarou to keep doing that, exactly that, and lets go to brace his hands on his thighs instead. Juri rocks his hips the same way he would as if he were actually on Shintarou’s cock, and the surprised moan Shintarou gives says he understands exactly what Juri is doing. Juri doesn’t even bother to shush Shintarou, far past caring who might hear them through the walls. Shintarou’s eyes are glued to their cocks sliding against each other, flicking up to Juri’s face once in a while, and Juri keeps going even when his thighs start to ache, not wanting to break that connection.

“I’m close,” Shintarou warns, panting. “Should I—”

“Do it,” Juri orders, watching avidly as Shintarou shudders and spurts over his fingers, spilling drops of white halfway up his flushed chest. He looks so good like that, flushed and disheveled and messy, that it’s totally pornographic, and Juri drinks in the sight greedily after imagining it for so long. The reality is definitely better.

When Shintarou blinks his eyes open and looks up with an expression like Juri is better than Ultraman and sushi combined, Juri almost follows him right over the edge. Instead he falls down onto Shintarou and kisses him fiercely, the ache of his cock completely forgettable in the face of Shintarou’s shivers as he cuddles Juri tight against his skin with strong arms.

Shintarou rolls them over suddenly, which Juri doesn’t find that surprising and enjoys quite a bit, but he is surprised when Shintarou’s kisses begin to trail down and don’t stop at his neck or even his nipples.

“What?” Juri asks, too fuzzy from lust to get a whole sentence out. “Are you…”

“I can, right?” Shintarou asks, lifting his head to watch Juri’s face. His lips are pink and wet from kissing, hair sticking up all over, and Juri says yes, whatever Shintarou wants, yes.

Juri’s tip is wet already, so Shintarou hesitates before he licks the tip tentatively. It would be adorable, if it weren’t the worst tease on the earth, and Juri resists the urge to either giggle at him or demand he hurry it up. He must not object to the taste too much, since Shintarou wraps lips back around Juri’s tip and slides his mouth down carefully.

“Shin, fuck,” Juri curses, the sight of Shintarou swallowing his cock something that he’ll probably jerk off over for the rest of his life.

He knows he should warn him as Shintarou tries taking him in more deeply, but Juri finds it weirdly amusing to have Shintarou cough and pull back, eyeing Juri’s cock like it’s some kind of rival. Juri reaches down with one hand and Shintarou jumps a little at the first touch, then relaxes when all Juri does is stroke his hair gently.

“Use your hand for the bottom,” Juri advises. He groans softly when Shintarou’s strong fingers close back around his cock. It’s almost too much right away when combined with the wet suction of Shintarou’s mouth, as unpracticed as Shintarou is. Letting go of Shintarou’s hair, Juri wraps a hand around Shintarou’s and shows him how fast to jack him off, how tightly.

“Hmmm,” Shintarou says thoughtfully, mouth full, and the accidental vibration of it makes Juri gasp Shintarou’s name desperately. Quick on the uptake, Shintarou does it again as he slides his mouth down, watching for the spot where it makes Juri squirm the hardest.

“Leggo,” Juri tries to warn, barely sure whether he’s even saying words or not. “Gonna come.”

Shintarou pulls back just in time to avoid taking Juri’s release right in the face, and not that he won’t explore that option later, but for now Juri’s brain whites out as Shintarou’s hand squeezes tight around him until he’s spent, his own stomach just as much a mess as Shintarou’s was earlier.

When he peels his eyes open, Shintarou is making a face at his hand that sends Juri into a fit of giggles. They only get worse when Shintarou narrows his eyes and wipes his hand off on Juri’s thigh, like that’s some kind of punishment or something.

“It’s my stuff, I don’t care if it’s on me,” he points out through more snickers.

“Yeah? What if I rub mine on you?” Shintarou wants to know, clearly expecting a grossed out reaction from Juri.

“Fine with me,” Juri says blithely. He’s comfortable with the Tanaka reputation for being kind of a freak. “Next time you can get me as messy as you want.”

Shintarou’s mouth opens but no words come out, as if he just realized how hot that would actually be. Juri just giggles at him some more. Maybe it sucked waiting all that time, but if Shintarou’s face is any indication, teaching him all these new things is going to make it absolutely worth the wait.

