Matsumoto Takanori couldn't remember what it felt like to sleep alone anymore. He could no longer remember the whisper of the cold bed sheets against his skin, missing the warmth of another. He could no longer remember the emptiness of his seemingly oversized bed. These things were already foreign to him, the occurrences of such a long time ago. It felt like an eternity ago, a different lifetime, as if it happened to a different Matsumoto Takanori.
For as long as he could remember, he had always had a warm body pressed against his side, their naked limbs tangled together like the branches of trees planted too close to each other. Their every breath would mingle before tickling each other¡¯s heated skin, breathing faint ghosted whispers of love and affection on each other's flesh. Takanori loved the feeling of reassurance that stirred inside him every time he felt the taunt skin of the man he loved mixed in the grasp of the bed sheets, the solidity of another being sunken into the soft mattress. Takanori sometimes wondered if he could still sleep without the feeling of another warm body.
It was never just any warm body, it was always just one in particular. Suzuki Akira's.
That night was the first night in a long time that the mattress sunk under a single person¡¯s weight. As Takanori lay there alone, wearing only Akira's oversized T-shirt, tracing the creased covers where Akira usually lay, smelling the faint scent caught in the folds, he pondered the possibility of getting some shut eye that night.
Akira had some emergency family issue in Kanagawa, forcing him to catch the first train there to deal with it. Takanori had suggested that he go with him as well, but Akira refused saying that he didn't want to burden the little one. And now, lying all alone in the cold and seemingly harder bed all by himself, Takanori traced his own lips with his fingers, remember the gentle kiss they shared at the door, only to end to Akira pulling away and promising in reassuring whispers that he would be back soon.
His hand slid down his neck, tracing the veins down to his own jutting collarbones, like little hills jutting out of the smooth pale canvas that was his body hidden beneath Akira's giant tshirt.
His small hands continued to slide down his clothed body, his fingers catching momentarily in the ripples of soft cloth. Fingers paused at nipples and teased them through the fabric until they were hard. He flicked at them, and rolled them between his fingers the same way Akira would have if he was there with him, drawing little moans out of the little vocalist. Takanori missed the heavy gasped breaths that usually rang through his ear and the lips that would press against his skin, trailing gentle wet kisses along his body. He especially missed the long calloused fingers that would walk down his collar bones, trail down his stomach, concluding its journey below the younger man's navel, only to wrap around his arousal.
He could feel himself getting hard while he continued to run his hands over his nipples, abusing the little pink nubs that made him moan and shift on the bed sheets. When that became no longer enough to satisfy him, his hands slid further down, until he gripped the edge of Akira's t-shirt, and pushed it up until his cock was fully exposed in the dimly lit room.
He grabbed Akira's pillow from the empty side of the bed, and shoved it under his head to get a more comfortable position. He lay on his back, legs bent and spread apart, hands slipping up and down his lean torso caressing his own soft skin until they reached his cock that was standing at attention.
He took a deep breath. Sure, he touched himself during lives, kneading himself through his tight stage outfits, but that was mostly for the pleasure of the screaming fans, and less for himself. The way he masturbated in front of their preying eyes was a less intimate action, unlike the actions he performed alone or the private shows he put on for Akira. Akira enjoyed watching him play with himself, but loved pounding into his little lover even more when his strained patience would finally give out.
Takanori traced the pads of his fingers along his shaft, tracing a vein gently, lightly, so soft as if not touching it at all. His fingers would begin its path on his balls, fondling them before snaked their way up the shaft to swirl soft circles on the head. It sent shivers up his spine, bringing out little jerks of hips and clenching of toes that made him yearn for more than just touches that were barely equivalent to whispers.
Takanori closed his eyes, imagining the soft skin of the taller man who usually accompanied him in the bed, his dyed blond hair threaded through his fingers, as he fucked him into the mattress of their bed. The way his face was showered in bliss as he was finally thrown over the edge and released his seed inside his shorter lover. Takanori let out a loud moan as images of their previous nights invaded his mind, while his hand moved to massage the underside of his cock. He couldn¡¯t help the groan of Akira¡¯s name that escaped his open gasping mouth.
Takanori gently grazed his nails over his cock, the delightful mixture of pain and pleasure on oversensitive flesh sending shivers down his spine, causing him to thrash occasionally on the covers as certain spots were traced. He missed Akira, and wanted him instead of this temporary replacement that was his hand. He was already so painfully aroused and thinking about his lover was just making it worse.
Finally, he gave into his own desires, wrapping all the delicate fingers of his little hand around his cock and pumped, slowly at first. Beautiful friction was created and the dragging of skin made Takanori gasp and groan with pleasure. Oh how he wished that it wasn¡¯t his hand, but instead the hand of the older man, rough from years and years of playing the bass, or better yet, that hot sensual mouth of his all over his painfully throbbing cock.
He spread his legs apart even more, and quickened his pace. The strangled sounds that escaped him also increased him frequency and volume. It was delicious and he shut his eyes, savouring the feel, imagining the face of his lover behind the darkness of his closed eyelids. He could imagine his face, filled with arousal and hunger for more.
The little vocalist shivered as he felt the familiar heat building in his stomach. He knew he was close. His body was shaking and his cock dripping with precum. His movements became short, fast jerks and he wanted nothing more than the release he knew he was approaching fast.
Takanori gasped, followed by a loud moan of the bassist¡¯s name as he came is him own hand. The jerking motions stopped and his mind went blank. He was in bliss and it felt like he was coming undone in the most pleasant way.
The vocalist lay there panting, his hand still wrapped around his spent shaft, covered in milky whiteness. He just laid there for a minute, catching his breath, before sliding his cum covered hand up his stomach and chest, smearing the whiteness on his smooth creamy skin. He looked at his hand in the dim lamplight, watching as his cum dripped down. He licked his finger gingerly, tasting his own essence on his tongue, before dropping his hand on the seemingly oversized and empty bed beside him and drifting off the sleep.
Clean up would have to wait until morning.
Akira was tired as hell.
He had gone through too much family shit the previous day for his liking, and only managed to catch a few measly hours of sleep on the train back from Kanagawa. He just wanted to sleep, to fall on that soft mattress that had a mingled scent of his little lover and himself, and get some shut eye. He wanted to feel that familiar warmth cuddling next to his side, and listen to his soft gentle breathing as his lullaby.
All he wanted was to sleep.
The sun had just risen over the towering buildings of Tokyo as Akira inserted the key into the door of the apartment he shared with Takanori. His eyes were blurry from lack of sleep and it took several tries for him to get the key into the lock. After hearing the faint click of the mechanism, he entered his quiet apartment and shut the door quietly behind him.
He shed his coat off silently and took off his combat boots. It was early and the younger man was probably still sleeping, tangled in the blankets in their bed. Akira shuffled to the bedroom and the sight that greeted him was definitely not one that he was expecting.
There in the middle of the bed, lay his lover sprawled across the covers on his back, the creases in the messed up bed sheets enveloping him. A head of messy hair lay upon Akira¡¯s pillow and Takanori¡¯s own was discarded by the edge of the bed.
He was completely naked, with a dried erotic trail of cum smeared from his cock up to his chest. His hand was also covered in the white substance. Akira sat down on the edge of the bed, and gently stroked Takanori¡¯s sleeping face, causing the vocalist to stir and crack open his groggy brown eyes. He hadn¡¯t meant to wake up his lover but maybe it was for the better.
Because Akira didn¡¯t feel so tired anymore. All his previous exhaustion had disintegrated the moment he stepped into the room and his eyes ran up Takanori¡¯s body.
At that moment, he had better things he wanted to do with his lover.