ash (ashesof_hope) wrote,
ash
ashesof_hope

Better Part of Me

Title : Better Part of Me
Pairing : Ryo x Uchi. OTP FTW.
Genre : Smut. Fluff. One-shot.
Rating : NC-17
Summary : I think this is smut but hay, it's smut brimming with RyoUchi love.
A/N : I wanted to write fluff, it degenerated into smut but I think it's pretty good. Somehow, part of my heart was caving in with the love. XDD Cheesy much? It's 4000 words of RyoUchi love. You're prob never going to get something like this again because obviously I got carried away and fluffy smut is so not my thing. Comments = more of RyoUchi. XDDDD

Better Part of Me

Ryo dragged his tired footsteps to the doorstep and juggling the duffel bag in his hands, he fished in his pocket for the keys and unlocked the door. Oh god. He missed the apartment. Everything about it, the clean, minimalist lines and the dark wood furniture that Hiroki favored. The oil paintings that adorned the wall and added an individualistic touch to the apartment. He dropped his bag onto the floor and kicked the door closed with the heel of his foot.

 

And his glance drifted over to the one thing he missed the most. Curled up on the couch in a foetal position, one arm tucked beneath his head and another arm encircling the big Mashimaro plushie that Ryo had bought for him on a whim. When Ryo was not away on his national tours, he was reduced to being Hiroki’s human bolster. Hiroki was basically the type to lie on the bed, tossing and turning as sleep tended to elude him, and something in his arms made him sleep a little easier. Ryo didn’t think he was that good to hug, but Hiroki liked to bury his face in his chest and in a way, he liked to feel his slow breathing as his lashes fluttered and he gradually lost the fight to stay awake.

 

The evening rays streamed in from the white curtain and it cast an orange glow on the bronze streaks in his hair that was fanned out on the couch, staining it the color of the blood-red horizon. Pretty. He made his way quietly over to the couch and he sat on the edge, his hand slowly trailing up the exposed skin of his forearm. He watched little goose bumps rise in the wake, and a little crease furrowed Hiroki’s brows as he murmured an incoherent string of words.

 

He bent down, his lips ghosting over the flaxen skin of his cheek, and Hiroki smelled nice. He always smelled nice. Like a strange confection of strawberry, the Tsubaki shampoo he used and Ryo’s aftershave which he stole all the time because he liked the idea of smelling like the person he loved. Love, such a fearful idea to contemplate a few years earlier but he had come to realize that he did love Hiroki, flaws, warts and all. He didn’t care what other people see Hiroki as, some drunkard failure who threw away his bright future as an entertainer or how the fangirls pinned their hopes and expectations on him. To him, Hiroki was just him, frail one minute and stronger than anyone could ever comprehend the next. The person he loved, the one thing he missed the most whenever he went on the tours with Kanjani 8.

 

He traced the outline of Hiroki’s dusky rose lip, slightly parted and there was a little jerky breath as Hiroki swatted at the irritating culprit of a finger disturbing his peaceful sleep. And Ryo laughed, a deep timbre of a laugh that make a little smile dawn on Hiroki’s face as he caught Ryo’s finger in his hand, and brought it to his mouth.

 

“Tadaima.” Ryo whispered softly before capturing Hiroki’s lips for a kiss, a soft unintrusive one, before it became a tongue tussle as Hiroki grabbed the lapels of his shirt, pulling him down onto the couch. Soon Ryo found himself propping his weight up on his arms, taking care not to crush Hiroki beneath him. A tangle of lanky limbs and the space between their bodies became heated, amatory as Ryo lowered his hips, just enough to make Hiroki feel the hardness straining the front of his pants.

 

“Okaeri.” Hiroki said with a fleeting smile as he felt the hardness prodding his stomach and Ryo’s leg wasted no time in insinuating itself between his thighs.

 

“I think you miss my body more than you miss me.” Hiroki said, his voice raising a few notches as he poked Ryo’s chest with his forefinger. Ryo chuckled and he clasped Hiroki’s wrist.

