[Real Person Slash] [Sho/Aiba (Aiba/Sho?)] Hunger

[Title] Hunger
[Author] honooko
[Rating] Soft-R?
[Notes] I spent so long trying to make this full-on porn, but Sho!Muse refused. I'M SORRY, I'VE FAILED. D: For darkeyedwolf, since she mentioned wanting Arashi!Fic.

Sho looked up when Aiba entered, glancing at him briefly before sliding his gaze back to the book in his hands. And then with a jerk, his head snapped up, his eyes glued to the sight in front of him. Aiba’s hair was wet, sticking to his skin, dark with moisture. Thin rivulets of water occasionally slid down his neck, soaking into the collar of a white button-down shirt. The shirt hung open, doing nothing to hide Aiba’s long slender torso, leading the eye down to a simple pair of black jockey shorts.

Quite against his will, Sho made a small whimpering sound in the back of his throat, only barely biting back a moan. He would not, could not, have Those Sorts of Thoughts about Aiba-chan; sweet, innocent, childlike Aiba-chan. Except that the irrational portion of his mind was pointing out in a remarkably reasonable tone that none of those terms currently applied, so wasn’t it okay to devour the younger man just this once?

No, Sho thought fiercely. Absolutely not.

Aiba padded slowly towards him, his eyes dark and half-lidded. Every step was a sensuous slide of muscle under skin, and seemed to be designed to highlight every appealing aspect of Aiba’s body.

A man’s body, Sho’s mind added. Not a child’s.

Shut up, Sho replied cleverly. Stupid pervert brain.

And with a start, Sho realized that Aiba’s burning gaze was currently raking up and down his body. He couldn’t hold back the shudder that twitched under his skin; his pants felt considerably tighter than he recalled them being when he put them on that morning.

You want to kiiiiiiss him, Sho’s mind trilled gleefully.

Lies, Sho snarled back.

You’re right, his brain corrected helpfully. Actually, you just want to press him to a wall and fuck him silly.

There would be nothing silly about it, Sho argued.

Aiba came to a stop right in front of Sho. Tilting his head back slightly, Aiba’s right hand dragged teasingly down his bare chest, stopping just short of the waist. His mouth parted slightly, the very tip of Aiba’s tongue darted out to dampen his lips.

Well, fuck, said Sho’s mind in awe.

You’ve got that right, Sho agreed.

Purring in a disturbingly sexy way, Aiba placed his hands on either side of Sho’s shoulders and leaned forwards. Sho froze in mute horror; this was very not right. Aiba’s mouth leveled with Sho’s ear, and his warm breath puffed across it.

“Sho-chan,” he husked. “How loud can you scream?”

“I, uh. That’s. Er, well—” Sho stammered, wondering how one sentence could completely render his entire vocabulary utterly useless.

Aiba didn’t give him a chance to find his words; instead, he fisted a hand in Sho’s collar and dragged him forward for a rough, bruising kiss. He licked at the back of Sho’s teeth, growling into the older man’s half-open mouth. Gasping a touch desperately, Sho pulled Aiba into his lap, wrapping an arm around his friend’s waist. Aiba chuckled and slid one hand down Sho’s chest before firmly cupping him through his pants. Sho moaned, thrusting automatically against Aiba’s hand. Taking the chance to attack Sho’s neck, he scraped his teeth across Sho’s throat.

Something in Sho snapped like a thread pulled too tight. His pushed the shirt off Aiba’s shoulders, sucking on his collarbone and sliding his hands across Aiba’s chest eagerly. Pleased with this behavior, Aiba tugged insistently on the hem of Sho’s t-shirt, moaning in a tone that implied demand. Never one to ignore Aiba-chan, Sho pulled the shirt over his head and threw it in a random direction, caring not a whit for its whereabouts. Following the t-shirt in a glorious white arc, Aiba flung his wife-beater with great force, promptly flopping on his back and dragging Sho down with him.

Sho ground their hips together, rough and dominating. Aiba groaned, fisting a hand in Sho’s hair as he writhed. When the older man’s hand danced around the waistband of Aiba’s shorts, he wasted no time in wiggling out of them. Sho licked at his chest, enjoying the tang of Aiba’s sweat on his tongue. But then Aiba tugged sharply on his hair, pulling his head up.

“Sho,” he said (Not ‘chan’! Sho’s brain squealed. ‘Sho!’). “Blow me.”

“...What?” Sho replied, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

“Blow me,” Aiba repeated, thrusting up against Sho’s body as an added hint. Fortunately, Sho was a genius, and more than happy to obey. He shimmied down Aiba’s body, licking and sucking a path. Pressing a chaste kiss to Aiba’s hipbone, he murmured into the skin, “Masaki.”

“Less talk, more suck please,” Aiba commented dryly, wiggling in what he hoped was an enticing manner. Ever agreeable, Sho did as he was asked.

~

“You look happy,” MatsuJun observed as Aiba practically twirled around the room. Grinning over his shoulder, Aiba bounced back to Jun’s side, tackling him in a hug reminiscent of being hit by a bus.

Giggling, Aiba said, “That’s because it worked.”

“Oh?”

“Yep!” The taller boy chirped. “You were exactly right; Sho is M!”