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JE Fic: Abstinence, Truths and Digital Versatile Discs (Yamapi/Jin)
Title: Abstinence, Truths and Digital Versatile Discs
Fandom: JE
Pairing: Yamapi/Jin
Rating: R
Disclaimers: Erm, I don't know where this came from. This isn't the Desperate Housewives crossover -- that's still to come! This is just straight-up Pin porn, really. :) Also, yes, the title is an awful parody of Sex, Lies and Videotape. I'm sorry. Oh, and this features some het. Enjoy. ♥
Jin is fifteen. He's gawky around the shoulders and he's awkward when he tries to look self-assured, when he tries to pretend to the girls that he gets blowjobs all the time, and Mariko-chan should be grateful that he's even asking her to suck him off, because probably, he could find himself another girlfriend, one who will.
She relents at this, and he tells her to come around after school. It gives he and Yamapi enough time to set things up.
He's just better looking than Yamapi at that age, that's what it comes down to. Yamapi would really rather be the one getting the blowjob than the one sitting in the wardrobe, like somebody's hopeless kid brother, but he hasn't ever had a girlfriend and it's a fact that doesn't seem likely to change any time soon. Jin closes the door on him and in the darkness, Jin's breathing sounds so loud, even through the wood.
“Relax,” Yamapi says, but the sound is muffled. “She'll be here.”
“I know,” Jin says, but he doesn't sound convinced. When there's a knock on the door, Jin jumps up so fast he hits his head on the light shade.
Yamapi is twenty-one and Jin a bit older than that. Mariko-chan is no longer in the picture. And this is okay, because instead of finding another girlfriend, Jin found himself a boyfriend.
It was bit like eating Brussels sprouts, Yamapi thinks, but he'd never tell Jin that because then Jin would want to know exactly why their sex life was a bit like eating Brussels sprouts. The point is that their sex life started out like eating Brussels sprouts. At first, it was sort of awkward and strange, bodies bumping together and not yielding with a sort of soft shyness, the way women do with their bodies. The sense of competition and the over-excitedness, like dogs. It took a while to get used to how unfamiliar it all was.
It didn't help that for a week or so they never really made it to a bed, so they ended up on all sorts of surfaces and, well, neither of them have great balance. It just made things trickier. It was just that they couldn't slow down, they were so over-excited, like dogs. They're not careful, the way they were with girls, when they were teenagers. They're not delicate, or gentle. They tear each other's clothes off, they pull each other's hair, they grunt, they grab, they bite.
It all sounds like great sex, but on top of a kitchen table or up against a wall, or – it just wasn't very seamless, and until the taste started to feel good, it didn't really work out all that well. Like Brussels sprouts, it took some time to change 'urgh' into 'mmm'.
The inclusion of a bed helped.
The point really is that both of them like Brussels sprouts now, really really like them. They're still not delicate or gentle, but that's because it's only been three weeks and they're still in that stage where they can't stop looking at each other and thinking indecent things, things that often show up in their distracted expressions. Jin finds everything Yamapi does incomprehensibly hot, and so often initiates sex when Yamapi's opening jars of sauce or spinning his car keys around one finger in the morning.
And Yamapi, well, Yamapi basically initiates sex at any point where it isn't dangerous: as long as they're not cooking, basically.
The only problem with their Brussels-sprout-paradise is that in three days, Jin's going to America for six months. This is badly timed, as their enterprises often are, and Yamapi's trying not to think about what it's going to be like without Jin for such a long time, and how they're going to keep the relationship going. They'd never intended this to happen. There'd always been odd moments, in their lives that suggested an abnormal level of tension between them, but neither of them had ever expected to end up at this point.
Mariko-chan is on her knees on the floor and her skirt is a bit hiked up around her shoes, and if Yamapi were any sort of proper teenager he'd be staring at the colour of her underwear. As it is, he doesn't even notice, because he can't tear his eyes away from the way Jin's hands are shaking against her skull.
He's trying to pretend to be nonchalant, hip thrown out, face expectant. But his hands give him away, and maybe she knows that, too. She undoes his trousers for him, because he hasn't a hope, not until his fingers resemble something other than spaghetti. And just as she takes his cock out, her face at once incredulous and nervous, Jin catches Yamapi's eye for a second. He tears it away because he doesn't want to give the game away, but it's enough.
When she puts her mouth on him, Jin makes a strangled sound in his throat, and Yamapi doesn't even think about it. He shifts position on his haunches, jams his clenched fist between the door frame and his crotch and tries not to think about anything as he moves against it. He tries not to think about the friction, about how it isn't enough, how he'd do anything to-
Especially not that. He's supposed to be looking at Mariko-chan, her pink lips stretching around Jin and her eyes searching for encouragement. That's what normal teenage boys wank off to. Only he's not a normal boy. He's in his best friend's wardrobe watching him get a blowjob, as some kind of consolation prize for being unable to get one of his own. He's not normal, he guesses, but there's a line even between that kind of abnormal and the kind of abnormal that is wanking off to the look on your best friend's face rather than the girl on her knees in front of him.
Jin's eyes are lidded and his breath is almost visible. He's thrusting, gently and without rhythm, against Mariko-chan, and she's happy to let him rather than venturing forwards. In a passive and awkward way, they've found something that works and the sound of Jin's voice getting louder and rougher fills the room.
When Jin barks, Yamapi knows it's going to happen, he knows, because he's not even looking at Mariko-chan anymore, he's just listening to Jin. And when he hears Jin come, he comes, and there's nothing normal about that.
In the end, Yamapi never told Jin that he'd wanted to watch Jin, not Mariko-chan.
Not even when Jin brought it up, one drunken evening a few weeks back. Yamapi kept his mouth firmly shut, even as Jin laughed about it, the blowjob he said had kind of sucked, but.
Yamapi snorts, then, feeling as though he was finally on safe ground. “Yeah, right. You still got off on it, idiot. Can't have been that bad.”
“It was alright,” Jin relents, a little. “Wasn't so much the blowjob, though, as...”
Yamapi looks at him, feeling all of the beer swimming around in his brain. “As what?”
“I was thinking about stuff, right,”
“I don't wanna know about your pervert fantasies,” Yamapi tells him, decisively, and he doesn't, because maybe he'd be tempted to share himself.
“You were watching me,” Jin says, and there's a laugh in there but somehow, it doesn't feel unkind. “I saw you.”
“Yeah, well, I was just watching,” Yamapi says, lamely. “I wasn't watching you, I was watching her and you. And maybe you just caught me watching you, when I was about to look at her.”
“I watched you watching me the entire time,” Jin says, eyes dark, mouth wet – Yamapi wonders if it always is, or whether it's the beer bottle he's got near his mouth, Jin's always putting things in his damn mouth -- “Mostly the entire time.”
“I-” Yamapi can't think of another way out of it. “I was a kid, I was just-”
“So you weren't watching me?”
Yamapi bites his lip. “I was watching you, but I was-”
“See, because that's what did it for me, in the end. Isn't that weird?”
“What, me watching?”
“Yeah,” Jin says, nodding. “And you jerking off in the cupboard. Watching me.”
Yamapi had looked at Jin, then, wondering what to say. “I-”, he says again. “It was-”
“You know,” Jin says. “You could kiss me. That'd be a good way to proceed.”
Yamapi is startled, but he does his best to hide it. It's always been there, in the background, the weird thing between them. He shouldn't be surprised, but he is. He raises an eyebrow. “That used to work on stupid girls, back in the day. It doesn't work on me, idiot. I've seen too much of you. You can't be arrogant with me. I've seen you fall off a merry-go-round.”
“That horse was loose,” Jin says, haughtily. “And it had been raining, so the seat was wet.”
“It was July.”
“So you're not going to kiss me, then?”
“No,” Yamapi grins. “But if you want to kiss me, feel free.”
And Jin, being Jin, stubborn and arrogant and competitive and kind of horny with a challenge, did. Jin kisses the way Yamapi expected he would, the way he always used to kiss girls, with a touch too much force for them. Yamapi likes it. It fits, somehow. It's the same way he kisses. He'd think that it means they're both rubbish kissers, but together, it's fireworks. Yamapi can't help himself, the kissing gets out of control, and he half-falls across the sofa and climbs into Jin's lap.