 

“Same difference. I miss you, I miss your body.” And to prove his point, Ryo slid his thigh agonizingly slow between Hiroki’s groin and Hiroki twisted his body, as he humped himself on that thigh. He heard a little vicious hiss from Ryo and he grinned back, as he watched Ryo’s eyes grow into narrow little slits. When Ryo was furious, he was beautiful. He never quite understood why. Fire flaring in the depths of those cassock eyes, nostrils slightly flaring and his jerky hand movements. Anger with Ryo was a turn-on. Then again, it seemed that when you were in love, everything was a turn-on. Everything was an aphrodisiac and an excuse to just lie in bed all day and revel in the glorious feeling of being naked, in both body and soul, to that one special person.

 

Hiroki tried to grapple for Ryo, but he found his wrists being pinned to the top of the couch by Ryo and the plushie rolled onto the floor, forgotten now that Ryo was back.

 

Hiroki wriggled just a little, pouting his lips as he arched his hips up, and it caused the heat within him to flare up, torching him in licks of white-hot desire as he made a soft breathy sound at the depth of his throat. Fuck. Ryo knew he was going to indulge Hiroki after all, he was pretty much defenseless against Hiroki and his little arsenal of weaponry that had long disarmed him. Ryo slid his hands between their bodies, finding the cock beneath the cotton layer of the sweatpants. He teased the hem of his shirt, splayed his open palm on his stomach in a blatant show of ownership and it seemed that the significance didn’t quite escape Hiroki’s eyes.

 

He watched, hypnotized and transfixed as Ryo’s hand moved down from the flat plane of his stomach, down inside the waistband of his sweatpants. Hiroki sucked in a deep breath as he felt the scalding heat enveloping his desire, firm and yet undeniably gentle. He felt some part of him breaking, splintering into small little shards. So this was what they called love, love in all its entirety. Something that made you cry, rejoice and fumble in the darkness for some kind of reasoning or explanation. Hiroki wasn’t smart. That he knew and admitted readily but he knew he loved Ryo. Inexplicably, something that didn’t require reasoning or proof. He just did.

 

And before he gave his body to Ryo, he had already handed over his heart. Except that Ryo was too fearful of ruining their friendship to accept him. But that didn’t make the feelings within go away. He just kept them inside, for safekeeping and it wasn’t until he got suspended that he found Ryo on his doorstep, slightly drunk but fully aware of everything he was saying.

 

“I don’t know Hiroki. I fucked up didn’t I? I didn’t take care of you, I didn’t watch out for you and now I realized the worst thing I didn’t do. I didn’t tell you I love you.”

 

He could still remember Ryo’s naked admission as he stood on the threshold, afraid to enter without his permission and Hiroki could only manage a smile before he encircled his arms around Ryo. Overcome with joy, because that was the one precious thing that had come out of his suspension and no one, not even Johhny’s could take this away from him.

 

Ryo looked down at the younger man beneath him. Eyes which opened and looked up at him. Liquid pools of cinnamon brown he could drown in. Velvet, he thought as he caressed his cheek. Something was wrong though. He could feel moisture and he frowned as he saw a single tear slip from the corner of Hiroki’s eye and streak down his cheek, like a loose pearl shimmering.

 

“What’s wrong Hiroki?” Ryo asked, his voice laced with concern and worry.

 

“Hmm? Nothing.” Hiroki said as he shook his head, a barely discernable movement as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Suddenly the cell on the table vibrated and the loud jarring sound of an incoming message pierced the silence that had settled over the both of them.

 

“Don’t get that.” Ryo said, his voice low and throaty. He wanted to know why Hiroki looked dangerously close to crying. Anything could have happened while he was away. His protective instinct within him reared its head when he saw that lone tear and he wanted to know why, how and more importantly, who. Because he had slammed his fist into people who had taken liberties with Hiroki before and he could do it again.

 

Hiroki removed himself from Ryo’s arms and he smiled, one of those smiles that always managed to chase Ryo’s gloominess and troubles away.

 

“Let me look at the message ‘kay? After that you get to finish what you start.” Hiroki bent down, smoothing his fingers over Ryo’s tousled hair. Ryo flopped onto the couch as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was tired. Everytime he came home, the fatigue started to sink in after the excitement and adrenalin rush from being onstage receiving the adoring gazes of thousands, faded. And eventually, this was home. This was where he wanted to be and it didn’t take him long to realize that his refuge wasn’t a place. It was a person.

