Work Text:
Mon esprit, tu te meus avec agilité,
Et, comme un bon nageur qui se pâme dans l'onde,
Tu sillonnes gaiement l'immensité profonde
Avec une indicible et mâle volupté.
Charles Baudelaire - "Élévation"
What was it about Nicholas Cox?
Seiji plucked across the strings of his acoustic, playing and re-playing the same few bars over and over. Every time he tried to move past the intro, that thought would come back and reset his brain. His fingers repositioned themselves, restarting.
Nicholas was here, in his house. He’d been here all week for fall break— Seiji couldn’t help but be pleased with himself for seizing that opportunity— and it had been, well…
Frustrating as ever, in that sweetly addictive way that Nicholas had brought when he’d crashed into his life.
At first, Seiji thought it was his similarity to Jesse. The way he played— it was missing the refinement that came with years of rigorous practice, but— there was something in him. Energy, creativity, excitement.
Even as he struggled technically, Nicholas held his guitar like it was part of him, like he would never be complete without it. The rhythm in him poured out through his fingers, singing through the strings.
For all Seiji’s dedication, it felt like he would never bridge that final gap between himself and Jesse; he could only make it smaller. Because on top of his skill, Jesse had it too— that lit-up feeling.
Seiji could make his playing look effortless, but it never truly was.
He had thought, when he had his knuckles in Nicholas’s face and his knee pressed into his belly, thrashing each other on the floor of their shared room, that the tension he felt with Nicholas was a continuation of what he’d felt with Jesse. Remembering it, he tasted blood in his mouth.
It turned out to be completely different, though. Nicholas refused to be his enemy. As soon as they’d dusted themselves off, he’d made an overture at friendship. Seiji was blindsided. He’d had no choice but to accept.
But… was it completely different?
Maybe not, he had thought, when Nicholas took hold of his hands and forced him to dance.
When he leaned against him on the Ferris wheel, alone together in a swirl of music and sunset light.
When he heard Nicholas sing.
The pieces that were missing— the technical mastery, the confidence— he wanted to give to Nicholas. It seemed ridiculous, now, that Seiji had ever wanted to play in the band without him.
Seiji looked down at the guitar in his hands. He let his fingers come to a stop.
What if it were Nicholas in his arms, instead?
He’d been haunted by thoughts like this, all the more since Nicholas had been staying here this week. They were roommates— they were always close— but now Nicholas was here in his home, surrounded by all the things he had grown up with.
Nicholas was staying in the guest room, though, so for once they weren’t sleeping side-by-side. They were so intimately close, yet further apart than ever; it was a torturous contrast.
Well, it was hopeless to try to accomplish anything in this state of mind. Seiji stood up, carefully returned his guitar to its place among the others, and then… stood there a moment, fidgeting. He brushed some nonexistent dust from his pants.
He looked around the music room, at his guitars and his piano, and found nothing that he could distract himself with. Almost everything here had felt the touch of Nicholas’s hands. Maybe he should just go to his room and read, or… something.
As Seiji traversed the hall, he passed by the guest room. The door was almost shut, to the point that nothing was visible through the crack but a thin line of light. He paused there, but didn't push it open.
Nicholas was in there, having excused himself to study. Seiji approved of his thoughtful attention to his grades, but he had a suspicion there was more to it than that.
Earlier that afternoon, when they’d been practicing side-by-side at the piano, Seiji had placed his hand over Nicholas’s to guide him, and… instead of traveling to the right keys, they’d lingered there, hands still, warmth dancing between them.
It was only the latest in a series of small touches that Seiji had allowed himself that day, and that week. It was all part of this strange, careful dance that they were engaged in.
Nicholas didn’t shy away from him— he welcomed Seiji’s touch, he leaned into it— but then something would overwhelm him, and they would pull apart.
Seiji was nothing if not observant. He had resolved to let Nicholas take the lead in escalating their intimacy. It was a harrowing test of his self-control, but it was the only thing to do.
He found himself in the privacy of his own room at last. Seiji closed the door behind him, gave it a moment’s thought, and then pushed in the lock.
Whatever this was between Nicholas and himself, it was important— precious— and he wouldn’t dare to rush it.
But that didn’t mean he had to think pure thoughts at all times.