When Jin moves Yamapi's hair back with the flats of his hands and looks into his eyes, all dark and drunk and horny as hell, Yamapi grinds down, just a bit, until Jin's eyes close and submits and he groans. So Yamapi does it again, and again, until Jin growls at him, asks what the hell he's doing.
“You made me come in my trousers,” Yamapi says. “Back then. I'm returning the favour.”
“Nope,” Jin says, cheerfully, dislodging him with a grunt that sort of takes the edge off his authority, an expression of discomfort that makes it seem a little less than sincere. Yamapi moves onto the floor, sulkily, looking up at Jin.
“Spoilsport,” he says.
“Nope,” Jin says, again. “See, I think you weren't looking at Mariko-chan because you wanted to be in her place.”
Yamapi narrows his eyes. “I take back kissing you. It's gone to your head.”
“Now's your chance,” Jin says, and the arrogant smirk is back, the one Yamapi always maintained didn't work, and yet.
“I am not-” Yamapi begins, but Jin just lies back, looks down his nose at him. And then he starts undoing his trousers, and pulling them down, with his underwear. He's hard, and it's Yamapi's doing, and his eyes are so black and his face so needy, and, well.
“Shut up,” Yamapi says, crawling between Jin's legs. Jin's smirk, to his credit, doesn't last long, replaced with an altogether more slack arrangement of his mouth.
Yamapi reckoned that his blowjob had probably been worse than the one Mariko-chan had given Jin. He has no idea what he's doing, not about technique or speed or anything, and for a second he feels bad for getting so hissy with one of his exes because she hated doing it so much. It's hardly a walk in the park. He feels a bit like he needs a technical manual for it.
One of Jin's hands is on the side of his head, the other clutches and releases on the arm of the sofa. He realises, then, that Jin doesn't need great form or skill or special manoeuvres because he never needed that, either. All Jin actually needs is for Yamapi to relax and go with it, so that's what he does. Or tries to. It's muddled and uncomfortable and strange, but Jin's voice is dark and hot and raising, in exactly the same way it had done years ago – and when it peaks off, when Jin's hands clench tight and his body rises and he makes that same, aching groan, Yamapi's body jerks, hard, caught off guard.
In the aftermath, the only thing Yamapi can think about is that that's the second time he's ended up with wet trousers because of Jin.
Yamapi is twenty-one and he doesn't think he gives any better blowjobs than fifteen year old Mariko-chan. Jin was nice enough not to say as much and so, they'd muddled along for a few weeks until everything started to smoothen out, feel good, taste good, and then...
America.
As it happens, the day Yamapi realises that Jin's really going to go is a bright morning about a week before. It's a happy morning. Yamapi wakes up slowly, instead of to the scream of the alarm clock. He wakes up happy, and then works out that he's happy because Jin is underneath the duvet, coaxing Yamapi into waking up so that he can give him a sleepy, good morning blowjob.
Yamapi stretches, makes a pleased noise in his throat and closes his eyes, concentrating on the feeling. Jin isn't any more expert at this, but he doesn't feel uncomfortable or inexperienced. He seems to take to it well, the way he takes to all new experiences – his mouth is clumsy, but tight, wet and hot, which is all you really need, in the end. And he sucks like it's all he ever wants to do, which actually makes his blowjobs the best Yamapi's ever had. Interesting the way that works.
So Yamapi lies, his hands underneath his head, his toes curling into the sheet, his body thrumming with energy, and he's always pretty quick in the morning – soft to hard in less than a minute, pleased to unbridled in half that, and Jin watches the way he always watches, with those dark eyes that see and absorb every last detail.
After less than a minute, Yamapi's almost tearing his hair out, and he's making demands, rough and a bit rude, to be honest, and Jin just laps it up, using his fingers alongside his mouth, eyes always locked on Yamapi's face. And when he's right there, when he's right there, Jin hums in his throat, and before Yamapi can spit out bastard, he's throwing back his head and yelling something else. Something that sounds more like Akanishi. Damn.
Jin spends the rest of the morning looking smug, which makes Yamapi want to throw something at his head. He realises as they're getting lunch, because on his way to their kitchen, Yamapi trips over Jin's suitcase and it all hits him, just how close it's getting. The reality of not seeing Jin for six whole months. The reality of it, when Yamapi thinks that six whole minutes would be something of a stretch.
Jin is making a sandwich when Yamapi drops the bombshell.
“You're leaving in a week,” Yamapi says, pulling himself onto the kitchen bench and stealing bits of Jin's sandwich.
“Yeah,” Jin says. “I'll get to eat my sandwiches all by myself.”
“We've not got much time.”
“Yup,” Jin says. “True. Better make the most of it. I can't have sex all by myself.”
“Well, you could, but that's not what I'm trying to say.”
“Okay,” Jin says. He's overdoing the mustard, as usual. Yamapi wrinkles his nose.
“I think we should try abstinence,” Yamapi blurts out.
Jin pauses, and blinks. “Huh? That's the total opposite of what I just said. Are you practicing irony again?”
“No,” Yamapi says, resignedly. “You'll never understand the concept of irony. I've given up teaching you. I'm just saying that if we see if we can last a week, we'll know that we can last six months.”
“Six months is easy,” Jin says. “So we should keep having sex.”
“If six months is easy, then a week will be a piece of cake,” Yamapi points out. “I'd rather know, before you go.”
“Why?” Jin is licking mustard from his finger. It's kind of disgusting but still arousing, and Yamapi hates that new relationships do that to him. They make him feel so much in such a short and embarrassing space of time.
“So we can...” Yamapi thinks for a bit. “Decide if we want to be exclusive, while you're there. Or not. I think it's better to know.”
Jin looks a bit bereft. “I don't want anybody else.”
“No, no, me neither!” Yamapi says. “But I don't want to have this conversation on the end of a 'phone line, you know? I think we should talk about it now.”
“Okay,” Jin says. “But I've already decided that we're being exclusive.”
“Hang on-”
Jin's grinning, now. Stubbornly. In a way that looks nice and cute but actually, you probably shouldn't argue with it.
“Okay,” Yamapi says, fighting the only way he knows with Jin. “Let's make it a competition. He who cracks first gets to decide. If you initiate sex first, you lose. And vice versa. Are we on?”
“But you're going to decide to be exclusive, right?”
“Jin-”
“Alright, alright,” Jin says. “You're such a nag, Pi.”
To begin with, they each make a list of eight things the other isn't allowed to do. Partly, this serves as a challenge to their libidos and partly, it makes them feel connected to each other even though they both know they can't take it anywhere.
Eight Things Jin Isn't Allowed To Do:
1. Stand around in the doorway after he's had a shower, being naked and wet. Yamapi is immune to his collarbone. He definitely is. Even when it's all wet and his hair is curling against it, and. Yes. Immune.
2. Rub up against me in the morning when I'm half-asleep. Yeah, bakanishi, I know that you do it.
3. Suck lollipops. Or ice-lollies. Or anything that has to be eaten via being sucked on. Sucking on things generally is forbidden.
4. Stroke the line from the small of my back to my hip. You know the one I mean.
5. 'Accidentally' force me to catch you jerking off. That's what the shower is for.
6. Murmur in my ear last thing at night. This goes for dirty talk and for asking if I've left the light on downstairs. No muttering.
7. Sneering. Just not fucking allowed, alright?
8. Dancing and pretending you don't know I'm watching. Particularly the dirty kind.
Nine Things Yamapi Isn't Allowed To Do:
1. Opening jars and making that weird manly sound that's kind of hot. I kind of think this means we won't be able to eat for a bit but I'm prepared to make sacrifices.
2. Pretending to be coy when you come out of the shower and try to cover up. Particularly when you use the sheet and, oh look, it's not quite covering – just stop it.
3. Kissing my collarbone.
4. Stroking my collarbone.
5. I'm kind of using all of these up fast, right. Er – rolling on top of me in the mornings and grinding on me. I know you do this because I sort of rub against you when you're not quite awake but yeah, forbidden.
6. Spinning your keys around your finger. I don't know why, okay. I just like it.
7. Smoke while hanging out of the window and only wearing jeans. You can smoke, but you'll have to go outside and be covered up and unattractive.
