Authoress's note: here before you are 1708 words' worth of my writing pure smut, (but humorous smut!) which was inspired by an episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. It's entirely the Fab 5's fault! (See end note for further explanation).
Rating: M. As in, the equivalent of R or NC-17. This is SMUT, people! With just a bit of bondage, heh.
Disclaimer: if I owned the cast of Gravitation, this is how they would act. Need I say more?
The Perils of Formal Black-Tie Events
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I'm already home when you return. You've been to the latest of your book-related events; this time it was a formal dinner celebrating the first movie production of one of your books. It was black-tie, (or bowtie, in your case) and I'm glad I got home before you, because now I get to see you all dolled up in a tuxedo. And, even better, I get to be the one to take it off.
I'd have gone with you, but I had an event, too. Not black-tie, (fortunately) but also a celebration: Bad Luck's latest album, hyper-squared, has gone double-platinum. The party began at noon with a concert which included some of our older hits as well as the new: The Rage Beat has made a comeback, it seems. Sakuma-san came to sing with me again.
I tell you all of this as I undress you. You've undone your bowtie already (no doubt in the car on your way home) so I begin by sliding it out of your opened shirt-collar and laying it carefully on the dresser. Then I slowly unbutton your black jacket, admiring the small blossom pinned to your lapel. Next come off the cuffs, and your white dress shirt. I flirt with the buttons of your pants as I go into rather excruciating detail of Ryu-chan's outfit, which was, unbelievably, more colourful and quirky even than mine.
All this time you've been silent, though I've looked up coyly through my eyelashes to see you biting your lip several times – as my fingers graze your nipples, as the palm of my hand pushes against the bulge in your underwear... Finally you've had enough, and you almost growl as you tear the pants from my hands and throw them to the floor. Next you throw me onto the bed, and pounce like the catlike creature your eyes sometimes remind me of.
"Keep talking," you growl dangerously, your first words since arriving home. "I'd like to see you keep talking while I have my way with you."
I laugh and pause in my narrative to swipe my tongue enticingly over my lips. "Give it your best shot," I challenge you. "I am, after all, a vocalist."
You laugh. "God knows, you're vocal in bed. One of these days I'll have to gag you, or the neighbors will complain."
I stick my tongue out at you and raise my arms obligingly as you lift my T-shirt up and pull it off my shoulders. I babble on as your wet mouth latches onto one of my nipples and sucks, while your long, slender fingers slide beneath the waistband of my boxer shorts. You toy with me for a while, obviously wanting revenge for my teasing before that.
Trying my best not to buck up into your warm hand, I decide to exact my own revenge by singing the one song that's always gotten to you: In the Moonlight. You've always said my voice has a rather magical effect on you, not unlike the effect your eyes have on me.
You're panting now, my voice arousing you rather than making you feel dreamy and light, as you once described it. You rip my boxers off completely, gripping me firmly and sliding your fingers up-down. My voice breaks but I make myself sing on, until I've gotten to the last reprise and you're singing with me. In the Moonlight is the only song you know the lyrics to. We finish it together, and you slide up my body to kiss me roughly.
We come up for air some time later, gasping. "Yuki..." I murmur against your lips, and you press a single finger to mine.
"Shhh," you say. "Quiet now. Get the lube."
Crawling across the bed to get to your drawer where the bottle of oil is, I retrieve it and return to my former position on the bed. Meanwhile you've rummaged through the dresser and come up with two silk ties, and something else you hide by stuffing it under the mattress.
"Hands," you say, and I grin as I extend first one hand, then the other. You wrap each wrist gently in the smooth material, the knots neither tight enough to cut off circulation nor to prevent escape, if I wriggled enough. You affix each wrist to opposite ends of the headboard, leaving enough slack in the ties so I can move my arms a bit.
Not enough, though, to reach down and fist your hair when you begin your descent down the length of my cock. I settle for bucking my hips, trying to shove deeper down your throat, but your hands push my hips down firmly. My legs come up, feet sliding flat against the mattress, thighs already glimmering with sweat.
Lips and tongue still wrapped delightfully around my erection, you reach behind me and pull down one of the pillows, maneuvering it under my lower back so that I'm arched beautifully. I relish the stretch in my back, the slight tug of silk around my wrists, the warm wetness around my cock.