Nicholas made it hard, seemingly without realizing. Was he that innocent? Even when he teased Seiji about needing him in his bed, then tackled him and rolled him onto the floor?
Seiji approached his own bed, then, and laid back on it with his arms at his sides. He closed his eyes, imagining what could have gone differently.
Thankfully it hadn’t, because his mother had checked in on them not long after that, but— it was his fantasy. He could edit that out, too.
So, what if he had Nicholas pinned beneath him on the floor again… or maybe on the bed… and instead of struggling away, Nicholas had kissed him?
Seiji found his breathing slowing, imagining the feeling of Nicholas’s lips, then the sweetness of his neck— beneath the natural aroma of skin and sweat and boy, there was a scent inherent to Nicholas. Almost like hazelnut. Seiji wondered if it would taste as enticing as it smelled.
Just like that, his mental image had changed, and now Nicholas was in his lap, his arms twined around Seiji’s shoulders.
Seiji imagined nipping at his ear, sucking at his neck. He knew Nicholas was sensitive there.
What would it feel like to ruck up his shirt and run his fingers over the soft skin of his belly?
“Yeah, but I’m not in it.”
He had to know…
“How do I look?”
Nicholas had to know…
“Seiji…”
No. He probably had no idea of the— magnitude of the effect that he had on Seiji. If he did, the teasing would constitute cruelty.
And Nicholas would never be cruel.
He was earnest, and sweet, and blind to the power that gave him. He didn’t know how much he meant to Seiji, or how devastatingly hot he was.
But Seiji would show him the moment he had the chance.
His bedroom was quiet and clean, untouched by the entropy of daily living since he’d gone away to school. Odd how he’d gotten used to Nicholas and his mess; even hidden behind the curtain, it was a comforting presence that made their room feel lived-in. This place was home, but it now felt like something was missing.
Seiji opened his right eye just a crack to glance at the door— it was indeed locked. After years of living in this room, he could identify the minute difference in the shadow when the button was pressed in.
He just needed to get himself off, he thought, and then maybe he could focus.
Businesslike, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his briefs down enough to comfortably free his dick. He was soft, but the direction of his thoughts had put a buzz in his blood, and it responded positively when he touched it.
Seiji swished his tongue in his mouth to draw up some saliva, then gave his palm a messy lick. That would be enough wetness to get him started.
As he began to stroke himself— fondling softly around the base, then the head— he summoned up his usual catalog of fantasies. There was a time when he would revisit his own experiences, but they had faded somewhat in his mind; it felt wrong to dredge up those memories right now, anyway.
So, porn it was. Bits and pieces from videos he liked, faceless guys getting fucked. The images usually got the job done, even if they were just in his head.
But Nicholas wouldn’t leave him alone, even now. Suddenly Seiji was imagining him as his cock began to stiffen.
He thought of Nicholas's warm breath in his ear. "Look at me." Seiji didn't need to be told twice.
His hand came to a halt, his fingertips resting on his frenulum. He shuddered as he exhaled.
It felt… dangerous to be thinking of Nicholas while he was doing this. It was hard enough to control himself when they touched, but if he indulged these thoughts…
No, he told himself, it was better to get it out of his system. His dick was already getting hard. Seiji circled the tip with his fingers, teasing himself with a gentle touch.
He didn't normally do this; it felt electric, too much and not enough. Seiji hummed, letting his fingers wander further down his shaft.
He allowed himself to imagine Nicholas doing the same. How did Nicholas touch himself, he wondered? Surely he did it, but— they shared a dorm, so it would have to be when he was away from Seiji. In the shower, maybe? At night when he was asleep? Or was Nicholas bold enough to make extracurricular use of the practice rooms?
Each of these images sent a sharp wave of arousal through him. He lingered on the thought of Nicholas in the last practice room at the end of the hall, door locked, hoping not to get caught as he stole a moment of pleasure.
No, that was too risky for either of them, but Seiji liked the thought of it anyway. He wrapped his fingers around his erection, squeezing it. A bead of precome emerged from the tip.