8. Sing in the shower. Because when you stop, it means I know what you're doing instead.
9. Lying on the sofa with your hand in your pants and pretending you don't know I'm watching.
“That's one too many,” Yamapi says.
“I'm special,” Jin says. “It's allowed.”
Yamapi reads the list. “I didn't know that you liked it when I open jars.”
“Huh,” Jin says. “Muttering in your ear, huh-”
“Shut up.”
On the first morning of the challenge, Jin turns over, he's sleepy, and warm, and Yamapi's right there all curled up and extra-warm and, well, morning wood, but-
“Fuck,” Jin mutters to himself. He thinks for a moment, climbs out of bed and grouchily heads for a shower.
It irritates Yamapi, that, because he can just feel Jin and he's all set to roll over and on top of him and have a bit of morning frottage because, well, morning testosterone, but-
Jin moves and heads for the shower and Yamapi idly takes it the line of his shoulders and his arse, and then he swears in unison, and tries to go back to sleep.
Jin stands in the doorway, naked and wet. He's toweling off his hair. Yamapi isn't asleep, but he can hear him.
“Stop it,” Yamapi mutters.
“Why?” Jin says. “You can't see me.”
“I can hear you dripping,” Yamapi says, miserably. “And I can hear the drops landing on your collarbone and sizzling. Oh, for fuck's sake, go dry yourself off elsewhere.”
“They're not rules, those lists,” Jin says, plaintively. “I don't lose if I stay here.”
“No,” Yamapi says. “But I might. So go away.”
Jin doesn't. Jin is amused. Jin is also stupid because, when he doesn't move, Yamapi is forced to. Yamapi takes his towel away and passes him, goes for his own shower. And as he passes, he lets a lingering hand pass over Jin's wet, warm collarbone.
By the time Jin gives chase, Yamapi's already locked the bathroom door.
He sings for a bit, in the shower, and then stops.
“I don't think the abstinence thing is working,” Jin says, over lunch.
“It's been five hours,” Yamapi says. “That's a start.” He considers some sauce with his food, but the jar hasn't been opened, and it's probably a bad idea. Maybe not a bad start, but not a good one, either. They've already broken half the rules on the lists.
Jin snorts, amused. He stands against the kitchen counter, thumbs in his jean belt loops, hip all jutted out and-
“I should have put that on my list,” Yamapi says, and takes his lunch elsewhere.
He goes out with Ryo for the night, which is the only possible way of ensuring that he and Jin succeed on the first day. He's prickly and uptight, which sets Ryo off immediately on a truth crusade. Not because Ryo particularly values truth, he doesn't, but he does value details he can use to tease people with.
“Surely somebody having sex shouldn't be that uptight,” he comments, drinking his tea. “I mean, fuck, maybe you're not doing it right.”
“The sex is fine, thank you,” Yamapi says, voice lowered. “I thought you thought the whole thing was too much information.”
“It is,” Ryo says, shrugging. “It was, until you came here looking all pissed off. That's interesting. It doesn't fit. I am intrigued and concerned, as a friend.”
Yamapi snorts. “You just want the latest gossip.”
“Is he bad in bed? Please tell me that he's bad in bed. It'd make my year.”
“He's not bad in bed,” Yamapi says.
“Liar.”
“He's not! We made a pact of abstinence.”
Ryo looks at him. “I always knew you two were stupid but that takes the fucking cake.”
“We're not-”
“He's leaving for six months in a week. It'd be like a criminal asking the judge to extend his prison term by a week. What's wrong with you?”
“Well,” Yamapi stirs his tea and thinks. He can't think of a good way to put it. “What if we can't do a week? We won't manage half a year and I'd rather know now than see the pictures in the papers. I'd rather we broke it off before he goes if he can't handle a week.”
Ryo thinks about this. “That's stupid,” he says. “Not the logic, that makes sense. It's the execution of it. What are you proving? If he can't manage a week, it means he...and...fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this, wants you too much. Isn't that a good thing? Or do you two live in some alternate universe where the Prime Minister is Hard Gay and nothing makes any fucking sense?”
“I think it means that he'll have sex with anybody,” Yamapi says, miserably. “Doesn't it?”
Ryo shrugs. “If you go home tonight and he's paid for a whore because he can't manage ten minutes without then you might have a problem. I figure if he just wants you, you're probably alright. Although God only knows why. There's plenty of hot girls out there.”
“We're not going out together because we can't get girlfriends,” Yamapi says, indignantly. “I could get a girlfriend, like...snap.”
“Yeah, right,” Ryo says. “That's definitely why you've shacked up with your best mate. Because you could so take home a girl with great tits who'd do your laundry for you. You just don't want a nice girl with-”
“When was the last time you had sex?” Yamapi says, impishly. “Huh?”
Ryo glares at him. “Okay, what do you want to eat?”
He has a point, Yamapi thinks. Only he looks at Jin and there's this built-up longing, this need to protect himself, just in case. He's wanted Jin for years. And he's afraid, of so many things, but mostly of being hurt and losing the best friendship he's ever had.
It's one of the awful ironies in life sometimes that getting together is so quick it's almost readily-assembled, but facing breaking up, that seems to last forever. Cleaning up seems to take so long, and it's so draining, and he's just-
He climbs into bed, trying not to think any further. It doesn't do to worry about it all. Maybe they'll talk in the morning.
Jin is asleep, all sprawled and unkempt. As Yamapi settles in beside him, he reaches out and grabs his hand. Only half-asleep, then. His grasp isn't tight, but it's unconscious, it's needy, it's everything Yamapi wants and is afraid of, all at once.
Jin leans over, and sleepily finds Yamapi's ear, “'Night,” he says, lazily.
Yamapi swats him, and squeezes his hand in the dark.
The fourth morning turns out to be the most successful morning. Jin spends most of the day packing and Yamapi spends most of it pretending that Jin isn't packing. They never did have the conversation. They've fallen into the habit of reminding themselves not to initiate sex with each other. It's difficult, all of the time, but it's like they're used to the difficulty.
Yamapi walks into the bedroom in the evening to find Jin knee-deep in clothes and lists. He sits on the bed and watches him, quiet and thoughtful.
“My suitcase has shrunk,” Jin says, mournfully.
“How do you fit all of that in the wardrobe?” Yamapi says, incredulously.
“I think some of it's yours, actually,” Jin says, staring at the mess on the floor. “I'm sure that I don't have this much stuff.”
Yamapi can see some of his own t-shirts in the pile, and he nods, “That one's mine. Hard Rock Cafe. I remember buying that.”
“Wasn't that when we got thrown out?”
“No,” Yamapi thinks. “We went to another branch. And you behaved yourself. I bought the t-shirt to celebrate. You can take it, if you want.”
“I want to take the one you wear,” Jin says, matter-of-factly. “So wear this one in bed for a few days, and then I'll take it.”
“Do you want to keep this going? This thing we're doing?” Yamapi asks, suddenly. His legs are crossed in front of him, and his eyes are dark and his whole body looks small in the dim light of the room. Jin looks across at him, startled.
“Yes,” he says. “Why? Do you not?”
Yamapi looks at him. “I do,” he says. “I just. I don't know whether we can.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I'm worried that you'll go over there and everything will be new and exciting, and, fuck, I don't want to sound jealous, and bitter, or a nag-”
“I was kidding about that,” Jin says. “You know I was-”
“I know,” Yamapi says. “But I don't want you to feel tied down.”
“I don't want anybody else,” Jin says, firmly. “We have history. We're us. It's like you saying to Batman, hey, Batman, Robin's alright but why not have...Batgirl instead. No fucking thanks, I like Robin. Robin's my guy. If he goes, I go.”
“You are not Batman,” Yamapi says. “I'm Batman. But thank you.”
“You're not Batman,” Jin says, frowning. “Come on. You're definitely the sidekick.”
“I am fucking not!” Yamapi says, indignantly. “I'm always having to bail you out of your stupid situations, idiot. I'm Batman. You're Robin.”
“Well, fine, whatever,” Jin says. “Point is, we're a team. So shut up and help me separate our fucking clothes, because we're too good a team and I can't tell my underwear from yours.”
“Can you survive without sex for six months?” Yamapi asks, hauling himself off the bed and coming to join Jin in the river of pants.