"Yuki..." I whisper breathlessly, "Yuki, I'm going to –"
Your beautiful mouth leaves my cock, and you blow a stream of cold air on it. "Oh, no you don't," you grin evilly, and I squeak. I really was just on the brink of orgasm... You've never cared for the taste, so I always warn you when I'm about to come. Your hand comes to the base of my cock and squeezes, delaying my orgasm undeniably.
All the air leaves my lungs in a single noisy exhalation. You've done this before, and though it's a bit painful at first, the orgasms I've had after something like this have always been rather mind-blowing, so I don't mind too much.
Until you pull out what you've been hiding under the mattress, and I see that it's the bowtie. My eyes widen and I squeak again, hands tugging at the ties around my wrists. You wouldn't...
Your eyes catch mine and you give me that evil grin again, as if to say, Yes I would! You wrap the silky black ribbon around the base of my cock and my balls several times, tying it in a very neat bow.
I won't come now, no matter what you do to me. I whimper slightly in erotic frustration, back arching as you reach for the lube, which until now has been left discarded on the bed next to me. Slicking your fingers, you press the tip of one against me, waiting until I've relaxed enough to allow it to enter. I turn boneless when it does, and when a second slender digit joins it I begin to moan.
"Yes, Shu-chan..." you lean down to nuzzle at my bound cock. "Moan for me. Let me hear you. Tell me how much you want me."
"Want you, Yuki," I moan immediately. "Want you inside me ... Yuki, please..."
"I love your voice, Shu-chan. Mm..." you moan appreciatively as you insert a third finger. "You're so tight... sing for me, Shu-chan."
I know you don't really mean for me to sing, but just want me to vocalize my feelings in some way. And vocalize them I do, in moans and whimpers and pleas for more, for now, please!
"Please, Yuki! Don't torture me anymore ... please, I need you now!"
The fingers withdraw, and I moan again when I hear the sound of oil splashing against your skin. I feel the tip of your cock at my entrance, and your hair tickles my cheek as you whisper, "With a voice like yours, how can I resist?"
You enter me slowly, prolonging the sensations and bringing me to a height of ecstasy I've never before reached. I can feel my heartbeat in every part of my body: in the tips of my fingers and toes, in my head, through my bound cock, and inside me where we are joined.
It doesn't take you long to reach climax, but you still last longer than I thought you would. I certainly wouldn't have lasted if not for that damned bowtie around my cock and balls. We both scream as you tip over the edge, and as I squeeze my muscles around you, milking you for every drop, you reach up and tug the bow free.
It's the release I've been waiting for for the past fifteen minuets or so, and I explode over both our stomachs and chests with a shaky, off-key roar that I shall never admit to uttering.
You reach up to untie my wrists once you're steady enough, and slide out of me carefully. You seem somewhat alarmed at my limp state, and stroke my damp cheek gently.
"Shu? Shuichi, talk to me."
I open my eyes and sigh. "Forget talking, Yuki. I'm going to have to write a song later, because that certainly was ... inspiring."
You laugh as you sit down on the bed next to me and gather me into your arms. "Come on, into the shower with you. How do you feel about a bath?"
"Mmm, Yuki, sometimes I really love you."
"Only sometimes?" you ask with a raised brow as you carry me to the bathroom.
"Only sometimes," I agree. "Times like now, for example..."
You sit me down on the edge of the tub with one arm still around my waist and begin filling the tub with water. Once it is half-full of soapy, jasmine-scented warmth, you lower your long frame into it and gently pull me back against your chest.
"Good?" you ask when I moan in appreciation.
"Perfect," I answer as you begin soaping my chest and stomach. "Yuki..."
"Mm?"
"I think I shouldn't come with you to any formal black-tie events in the future."
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because whenever I'll see anyone in a bowtie I'll have to find you and together we'll have to sneak into the toilets and have dirty bathroom sex."
"Right," you answer calmly, though I can feel you getting hard again against my bottom. "No black-tie events, then."
"But what about the dirty bathroom sex?" I whine, grinding back against you.
"I can always come to NG Studios and drag you to the toilets if you want..."
End note: really, it's all their fault. It was the episode with the nudist/naturist, and when they showed him how to wear a tuxedo, Ted asked "Can we put bowties on our Johnsons?" It was all downhill from there. So yeah, blame it on the Fab 5.