“Get down here and kiss me,” Juri orders lazily, and Shintarou obeys. The heat of his skin feels wonderful against Juri’s tired muscles, but more than that, it’s the way Shintarou keeps touching Juri curiously that relaxes him. It’s the reassurance that this is really happening, Juri supposes, that Shintarou might actually have feelings of his own that Juri isn’t forcing on him. Even when they settle, Shintarou is still rubbing the palm of his hand over Juri’s back in circles, slow and regular.

“How do we sleep?” Shintarou asks, bring Juri back from the half-doze he’s slipped into. “Should I put my shirt back on? Or…” Shintarou trails off uncertainly.

“Don’t ever put your shirt back on,” Juri murmurs, rubbing his cheek against Shintarou’s bare shoulder. “You don’t need it for work anyway, nobody will notice.”

“Just what kind of idol do you think I am?” Shintarou demands in fake indignation. “Just because I pole dance sometimes.” Juri snorts a laugh, and after a second Shintarou joins in. “Seriously, man, what if your mom comes in here?”

“Serve her right for meddling,” Juri declares. “I like touching your skin. Is that okay? Plus it’ll be a hassle if we go again.”

“That would be really, really okay,” Shintarou says with feeling, and Juri doesn’t ask which part he’s so interested in. Hopefully both.

After some fussing, Shintarou rolls onto his side like he usually sleeps. Juri throws an arm over Shintarou’s waist and curls up as close as he can without his breath tickling Shintarou’s neck too much. Shintarou is out like a light almost immediately. Juri takes a lot longer, his brain refusing to stop thinking through the day over and over, but he doesn’t mind so much with Shintarou’s steady breath making his arm rise and fall.

It’s barely light when Juri startles awake, his confusion heightened by the fact that there’s an arm tight over his chest and something poking him in the thigh. After a few blinks, Juri realizes that it’s Shintarou leaning over him and not some extraordinarily bedheaded lion. For a horrible second, Juri thinks it’s one of their normal sleepovers and that he dreamed the whole thing.

“Hey,” Shintarou hisses in his usual fail-whisper. “Can we…y’know.”

Juri throws arms around Shintarou’s neck and hugs him tight enough that Shintarou wheezes a little, relief a sharp ache in his chest.

“That’s a yes, right?” Shintarou asks, bewildered, and Juri says yes, yes, a thousand times yes. “I dunno about a thousand times, I could do it maybe twice.”

“You’re an idiot,” Juri tells him, which means more like I love you. But he already told Shintarou that anyway. Shintarou demands they turn on the light so he can see all the good stuff, and Juri shows him what a decent blowjob is like.

In the morning, Juri’s biggest problem in the whole world is that Shintarou looks exactly like he’s finally gotten laid and everybody, from Juri’s mother right down to Hayashi Ren, can tell who put that stupid grin on Shintarou’s face.

“Who keeps letting you in here?” Juri demands, shooing Hayashi out of their changing area. When he turns around, Hokuto and Jesse are leering at him knowingly, Taiga is looking half-proud and half-scandalized, and Kouchi just looks resigned.

“Nowhere I might walk in on you at work,” he warns sternly, and Shintarou nods attentively. “Not on any surface I have to touch!”

“You don’t exactly touch the mirrors, though,” Jesse points out helpfully, and Taiga calls him a sexual deviant. Jesse just scoffs. “Like you never fantasize about your favorite senpai and the mirrors. Ohhh, Fujigaya-kun~! Ow!” He cuts off when both Taiga and Kouchi hit him at the same time.

“No,” Juri tells Shintarou, who is looking thoughtful like he’s just realized the sexual applications of mirrors. He wonders if he’ll ever stop finding that weird innocence of Shintarou’s appealing, but he figures probably not. Goodness knows how anybody could still have any innocence left with Yasui hanging around. “Well, not yet, anyway.”

“You and your big promises,” Shintarou scoffs. He eyes Juri critically, like he isn’t sure Juri will be worth all the fuss that Hokuto and Jesse are making behind him. “Are you gonna live up to all of that?”

“It’ll be epic,” Juri promises, sealing it with a kiss and not caring how many of their idiot friends hoot at them, just this once. It’s not a hard thing to promise, since Juri already feels like it’s true.

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