“I'm going to assume you're not implying that I am slutty,” Jin says, loftily. “But that I am so great in bed that to remove me from my specialty is a great travesty and something the angels will mourn. In the clouds. Up there.”
“No, I was talking about you being slutty,” Yamapi says, grinning.
“You're the slutty one,” Jin says, picking up some clothes and throwing them at Yamapi. “How many women does Batman sleep with in the movies? Huh? Huh?”
They end up on the bed, entangled in somebody's jumper. Jin is wearing the sleeve around his head and Yamapi has the head around his shoulder. They look at each other, all encased in some sort of awful orange wool, and in the dim light of the room it's the most inappropriate and yet weirdly romantic setting for a kiss.
Yamapi lifts the jumper away as Jin kisses down from mouth to jaw to neck, pausing to breathe against to shell of Yamapi's ear, just where he likes it.
“Does this mean that you're losing?” Yamapi says, distracted, his hand in Jin's hair and his body rising to the touch.
“I'm forfeiting,” Jin says, spreading himself out over Yamapi and looking him right in the eyes. “It sounds better that way.”
A lot of things sound better that way, Yamapi decides, as Jin moves out of his own clothes and sheds Yamapi of his, too. In the low light, he can barely see him, but the scent of him and the warmth of him and the line of his body – things that were before only arousing now take on new intimacy and new meaning. Jin lies down and it's slow, it's slow and it's careful and it's so needy that it trembles, the feeling between them. The kissing trembles between them, like a cobweb of an emotion they won't put a name to.
This is what Yamapi is afraid of, this feeling. This falling. Only with Jin, in this moment, it feels mostly right. It's scary, still, but it feels mostly right. With each touch and each taste, it feels better and better, and the light of the world ebbs away as they move their bodies together. Everything goes dark like a cocoon when Yamapi nods to Jin, and Jin lies between his legs and slowly, gradually moves inside him.
Their noses are touching, which is the sensation Yamapi hangs onto because he still isn't used to the gnawing edge of pain. Jin's breath is staccato, and Yamapi can hear him counting to ten under his breath. It's somehow pleasing to know that they're in this together, this thing they can't quite work out yet. Jin isn't all-knowing. He's no more a sex god now than he was when he was fifteen and using rubbish lines on girls. He still has to count to ten to stop himself from coming, that's how raw, how ripe, how good this whole mess is. And Yamapi wants to keep unraveling it. That's all that he wants.
He nods to Jin, again, and they move together, in the dark, in the lost world that's made up of the pair of them and nobody else. And Jin moves down and breaks Yamapi's rules, muttering obscenities in his ear until Yamapi begs him to stop, at which point he tells him he loves him, a dulcet little whisper, smug, genuine and happy because he knows Yamapi can't tell him off for it. And so Yamapi kisses his collarbone until Jin squirms, until Jin begs him to stop – and Yamapi says it back.
They unravel, because it's what they do best. They get into messes and they splash about in them together. Yamapi unravels like string, his entire body stretches out and his head leans back and his chin exposed, Jin runs his tongue along it, again and again until Yamapi's throat vibrates with the feeling. Yamapi moves Jin's spare hand to his cock, and so Jin strokes it. Yamapi's throat vibrates a bit more, a bit louder, Jin's name in his mouth. Yamapi presses his hips up, an urging, a challenge, so Jin moves faster, harder, biting his own lip. They unravel together, like string, a whole ball of it rolling down a hill, going faster and faster until the ground looms beneath them and they slam into it and it's the best feeling in the whole world.
The loudest feeling in the whole world, too: Yamapi's throat hurts from yelling. Jin's arms are shaking and Yamapi has to gently knock them out from under him, to get him to lie down.
“I lost,” he says, although it comes out mangled because Jin can rarely speak properly after sex.
“Yep,” Yamapi says, stroking his head. “You're definitely Robin.”
Seeing as Jin lost, they see no reason to return to abstinence. Their strength of character tested, they pride themselves on lasting four days and thoroughly anticipate succeeding over the course of six months. Yamapi visibly relaxes, tears up his list of things and helps Jin to separate their clothes. Ryo pays them both a visit, to say goodbye to Jin and to hopefully get a firsthand glimpse of some relationship drama, but he leaves disgusted declaring the pair of them to be “too stupid for words”.
Yamapi makes his decision on the sixth morning, the day before Jin has to leave. He's not sure why he delays it, because both he and Jin decided what they were going to do, they both decided to be exclusive, but. He wants to mention it. He wants there to be some sort of formality about it. So he tells Jin over breakfast. Jin is done with his soup and he's eating a lollipop. It's blue and so is his mouth.
“So we'll have 'phone sex,” he says, blue-mouthed, around the lollipop.
“Yep,” Yamapi says. “And we'll talk a lot. It'll be fine. We'll manage.”
“Okay,” Jin says. “You could come visit.”
“If I get time off, I will,” Yamapi says. “I wish you'd stop eating that. I can't concentrate when you're doing that.”
Jin grins. His teeth are blue, too. “You can concentrate. Just not on anything but me.”
“Hm,” Yamapi says. “That's my point.”
“Why would you want to concentrate on anything but me, anyway?”
Yamapi studies him, eyes narrowed. “The arrogance thing-”
“You know, Mariko-chan told me something afterwards. We met at school the next day, and she told me that she only went with me because she wanted to get closer to you, and could she have your 'phone number.”
“That makes no fucking sense,” Yamapi says. “Why didn't she just ask me? She never even talked to me.”
“Girls are weird,” Jin shrugs. “She said she didn't want you to think she was a slut.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Jin grins, finishes his lollipop. “I knew you'd decide you were Batman because of it. Anyway, by then I'd seen that you were looking at me and not her, and...I dunno. I got jealous.”
“You didn't do anything about it, though. You're weird, too.”
“Well, neither did you,” Jin points out. “We're both weird. And stupid.”
“Ryo is right,” Yamapi says, resignedly. “We live in a world that makes no fucking sense.”
They spend the day watching old movies and eating, just enjoying each other's company. Yamapi takes pictures of them being stupid. He takes pictures of Jin doing all the things that Yamapi forbid him from doing: Jin dances, Jin walks around naked and wet, Jin sneering. Sometimes, a combination of all three things. And Yamapi laughs a lot, so all in all, it's the perfect last day.
The morning Jin has to leave on his flight is just like any other, which is partly what makes it hard. He rubs up against Yamapi to wake him up, so Yamapi rolls on top of him, sleepy and stuck in the sheet, and they rub together, neither of them properly awake enough to appreciate it. Jin's eyes are warm and dark and he watches Yamapi getting off, which is the moment Yamapi suddenly understands what a turn on it must have been for Jin at fifteen, to have captivated his best friend's attention so entirely.
Halfway through, when Yamapi still has some sense left, he leans over and switches the camera on the bedside table to video-mode. Jin barely notices, because he's blatantly groping Yamapi's arse with one hand and stroking his fingers down the small of his back, to his hip, with the other. It makes Yamapi shudder, which is good friction, which is good everything, and Jin closes his eyes as Yamapi settles back in his lap. He tilts his head back at the same moment Yamapi does, and it's clumsy, and awkward, and not in the least bit graceful, the shoving, the thrusting, the wild chasing of pleasure. But in the end, it's fireworks. It's fire running through the blood. It's unraveling like string. It doesn't make sense, but it's them.
This time, Jin comes first, and he repeats Yamapi's name seven and a half times. It might have been eight, in the end, but it's on the 7.5th that Yamapi comes, so he's no longer concentrating.
Three weeks after Jin leaves, Yamapi remembers the video. He caught the whole thing, much to his surprise. He's never had much luck with technology.
He transfers the video and the pictures onto his laptop, puts the lot on a DVD. Wraps it in an envelope and sets about writing a letter. Only he's not sure what to say, so in the end, it's a note.
Robin,
I wanted to write lots of stuff so that you'd think I was pining over you all the time, and all that, but all that's really important is that I miss you. And you better be missing me, not chasing Californian tail.
Anyway, check this stuff out. You'll know what it is when you see it.
Here's to abstinence, and truths, and DVD porn. See you in six months, idiot.
Batman.