 

He almost dozed off when he realized Hiroki wasn’t back yet. He stood up and made his way into their bedroom. It was just beginning to get dark, and the dim light cast a lonely shadow on the silhouette of Hiroki’s frame who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was hugging his knees, chin propped on the top of his knees and his cell clenched tight in his hands. Not good. Ryo rapped softly on the open door and Hiroki looked up, desperation in those wild eyes.

 

“Hiroki? What’s wrong?” He said softly and he took one step forward. One step that made Hiroki spring to his feet and retreat a few steps.

 

“You cheated. You cheated didn’t you? Sho-chan told me you went out with Leah and Yoko.”

 

Ryo muttered a profanity mentally. He knew he ought to come clean as soon as he saw Hiroki. And he knew if he had been honest, the suspicion wouldn’t have manifested into something worse. But he missed Hiroki so much, he didn’t want to spoil his mood and he knew how insecure Hiroki could be sometimes. But he didn’t mind. Perfection was simply a fallacy of sorts, shortcomings were the things that made loving Hiroki a battle. A battle which Ryo didn’t have any desire of relinquishing. He extended his hand out, taking slow, measured steps towards Hiroki.  

 

“Hiroki. It was with Yoko. I was there. I didn’t do anything.” Ryo said and he watched disbelief flash across his face.

 

“Who the hell are you kidding? It’s Leah fucking Dizon, that woman who reduced you to a simpering idiot on television! And when did Yoko need you as a chaperone for a date?” Hiroki’s voice raised a few octaves, as he gestured with his hands.

 

Ryo lowered his head and when he raised his glance to Hiroki, he watched the tears threaten to spill over from Hiroki’s eyes. How his chin quivered and he bit his lip, disappointment apparent on his face. He had no excuses. Honestly. He had no idea why he had gone along. Leah Dizon was pretty. Pretty in the vapid sort of way. After half an hour, he realized he didn’t have anything in common with her. Except their common fixation with her looks and somehow, after that, Ryo was filled with slight distaste. And he found himself thinking of Hiroki, that bright gorgeous smile, how he would listen to him, just nodding and listening. And somehow, all the prettiness in the world couldn’t compare with that one person he knew was waiting at home for him. Nothing.

 

Uchi opened the door of the wardrobe. Their huge wardrobe since Ryo was pretty much a clothes whore and he liked the idea of putting Hiroki and his clothes together. It seemed to symbolize how their lives were closely interlocked, how their clothes hung side by side in the wardrobe. Hiroki pulled out a navy blue shirt and threw it at Ryo, the bundle of material just missing his head by a narrow inch.

 

“Hiroki……”

 

“Don’t you try that patronizing way of talk with me.” Hiroki said, and Ryo thought he looked insanely gorgeous when he was being unreasonable. Dark eyes glittering and face all flushed.

 

He pulled out another shirt and Ryo recognized that shirt instantly. “Sweetie. That’s Dolce & Gabbana.”

 

“Really?” Hiroki flipped the shirt and studied the label of the shirt for a second. Ryo didn’t mind Hiroki throwing shirts as long as his temper got some sort of release but Hiroki was always overcome with contrition afterwards. It wasn’t exactly healthy to be doing things he knew Hiroki would regret later.

 

He watched Hiroki’s mouth form a silent ‘o’ as he looked at the shirt with a slightly contemplative look on his face.

 

“Okay. Dolce & Gabbana huh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good.” That was the last thing he heard before his sight was obscured by a tangle of cloth that landed straight on his face. Apparently Hiroki had perfect aim. He just had to choose the wrong time to showcase this hidden talent. And Ryo was mad. He knew he was wrong, but Hiroki needed to know that there was something he didn’t tell him. How the girls he saw around his friends only served to strengthen his love for him. That he had to know.

 

He strode over to Hiroki, clasping his wrist and backing him up against the wall. And he dragged his hand over to his hardness, pressing the open palm hard against his jutting erection.

 

“You wanna know the truth? This is the truth. I don’t like her. She’s everything I like in a girl but I can’t even fathom the thought of staying in the same room with her for more than an hour alone. Because I don’t love her. The person I love is currently throwing a jealous fit over some inconsequential girl who left my mind the moment I walked out of that place. Alright?”

 

Ryo didn’t know where he got the lines from. It sounded like something like a drama, rehearsed and orchestrated. But it was real, from the bottom of his heart. For someone who wasn’t used to showing his true feelings, it was an amazing feat on its own. And he watched Hiroki’s eyes studying him intently, and he didn’t avert his gaze. Just stared straight back.