A new thought came to him then, more thrilling than the rest. Nicholas was here for a whole week. If he was anything like Seiji, or, well, most guys, then… Would he possibly…
Seiji swallowed. The image of Nicholas in the guest room in his house, jerking off— it was ridiculously self-indulgent, and— judging by his body's response, exactly what Seiji needed. His cock twitched affirmatively between his fingers.
He stroked himself more firmly, trying to imagine how Nicholas did it. He was left-handed: the same hand that strummed the strings of his guitar, producing such rough, beautiful sounds. What kind of sounds would Nicholas make under the touch of his own hand?
Was he slow and gentle with himself, or fast and frantic? Did he give special attention to the head, or did he stroke it from base to tip?
And then there was the question of… what it looked like. What it would feel like. If, and when, Seiji had the chance to get his hands on it.
He was fully hard now, precome beginning to dribble forth, and he came to the realization that this would get messy.
Seiji was quite alone in this corner of the house, so— why not? He paused to sit up and yank off his shirt, throwing it on the floor beside him. Then he raised his hips to peel off his jeans and underwear, and… socks, too. Might as well.
Fully naked, he indulged in the rare feeling of soft blankets against his skin, and the mental image of Nicholas stroking his cock. He imagined that Nicholas would close his eyes, biting his lip and whimpering when it felt especially good, and the thought made Seiji do the same.
Maybe one day, they would do this together— watching each other, enjoying the sweet sounds of pleasure. Just like when they had sung together. And Nicholas had been so nervous, at first, to show that side of himself, but… then he had opened up to Seiji, and it had been unspeakably beautiful. This would be the same, when he was ready.
Seiji shifted, squirming as he increased his pace. His pleasure expressed itself in unvoiced, breathy sighs— it didn't usually feel this good, just the touch of his own hand, but these thoughts of Nicholas were so much more potent than he'd anticipated, speeding up his heart and his breathing—
He hoped that Nicholas could understand it even a little, what he'd done to him.
He returned to the thought of Nicholas whispering his name— Seiji— as he rubbed himself desperately, hard and slick as he thought about Seiji, who was thinking about him, elsewhere in the house— if that were to ever happen, well…
The feeling of Seiji’s hand on his cock was sending darts of pleasure through his body. From the tip to the base, then through his gut and down to his fingers and toes…
He licked his lip, then bit it, concentrating. He was about to come— that familiar feeling, like a static wave, ready to consume his body whole.
Once more, he returned to the thought: Seiji, whispered in his ear, the sensitive skin there tickled by Nicholas’s breath. Nicholas saying his name.
He wanted to hear it a thousand times, to make him gasp it, in that beautiful voice that only Seiji had coaxed out of him, and—
He went over the edge.
Seiji groaned as he came, deep and low and louder than he should, but he couldn't control it. His semen shot out onto his chest, decorating the little dark hairs that grew there. Another spurt, then, onto his belly. It felt endless. Like he would never stop coming, thinking of Nicholas, only Nicholas, until the rush of blood subsided from his ears, and…
Everything was quiet.
After he'd collected himself, wiped himself off with his t-shirt and changed into another, which hopefully would go without comment, Seiji straightened his shoulders and exhaled deeply. Time to wash up.
In the bathroom, he carefully lathered his hands with soap, all the way up to his wrists, for a full sixty seconds. Dried himself off; applied a fresh coat of deodorant; straightened his hair. Looking back at himself in the mirror, his eyes were a bit glassy.
He could go and resume his practice now that all that was out of the way. Except…
He remembered, suddenly, what had been on the weather report this morning; while he and Nicholas were eating breakfast, his mother had turned to him and commented about the incoming blizzard.
Seiji still felt a pulse of something dark in his chest, but it was faded. Time, and the warm presences around him, scratched out the fear. With Nicholas so much on his mind today, he hadn't thought about it at all.
Despite that— or, well, because of it— he didn't want to go back to the music room. Instead, his thoughts called him to the guest room. Nicholas wouldn't mind a brief interruption, he thought. A distraction from his studies could even be welcome.
Seiji dabbed a touch of cologne on his neck, then fixed his hair yet again. The familiar sweetness tingled at his nose like a protective spell.
He would have to stay here a while longer, until he'd fully regained his composure, but… yes, he decided, he would do it. He would let Nicholas into another piece of his life, and see if he accepted the invitation.