PS. Alfred misses you, too. Even though he says Japan's more peaceful without you. He's working on the Batmobile as we speak.
Fandom: JE
Pairing: Yamapi/Jin
Rating: R
Disclaimers: Erm, I don't know where this came from. This isn't the Desperate Housewives crossover -- that's still to come! This is just straight-up Pin porn, really. :) Also, yes, the title is an awful parody of Sex, Lies and Videotape. I'm sorry. Oh, and this features some het. Enjoy. ♥
Jin is fifteen. He's gawky around the shoulders and he's awkward when he tries to look self-assured, when he tries to pretend to the girls that he gets blowjobs all the time, and Mariko-chan should be grateful that he's even asking her to suck him off, because probably, he could find himself another girlfriend, one who will.
She relents at this, and he tells her to come around after school. It gives he and Yamapi enough time to set things up.
He's just better looking than Yamapi at that age, that's what it comes down to. Yamapi would really rather be the one getting the blowjob than the one sitting in the wardrobe, like somebody's hopeless kid brother, but he hasn't ever had a girlfriend and it's a fact that doesn't seem likely to change any time soon. Jin closes the door on him and in the darkness, Jin's breathing sounds so loud, even through the wood.
“Relax,” Yamapi says, but the sound is muffled. “She'll be here.”
“I know,” Jin says, but he doesn't sound convinced. When there's a knock on the door, Jin jumps up so fast he hits his head on the light shade.
Yamapi is twenty-one and Jin a bit older than that. Mariko-chan is no longer in the picture. And this is okay, because instead of finding another girlfriend, Jin found himself a boyfriend.
It was bit like eating Brussels sprouts, Yamapi thinks, but he'd never tell Jin that because then Jin would want to know exactly why their sex life was a bit like eating Brussels sprouts. The point is that their sex life started out like eating Brussels sprouts. At first, it was sort of awkward and strange, bodies bumping together and not yielding with a sort of soft shyness, the way women do with their bodies. The sense of competition and the over-excitedness, like dogs. It took a while to get used to how unfamiliar it all was.
It didn't help that for a week or so they never really made it to a bed, so they ended up on all sorts of surfaces and, well, neither of them have great balance. It just made things trickier. It was just that they couldn't slow down, they were so over-excited, like dogs. They're not careful, the way they were with girls, when they were teenagers. They're not delicate, or gentle. They tear each other's clothes off, they pull each other's hair, they grunt, they grab, they bite.
It all sounds like great sex, but on top of a kitchen table or up against a wall, or – it just wasn't very seamless, and until the taste started to feel good, it didn't really work out all that well. Like Brussels sprouts, it took some time to change 'urgh' into 'mmm'.
The inclusion of a bed helped.
The point really is that both of them like Brussels sprouts now, really really like them. They're still not delicate or gentle, but that's because it's only been three weeks and they're still in that stage where they can't stop looking at each other and thinking indecent things, things that often show up in their distracted expressions. Jin finds everything Yamapi does incomprehensibly hot, and so often initiates sex when Yamapi's opening jars of sauce or spinning his car keys around one finger in the morning.
And Yamapi, well, Yamapi basically initiates sex at any point where it isn't dangerous: as long as they're not cooking, basically.
The only problem with their Brussels-sprout-paradise is that in three days, Jin's going to America for six months. This is badly timed, as their enterprises often are, and Yamapi's trying not to think about what it's going to be like without Jin for such a long time, and how they're going to keep the relationship going. They'd never intended this to happen. There'd always been odd moments, in their lives that suggested an abnormal level of tension between them, but neither of them had ever expected to end up at this point.
Mariko-chan is on her knees on the floor and her skirt is a bit hiked up around her shoes, and if Yamapi were any sort of proper teenager he'd be staring at the colour of her underwear. As it is, he doesn't even notice, because he can't tear his eyes away from the way Jin's hands are shaking against her skull.
He's trying to pretend to be nonchalant, hip thrown out, face expectant. But his hands give him away, and maybe she knows that, too. She undoes his trousers for him, because he hasn't a hope, not until his fingers resemble something other than spaghetti. And just as she takes his cock out, her face at once incredulous and nervous, Jin catches Yamapi's eye for a second. He tears it away because he doesn't want to give the game away, but it's enough.
When she puts her mouth on him, Jin makes a strangled sound in his throat, and Yamapi doesn't even think about it. He shifts position on his haunches, jams his clenched fist between the door frame and his crotch and tries not to think about anything as he moves against it. He tries not to think about the friction, about how it isn't enough, how he'd do anything to-
Especially not that. He's supposed to be looking at Mariko-chan, her pink lips stretching around Jin and her eyes searching for encouragement. That's what normal teenage boys wank off to. Only he's not a normal boy. He's in his best friend's wardrobe watching him get a blowjob, as some kind of consolation prize for being unable to get one of his own. He's not normal, he guesses, but there's a line even between that kind of abnormal and the kind of abnormal that is wanking off to the look on your best friend's face rather than the girl on her knees in front of him.
Jin's eyes are lidded and his breath is almost visible. He's thrusting, gently and without rhythm, against Mariko-chan, and she's happy to let him rather than venturing forwards. In a passive and awkward way, they've found something that works and the sound of Jin's voice getting louder and rougher fills the room.
When Jin barks, Yamapi knows it's going to happen, he knows, because he's not even looking at Mariko-chan anymore, he's just listening to Jin. And when he hears Jin come, he comes, and there's nothing normal about that.
In the end, Yamapi never told Jin that he'd wanted to watch Jin, not Mariko-chan.
Not even when Jin brought it up, one drunken evening a few weeks back. Yamapi kept his mouth firmly shut, even as Jin laughed about it, the blowjob he said had kind of sucked, but.
Yamapi snorts, then, feeling as though he was finally on safe ground. “Yeah, right. You still got off on it, idiot. Can't have been that bad.”
“It was alright,” Jin relents, a little. “Wasn't so much the blowjob, though, as...”
Yamapi looks at him, feeling all of the beer swimming around in his brain. “As what?”
“I was thinking about stuff, right,”
“I don't wanna know about your pervert fantasies,” Yamapi tells him, decisively, and he doesn't, because maybe he'd be tempted to share himself.
“You were watching me,” Jin says, and there's a laugh in there but somehow, it doesn't feel unkind. “I saw you.”
“Yeah, well, I was just watching,” Yamapi says, lamely. “I wasn't watching you, I was watching her and you. And maybe you just caught me watching you, when I was about to look at her.”
“I watched you watching me the entire time,” Jin says, eyes dark, mouth wet – Yamapi wonders if it always is, or whether it's the beer bottle he's got near his mouth, Jin's always putting things in his damn mouth -- “Mostly the entire time.”
“I-” Yamapi can't think of another way out of it. “I was a kid, I was just-”
“So you weren't watching me?”
Yamapi bites his lip. “I was watching you, but I was-”
“See, because that's what did it for me, in the end. Isn't that weird?”
“What, me watching?”
“Yeah,” Jin says, nodding. “And you jerking off in the cupboard. Watching me.”
Yamapi had looked at Jin, then, wondering what to say. “I-”, he says again. “It was-”
“You know,” Jin says. “You could kiss me. That'd be a good way to proceed.”
Yamapi is startled, but he does his best to hide it. It's always been there, in the background, the weird thing between them. He shouldn't be surprised, but he is. He raises an eyebrow. “That used to work on stupid girls, back in the day. It doesn't work on me, idiot. I've seen too much of you. You can't be arrogant with me. I've seen you fall off a merry-go-round.”
“That horse was loose,” Jin says, haughtily. “And it had been raining, so the seat was wet.”
“It was July.”
“So you're not going to kiss me, then?”
“No,” Yamapi grins. “But if you want to kiss me, feel free.”
And Jin, being Jin, stubborn and arrogant and competitive and kind of horny with a challenge, did. Jin kisses the way Yamapi expected he would, the way he always used to kiss girls, with a touch too much force for them. Yamapi likes it. It fits, somehow. It's the same way he kisses. He'd think that it means they're both rubbish kissers, but together, it's fireworks. Yamapi can't help himself, the kissing gets out of control, and he half-falls across the sofa and climbs into Jin's lap.