 

“I don’t know whether to believe you.” Hiroki finally muttered softly, beneath his breath as though he was talking to himself.

 

“Believe this.” Ryo said, as he slanted his mouth over Hiroki and he heard the soft little whimper from Hiroki. Their tongues engaged in a fierce tussle, and Hiroki suckled Ryo’s bottom lip hard into his mouth, before nipping it. Ryo withdrew a few inches to look into Hiroki’s eyes, fierce and unwavering.

 

“If you even try anything funny outside, I’m going to bite off more than your bottom lip.” He heard the unspoken threat and he couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as a lopsided grin met the veiled humor in Hiroki’s eyes.

 

“And I’ll let you. How about that?” He scalped Hiroki’s nape with his hand and he suckled. Licked every crevice of that warm mouth, and teased the tongue which retreated before thrusting into his mouth in an imitation of sex. And his hand dipped down, undoing the row of buttons on Hiroki’s shirt. The shirt laid precariously open and he bent down, sucking one pert nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. He drank in every nuance of Hiroki’s expression from beneath his lashes. How he bit his lip trying to stifle a desperate moan, how he threw his head back in abandon and his brows knotted in ecstasy.

 

How his lips fell apart and the fricative hiss from his mouth made Ryo’s heart pound against his chest. He moved his lips upwards, to the sternum, feeling the protruding bone beneath the skin stretched taut. He bit down hard and he felt the body beneath him lurch forward. He smiled then, a slightly vicious, feral one as he peeled the shirt off and ran his fingers down Hiroki’s spine, stroking him like he was a gelding.

 

He rolled one distended nipple between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the soft rubbery tip before it grew hard and taut. Aching just like the rest of him was.

 

“Ryo…..” He heard the unspoken plea in that one word and he couldn’t find it in himself to deny Hiroki any further. Or deny himself. With the misunderstanding partly resolved, every touch seemed to be heightened for Hiroki as he wriggled, sighed and gasped. “Ryo…..I want….”

 

“I want….” Hiroki paused, faltering for a minute before he raptly moved his hand over his arm, his fingers drumming playfully above the waistband of his jeans.

 

“I want you on the bed. Bound.” Hiroki said, glance lowered in embarrassment as he kissed the hollow of Ryo’s neck. Sweet gentle coercion and Ryo tipped his face up.

 

“Done.” Ryo took off his clothes with a languid grace, shrugging off his clothes and he laid down on the bed, legs spread slightly and his glance stalking Hiroki’s every move. His eyes narrowed as Hiroki pulled out two silk ties from the wardrobe and he slid out of his pants, teasingly slow, hips swaying as he lifted one knee. Affording Ryo one glimpse of that moist, puckered hole before he lowered his leg again. How he draw himself to his full length before running his fingers through his hair as the thin, wisps fell over his eyes and he watched the willowy frame settle on his hips, just above his raging hard-on.

 

He arched upwards, and his erection rubbed against that moist entry. Both of them drew a rough breath and Hiroki settled his weight more on Ryo, causing the bulbous head to rub against his stomach in a tormenting way that only stoked the fire within Ryo. He tied the silk ties, tight enough to limit movements and Ryo winced a little. He was on the bottom. Oh god. Somehow he felt an odd thrill running through him. It was purely decadent and sinful, just the way he craved it.

 

He watched Hiroki stretch his arms above him, his body sinewy and an erotic combination of soft femininity and sharp angular lines of masculinity. He was the personification of androgyny made sexy and Hiroki swirled his tongue above one areola, his eyes watching Ryo. Moist, hot torture before he blew his breath on it, watching the nipple pucker and he gave it a rough pinch, sending Ryo’s senses reeling as he tugged and yanked hard on his binds.

 

It was interesting how Ryo, who was normally so verbal, had now reverted to non-verbal responses. Grunts of pleasures, guttural moans that sounded like he had wrung them forcefully from the depths of his soul. And Hiroki trailed off lips down as Ryo watched with fascination, unable to look away. Hiroki stopped just at the top of his hardness, a smile grazing his lips before he opened his mouth. Just wide enough to take the bulbous head of his cock into his lips. Just the head and Ryo was dying.