When Jin moves Yamapi's hair back with the flats of his hands and looks into his eyes, all dark and drunk and horny as hell, Yamapi grinds down, just a bit, until Jin's eyes close and submits and he groans. So Yamapi does it again, and again, until Jin growls at him, asks what the hell he's doing.
“You made me come in my trousers,” Yamapi says. “Back then. I'm returning the favour.”
“Nope,” Jin says, cheerfully, dislodging him with a grunt that sort of takes the edge off his authority, an expression of discomfort that makes it seem a little less than sincere. Yamapi moves onto the floor, sulkily, looking up at Jin.
“Spoilsport,” he says.
“Nope,” Jin says, again. “See, I think you weren't looking at Mariko-chan because you wanted to be in her place.”
Yamapi narrows his eyes. “I take back kissing you. It's gone to your head.”
“Now's your chance,” Jin says, and the arrogant smirk is back, the one Yamapi always maintained didn't work, and yet.
“I am not-” Yamapi begins, but Jin just lies back, looks down his nose at him. And then he starts undoing his trousers, and pulling them down, with his underwear. He's hard, and it's Yamapi's doing, and his eyes are so black and his face so needy, and, well.
“Shut up,” Yamapi says, crawling between Jin's legs. Jin's smirk, to his credit, doesn't last long, replaced with an altogether more slack arrangement of his mouth.
Yamapi reckoned that his blowjob had probably been worse than the one Mariko-chan had given Jin. He has no idea what he's doing, not about technique or speed or anything, and for a second he feels bad for getting so hissy with one of his exes because she hated doing it so much. It's hardly a walk in the park. He feels a bit like he needs a technical manual for it.
One of Jin's hands is on the side of his head, the other clutches and releases on the arm of the sofa. He realises, then, that Jin doesn't need great form or skill or special manoeuvres because he never needed that, either. All Jin actually needs is for Yamapi to relax and go with it, so that's what he does. Or tries to. It's muddled and uncomfortable and strange, but Jin's voice is dark and hot and raising, in exactly the same way it had done years ago – and when it peaks off, when Jin's hands clench tight and his body rises and he makes that same, aching groan, Yamapi's body jerks, hard, caught off guard.
In the aftermath, the only thing Yamapi can think about is that that's the second time he's ended up with wet trousers because of Jin.
Yamapi is twenty-one and he doesn't think he gives any better blowjobs than fifteen year old Mariko-chan. Jin was nice enough not to say as much and so, they'd muddled along for a few weeks until everything started to smoothen out, feel good, taste good, and then...
America.
As it happens, the day Yamapi realises that Jin's really going to go is a bright morning about a week before. It's a happy morning. Yamapi wakes up slowly, instead of to the scream of the alarm clock. He wakes up happy, and then works out that he's happy because Jin is underneath the duvet, coaxing Yamapi into waking up so that he can give him a sleepy, good morning blowjob.
Yamapi stretches, makes a pleased noise in his throat and closes his eyes, concentrating on the feeling. Jin isn't any more expert at this, but he doesn't feel uncomfortable or inexperienced. He seems to take to it well, the way he takes to all new experiences – his mouth is clumsy, but tight, wet and hot, which is all you really need, in the end. And he sucks like it's all he ever wants to do, which actually makes his blowjobs the best Yamapi's ever had. Interesting the way that works.
So Yamapi lies, his hands underneath his head, his toes curling into the sheet, his body thrumming with energy, and he's always pretty quick in the morning – soft to hard in less than a minute, pleased to unbridled in half that, and Jin watches the way he always watches, with those dark eyes that see and absorb every last detail.
After less than a minute, Yamapi's almost tearing his hair out, and he's making demands, rough and a bit rude, to be honest, and Jin just laps it up, using his fingers alongside his mouth, eyes always locked on Yamapi's face. And when he's right there, when he's right there, Jin hums in his throat, and before Yamapi can spit out bastard, he's throwing back his head and yelling something else. Something that sounds more like Akanishi. Damn.
Jin spends the rest of the morning looking smug, which makes Yamapi want to throw something at his head. He realises as they're getting lunch, because on his way to their kitchen, Yamapi trips over Jin's suitcase and it all hits him, just how close it's getting. The reality of not seeing Jin for six whole months. The reality of it, when Yamapi thinks that six whole minutes would be something of a stretch.
Jin is making a sandwich when Yamapi drops the bombshell.
“You're leaving in a week,” Yamapi says, pulling himself onto the kitchen bench and stealing bits of Jin's sandwich.
“Yeah,” Jin says. “I'll get to eat my sandwiches all by myself.”
“We've not got much time.”
“Yup,” Jin says. “True. Better make the most of it. I can't have sex all by myself.”
“Well, you could, but that's not what I'm trying to say.”
“Okay,” Jin says. He's overdoing the mustard, as usual. Yamapi wrinkles his nose.
“I think we should try abstinence,” Yamapi blurts out.
Jin pauses, and blinks. “Huh? That's the total opposite of what I just said. Are you practicing irony again?”
“No,” Yamapi says, resignedly. “You'll never understand the concept of irony. I've given up teaching you. I'm just saying that if we see if we can last a week, we'll know that we can last six months.”
“Six months is easy,” Jin says. “So we should keep having sex.”
“If six months is easy, then a week will be a piece of cake,” Yamapi points out. “I'd rather know, before you go.”
“Why?” Jin is licking mustard from his finger. It's kind of disgusting but still arousing, and Yamapi hates that new relationships do that to him. They make him feel so much in such a short and embarrassing space of time.
“So we can...” Yamapi thinks for a bit. “Decide if we want to be exclusive, while you're there. Or not. I think it's better to know.”
Jin looks a bit bereft. “I don't want anybody else.”
“No, no, me neither!” Yamapi says. “But I don't want to have this conversation on the end of a 'phone line, you know? I think we should talk about it now.”
“Okay,” Jin says. “But I've already decided that we're being exclusive.”
“Hang on-”
Jin's grinning, now. Stubbornly. In a way that looks nice and cute but actually, you probably shouldn't argue with it.
“Okay,” Yamapi says, fighting the only way he knows with Jin. “Let's make it a competition. He who cracks first gets to decide. If you initiate sex first, you lose. And vice versa. Are we on?”
“But you're going to decide to be exclusive, right?”
“Jin-”
“Alright, alright,” Jin says. “You're such a nag, Pi.”
To begin with, they each make a list of eight things the other isn't allowed to do. Partly, this serves as a challenge to their libidos and partly, it makes them feel connected to each other even though they both know they can't take it anywhere.
Eight Things Jin Isn't Allowed To Do:
1. Stand around in the doorway after he's had a shower, being naked and wet. Yamapi is immune to his collarbone. He definitely is. Even when it's all wet and his hair is curling against it, and. Yes. Immune.
2. Rub up against me in the morning when I'm half-asleep. Yeah, bakanishi, I know that you do it.
3. Suck lollipops. Or ice-lollies. Or anything that has to be eaten via being sucked on. Sucking on things generally is forbidden.
4. Stroke the line from the small of my back to my hip. You know the one I mean.
5. 'Accidentally' force me to catch you jerking off. That's what the shower is for.
6. Murmur in my ear last thing at night. This goes for dirty talk and for asking if I've left the light on downstairs. No muttering.
7. Sneering. Just not fucking allowed, alright?
8. Dancing and pretending you don't know I'm watching. Particularly the dirty kind.
Nine Things Yamapi Isn't Allowed To Do:
1. Opening jars and making that weird manly sound that's kind of hot. I kind of think this means we won't be able to eat for a bit but I'm prepared to make sacrifices.
2. Pretending to be coy when you come out of the shower and try to cover up. Particularly when you use the sheet and, oh look, it's not quite covering – just stop it.
3. Kissing my collarbone.
4. Stroking my collarbone.
5. I'm kind of using all of these up fast, right. Er – rolling on top of me in the mornings and grinding on me. I know you do this because I sort of rub against you when you're not quite awake but yeah, forbidden.
6. Spinning your keys around your finger. I don't know why, okay. I just like it.
7. Smoke while hanging out of the window and only wearing jeans. You can smoke, but you'll have to go outside and be covered up and unattractive.