 

He gripped the root of his cock in his fist, pumping it in sure, precise strokes, scraping his nail along the ridge below as the head was in his mouth, his tongue running over the tiny slit in front. Ryo bucked upwards in protest. His hardened member twitched. From the sex-induced fog gathering in his head, he watched Hiroki sit up. Straddling his hip, and he sucked in his middle finger. His eyes seductive gleaming rhinestones in the dark as he laved the tip of his finger. Then he lowered his hand, easing his finger inside him and his lips fell open.

 

A harsh little cry filled the room. It made Ryo swallow. He watched Hiroki hump down on the finger, the grimace evident on his face, the sweat-drenched hair falling over his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut. It was like a forbidden peepshow, something that he only visualize in the sanctuary of his erotic dreams. Hiroki, neck strained and the corded tendons showing, finger inserted deeply into himself as those eyes, half-lidded, floated over to Ryo and his lips draw back in a smile. He withdrew the finger then and lowered his body, his hard nipples grazing Ryo’s skin and the tendrils of his hair tickling him.

 

Then he took out the lube and Ryo felt the tension ease out of himself. He was beginning to get so worried that Hiroki could get off on his own and leave him hanging in limbo here. He undulated his hips and he watched Hiroki smear the lube on his palm before he ran the sticky fluid over his hardness. Ryo tossed his head back and forth, as his thighs tensed then relaxed. Hiroki was now squatting over his cock now, his hand encircling just the tip and guiding it into himself.

 

Not enough. Ryo braced the soles of his feet against the bed. Hiroki didn’t tie his feet and that had to be a blessing. He thrust upwards, burying in to the hilt and he heard the harsh inhalation from Hiroki as he placed his palms on Ryo’s chest. His body quivering and the hot wetness spasm around him like a silken velvet glove. Hiroki bent down, and the hardness inside him hit an unknown spot within him that sent his insides churning like surf against rock. And his tongue snaked inside Ryo’s mouth, kissing ravenously.

 

“Baby, move. Ride me.” Ryo whispered and he keened, pushing more of himself into Hiroki and he felt the heave of his Hiroki’s chest. He knew Hiroki was stretched, probably needing time to get used to it especially since it had been weeks since their last. He wanted Hiroki to take the reins, maybe this was the only way he could thoroughly convinced Hiroki that he loved him.

 

He rocked himself tentatively at first and the sensation, that full feeling inside him bloomed and built towards a rising crescendo, so overpowering that he lost the last of his inhibition. He raised his body on the strength of his thighs before letting his weight push him down on Ryo. The tightness clenched and unclenched around Ryo and with his legs, he angled himself and gave a hard thrust. And he knew he must have hit Hiroki’s prostrate because he felt small contractions messaging his hardness and he heard the muted little moaning. Whimpers, groans. Fucking symphony flowing from those freshly-kissed, dewy lips.

 

“Hiroki, untie me.” He was so close to coming. On the brink but he didn’t want to. Not yet. Pliant and satiated, Hiroki leaned forward and undid one bind. And Ryo tugged hard on the other one, undoing it before he toppled Hiroki over, his legs spread wide and anchored on his shoulders. His hardness was still inside and Hiroki’s eyes widened a little in amusement before he made a soft little purr of deep satisfaction.

 

He played with the stickiness on Hiroki’s now flaccid length, slicking his skin. And his fingers flirted with the little cleft, meeting the place where they were joined, tracing his finger around in slow, concentric circles. Hiroki liked that, he thought. How he clenched the bedsheet in his fists, his hair pooled out around him as he arched his neck up.

 

And then he raised his hand stroking Ryo’s cheek and the deliberate, profound sweetness of the act made Ryo lose the last vestiges of control he had. He spurted his release into the wet hotness of Hiroki and he laid on Hiroki, his ear above his heartbeat, cherishing that steady little beat.

 

He waited for his breath to normalize, not quite sure whether he should speak. Because if he did, the words would rush out and it seemed Hiroki was encountering the same internal debate because Ryo felt the hot tears on his arm. Tears that were from joy and the beauty of it all.

 

“Hiroki, you have no clue what power you have over me.” Ryo said, the flat palm of his hand moving up and down his back, soothing and warming Hiroki.

 

“I don’t wanna have power over you.” He heard the soft whisper as Hiroki studied him.

 

“You always have.” Ryo said and it was as close as he came to saying it.

 

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