8. Sing in the shower. Because when you stop, it means I know what you're doing instead.
9. Lying on the sofa with your hand in your pants and pretending you don't know I'm watching.
“That's one too many,” Yamapi says.
“I'm special,” Jin says. “It's allowed.”
Yamapi reads the list. “I didn't know that you liked it when I open jars.”
“Huh,” Jin says. “Muttering in your ear, huh-”
“Shut up.”
On the first morning of the challenge, Jin turns over, he's sleepy, and warm, and Yamapi's right there all curled up and extra-warm and, well, morning wood, but-
“Fuck,” Jin mutters to himself. He thinks for a moment, climbs out of bed and grouchily heads for a shower.
It irritates Yamapi, that, because he can just feel Jin and he's all set to roll over and on top of him and have a bit of morning frottage because, well, morning testosterone, but-
Jin moves and heads for the shower and Yamapi idly takes it the line of his shoulders and his arse, and then he swears in unison, and tries to go back to sleep.
Jin stands in the doorway, naked and wet. He's toweling off his hair. Yamapi isn't asleep, but he can hear him.
“Stop it,” Yamapi mutters.
“Why?” Jin says. “You can't see me.”
“I can hear you dripping,” Yamapi says, miserably. “And I can hear the drops landing on your collarbone and sizzling. Oh, for fuck's sake, go dry yourself off elsewhere.”
“They're not rules, those lists,” Jin says, plaintively. “I don't lose if I stay here.”
“No,” Yamapi says. “But I might. So go away.”
Jin doesn't. Jin is amused. Jin is also stupid because, when he doesn't move, Yamapi is forced to. Yamapi takes his towel away and passes him, goes for his own shower. And as he passes, he lets a lingering hand pass over Jin's wet, warm collarbone.
By the time Jin gives chase, Yamapi's already locked the bathroom door.
He sings for a bit, in the shower, and then stops.
“I don't think the abstinence thing is working,” Jin says, over lunch.
“It's been five hours,” Yamapi says. “That's a start.” He considers some sauce with his food, but the jar hasn't been opened, and it's probably a bad idea. Maybe not a bad start, but not a good one, either. They've already broken half the rules on the lists.
Jin snorts, amused. He stands against the kitchen counter, thumbs in his jean belt loops, hip all jutted out and-
“I should have put that on my list,” Yamapi says, and takes his lunch elsewhere.
He goes out with Ryo for the night, which is the only possible way of ensuring that he and Jin succeed on the first day. He's prickly and uptight, which sets Ryo off immediately on a truth crusade. Not because Ryo particularly values truth, he doesn't, but he does value details he can use to tease people with.
“Surely somebody having sex shouldn't be that uptight,” he comments, drinking his tea. “I mean, fuck, maybe you're not doing it right.”
“The sex is fine, thank you,” Yamapi says, voice lowered. “I thought you thought the whole thing was too much information.”
“It is,” Ryo says, shrugging. “It was, until you came here looking all pissed off. That's interesting. It doesn't fit. I am intrigued and concerned, as a friend.”
Yamapi snorts. “You just want the latest gossip.”
“Is he bad in bed? Please tell me that he's bad in bed. It'd make my year.”
“He's not bad in bed,” Yamapi says.
“Liar.”
“He's not! We made a pact of abstinence.”
Ryo looks at him. “I always knew you two were stupid but that takes the fucking cake.”
“We're not-”
“He's leaving for six months in a week. It'd be like a criminal asking the judge to extend his prison term by a week. What's wrong with you?”
“Well,” Yamapi stirs his tea and thinks. He can't think of a good way to put it. “What if we can't do a week? We won't manage half a year and I'd rather know now than see the pictures in the papers. I'd rather we broke it off before he goes if he can't handle a week.”
Ryo thinks about this. “That's stupid,” he says. “Not the logic, that makes sense. It's the execution of it. What are you proving? If he can't manage a week, it means he...and...fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this, wants you too much. Isn't that a good thing? Or do you two live in some alternate universe where the Prime Minister is Hard Gay and nothing makes any fucking sense?”
“I think it means that he'll have sex with anybody,” Yamapi says, miserably. “Doesn't it?”
Ryo shrugs. “If you go home tonight and he's paid for a whore because he can't manage ten minutes without then you might have a problem. I figure if he just wants you, you're probably alright. Although God only knows why. There's plenty of hot girls out there.”
“We're not going out together because we can't get girlfriends,” Yamapi says, indignantly. “I could get a girlfriend, like...snap.”
“Yeah, right,” Ryo says. “That's definitely why you've shacked up with your best mate. Because you could so take home a girl with great tits who'd do your laundry for you. You just don't want a nice girl with-”
“When was the last time you had sex?” Yamapi says, impishly. “Huh?”
Ryo glares at him. “Okay, what do you want to eat?”
He has a point, Yamapi thinks. Only he looks at Jin and there's this built-up longing, this need to protect himself, just in case. He's wanted Jin for years. And he's afraid, of so many things, but mostly of being hurt and losing the best friendship he's ever had.
It's one of the awful ironies in life sometimes that getting together is so quick it's almost readily-assembled, but facing breaking up, that seems to last forever. Cleaning up seems to take so long, and it's so draining, and he's just-
He climbs into bed, trying not to think any further. It doesn't do to worry about it all. Maybe they'll talk in the morning.
Jin is asleep, all sprawled and unkempt. As Yamapi settles in beside him, he reaches out and grabs his hand. Only half-asleep, then. His grasp isn't tight, but it's unconscious, it's needy, it's everything Yamapi wants and is afraid of, all at once.
Jin leans over, and sleepily finds Yamapi's ear, “'Night,” he says, lazily.
Yamapi swats him, and squeezes his hand in the dark.
The fourth morning turns out to be the most successful morning. Jin spends most of the day packing and Yamapi spends most of it pretending that Jin isn't packing. They never did have the conversation. They've fallen into the habit of reminding themselves not to initiate sex with each other. It's difficult, all of the time, but it's like they're used to the difficulty.
Yamapi walks into the bedroom in the evening to find Jin knee-deep in clothes and lists. He sits on the bed and watches him, quiet and thoughtful.
“My suitcase has shrunk,” Jin says, mournfully.
“How do you fit all of that in the wardrobe?” Yamapi says, incredulously.
“I think some of it's yours, actually,” Jin says, staring at the mess on the floor. “I'm sure that I don't have this much stuff.”
Yamapi can see some of his own t-shirts in the pile, and he nods, “That one's mine. Hard Rock Cafe. I remember buying that.”
“Wasn't that when we got thrown out?”
“No,” Yamapi thinks. “We went to another branch. And you behaved yourself. I bought the t-shirt to celebrate. You can take it, if you want.”
“I want to take the one you wear,” Jin says, matter-of-factly. “So wear this one in bed for a few days, and then I'll take it.”
“Do you want to keep this going? This thing we're doing?” Yamapi asks, suddenly. His legs are crossed in front of him, and his eyes are dark and his whole body looks small in the dim light of the room. Jin looks across at him, startled.
“Yes,” he says. “Why? Do you not?”
Yamapi looks at him. “I do,” he says. “I just. I don't know whether we can.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I'm worried that you'll go over there and everything will be new and exciting, and, fuck, I don't want to sound jealous, and bitter, or a nag-”
“I was kidding about that,” Jin says. “You know I was-”
“I know,” Yamapi says. “But I don't want you to feel tied down.”
“I don't want anybody else,” Jin says, firmly. “We have history. We're us. It's like you saying to Batman, hey, Batman, Robin's alright but why not have...Batgirl instead. No fucking thanks, I like Robin. Robin's my guy. If he goes, I go.”
“You are not Batman,” Yamapi says. “I'm Batman. But thank you.”
“You're not Batman,” Jin says, frowning. “Come on. You're definitely the sidekick.”
“I am fucking not!” Yamapi says, indignantly. “I'm always having to bail you out of your stupid situations, idiot. I'm Batman. You're Robin.”
“Well, fine, whatever,” Jin says. “Point is, we're a team. So shut up and help me separate our fucking clothes, because we're too good a team and I can't tell my underwear from yours.”
“Can you survive without sex for six months?” Yamapi asks, hauling himself off the bed and coming to join Jin in the river of pants.
“I'm going to assume you're not implying that I am slutty,” Jin says, loftily. “But that I am so great in bed that to remove me from my specialty is a great travesty and something the angels will mourn. In the clouds. Up there.”
“No, I was talking about you being slutty,” Yamapi says, grinning.
“You're the slutty one,” Jin says, picking up some clothes and throwing them at Yamapi. “How many women does Batman sleep with in the movies? Huh? Huh?”
They end up on the bed, entangled in somebody's jumper. Jin is wearing the sleeve around his head and Yamapi has the head around his shoulder. They look at each other, all encased in some sort of awful orange wool, and in the dim light of the room it's the most inappropriate and yet weirdly romantic setting for a kiss.
Yamapi lifts the jumper away as Jin kisses down from mouth to jaw to neck, pausing to breathe against to shell of Yamapi's ear, just where he likes it.
“Does this mean that you're losing?” Yamapi says, distracted, his hand in Jin's hair and his body rising to the touch.
“I'm forfeiting,” Jin says, spreading himself out over Yamapi and looking him right in the eyes. “It sounds better that way.”
A lot of things sound better that way, Yamapi decides, as Jin moves out of his own clothes and sheds Yamapi of his, too. In the low light, he can barely see him, but the scent of him and the warmth of him and the line of his body – things that were before only arousing now take on new intimacy and new meaning. Jin lies down and it's slow, it's slow and it's careful and it's so needy that it trembles, the feeling between them. The kissing trembles between them, like a cobweb of an emotion they won't put a name to.
This is what Yamapi is afraid of, this feeling. This falling. Only with Jin, in this moment, it feels mostly right. It's scary, still, but it feels mostly right. With each touch and each taste, it feels better and better, and the light of the world ebbs away as they move their bodies together. Everything goes dark like a cocoon when Yamapi nods to Jin, and Jin lies between his legs and slowly, gradually moves inside him.
Their noses are touching, which is the sensation Yamapi hangs onto because he still isn't used to the gnawing edge of pain. Jin's breath is staccato, and Yamapi can hear him counting to ten under his breath. It's somehow pleasing to know that they're in this together, this thing they can't quite work out yet. Jin isn't all-knowing. He's no more a sex god now than he was when he was fifteen and using rubbish lines on girls. He still has to count to ten to stop himself from coming, that's how raw, how ripe, how good this whole mess is. And Yamapi wants to keep unraveling it. That's all that he wants.
He nods to Jin, again, and they move together, in the dark, in the lost world that's made up of the pair of them and nobody else. And Jin moves down and breaks Yamapi's rules, muttering obscenities in his ear until Yamapi begs him to stop, at which point he tells him he loves him, a dulcet little whisper, smug, genuine and happy because he knows Yamapi can't tell him off for it. And so Yamapi kisses his collarbone until Jin squirms, until Jin begs him to stop – and Yamapi says it back.
They unravel, because it's what they do best. They get into messes and they splash about in them together. Yamapi unravels like string, his entire body stretches out and his head leans back and his chin exposed, Jin runs his tongue along it, again and again until Yamapi's throat vibrates with the feeling. Yamapi moves Jin's spare hand to his cock, and so Jin strokes it. Yamapi's throat vibrates a bit more, a bit louder, Jin's name in his mouth. Yamapi presses his hips up, an urging, a challenge, so Jin moves faster, harder, biting his own lip. They unravel together, like string, a whole ball of it rolling down a hill, going faster and faster until the ground looms beneath them and they slam into it and it's the best feeling in the whole world.
The loudest feeling in the whole world, too: Yamapi's throat hurts from yelling. Jin's arms are shaking and Yamapi has to gently knock them out from under him, to get him to lie down.
“I lost,” he says, although it comes out mangled because Jin can rarely speak properly after sex.
“Yep,” Yamapi says, stroking his head. “You're definitely Robin.”
Seeing as Jin lost, they see no reason to return to abstinence. Their strength of character tested, they pride themselves on lasting four days and thoroughly anticipate succeeding over the course of six months. Yamapi visibly relaxes, tears up his list of things and helps Jin to separate their clothes. Ryo pays them both a visit, to say goodbye to Jin and to hopefully get a firsthand glimpse of some relationship drama, but he leaves disgusted declaring the pair of them to be “too stupid for words”.
Yamapi makes his decision on the sixth morning, the day before Jin has to leave. He's not sure why he delays it, because both he and Jin decided what they were going to do, they both decided to be exclusive, but. He wants to mention it. He wants there to be some sort of formality about it. So he tells Jin over breakfast. Jin is done with his soup and he's eating a lollipop. It's blue and so is his mouth.
“So we'll have 'phone sex,” he says, blue-mouthed, around the lollipop.
“Yep,” Yamapi says. “And we'll talk a lot. It'll be fine. We'll manage.”
“Okay,” Jin says. “You could come visit.”
“If I get time off, I will,” Yamapi says. “I wish you'd stop eating that. I can't concentrate when you're doing that.”
Jin grins. His teeth are blue, too. “You can concentrate. Just not on anything but me.”
“Hm,” Yamapi says. “That's my point.”
“Why would you want to concentrate on anything but me, anyway?”
Yamapi studies him, eyes narrowed. “The arrogance thing-”
“You know, Mariko-chan told me something afterwards. We met at school the next day, and she told me that she only went with me because she wanted to get closer to you, and could she have your 'phone number.”
“That makes no fucking sense,” Yamapi says. “Why didn't she just ask me? She never even talked to me.”
“Girls are weird,” Jin shrugs. “She said she didn't want you to think she was a slut.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Jin grins, finishes his lollipop. “I knew you'd decide you were Batman because of it. Anyway, by then I'd seen that you were looking at me and not her, and...I dunno. I got jealous.”
“You didn't do anything about it, though. You're weird, too.”
“Well, neither did you,” Jin points out. “We're both weird. And stupid.”
“Ryo is right,” Yamapi says, resignedly. “We live in a world that makes no fucking sense.”
They spend the day watching old movies and eating, just enjoying each other's company. Yamapi takes pictures of them being stupid. He takes pictures of Jin doing all the things that Yamapi forbid him from doing: Jin dances, Jin walks around naked and wet, Jin sneering. Sometimes, a combination of all three things. And Yamapi laughs a lot, so all in all, it's the perfect last day.
The morning Jin has to leave on his flight is just like any other, which is partly what makes it hard. He rubs up against Yamapi to wake him up, so Yamapi rolls on top of him, sleepy and stuck in the sheet, and they rub together, neither of them properly awake enough to appreciate it. Jin's eyes are warm and dark and he watches Yamapi getting off, which is the moment Yamapi suddenly understands what a turn on it must have been for Jin at fifteen, to have captivated his best friend's attention so entirely.
Halfway through, when Yamapi still has some sense left, he leans over and switches the camera on the bedside table to video-mode. Jin barely notices, because he's blatantly groping Yamapi's arse with one hand and stroking his fingers down the small of his back, to his hip, with the other. It makes Yamapi shudder, which is good friction, which is good everything, and Jin closes his eyes as Yamapi settles back in his lap. He tilts his head back at the same moment Yamapi does, and it's clumsy, and awkward, and not in the least bit graceful, the shoving, the thrusting, the wild chasing of pleasure. But in the end, it's fireworks. It's fire running through the blood. It's unraveling like string. It doesn't make sense, but it's them.
This time, Jin comes first, and he repeats Yamapi's name seven and a half times. It might have been eight, in the end, but it's on the 7.5th that Yamapi comes, so he's no longer concentrating.
Three weeks after Jin leaves, Yamapi remembers the video. He caught the whole thing, much to his surprise. He's never had much luck with technology.
He transfers the video and the pictures onto his laptop, puts the lot on a DVD. Wraps it in an envelope and sets about writing a letter. Only he's not sure what to say, so in the end, it's a note.
Robin,
I wanted to write lots of stuff so that you'd think I was pining over you all the time, and all that, but all that's really important is that I miss you. And you better be missing me, not chasing Californian tail.
Anyway, check this stuff out. You'll know what it is when you see it.
Here's to abstinence, and truths, and DVD porn. See you in six months, idiot.
Batman.
PS. Alfred misses you, too. Even though he says Japan's more peaceful without you. He's working on the Batmobile as we speak.