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Yudai’s entire body is buzzing. He's usually better at handling the post-concert adrenaline, but tonight – the opening night of the tour – he thinks he's allowed to be a little extra hyped. Even with his in-ears removed now, he can barely hear the excited chatter of the members around him. His whole body is on fire, he has sweat through his shirt and his pants are clinging to his body.
He's been half hard for the better part of an hour now.
Though his jeans started off comfortable after their quick change for the last segment, he can't take it for much longer now. Yudai craves to get rid of his clothes and take care of his… pressing issue.
Over the chaos of the post-show wrap-up, he makes eye contact with Fuma.
Oh.
Fuma is breathtaking tonight. Even more so than usual. The hairstylists have really outdone themselves with him, his extensions were clearly the surprise of the show. There's no doubt in Yudai’s mind that their fanbase will go crazy over it online.
Not that Yudai has half the mind to think about that now because Fuma looks like he's been eyeing Yudai for a while. His cheeks are flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. Yudai suspects he might be sharing the same thoughts.
And as the crowd between them slowly thins out, Fuma's eyes drop on the front of Yudai's pants.
“Excellent job tonight, boys!” Their manager steps to the members with a bright smile. Yudai should bask in it. He's been busting his ass for weeks now, preparing to be the best version of himself for Luné, for the members. He usually takes pride in being on top of his game.
It just seems that tonight, his priorities are a little different.
Fuma is still staring at him. Fuck.
“We have prepared a little celebration for you,” the manager goes on, looking around the boys proudly. “The first two cars are ready to take you back.”
“Just two?” Nicholas asks with a frown.
Their manager smiles back apologetically. “The third one had some issues, but it's on the way.”
“I'll stay back,” Yudai offers before anyone else can speak up. He feels Fuma's burning gaze on his face. The boys stop for a second, but the promise of a hearty meal – and most probably some alcohol – makes it really hard for anyone to object.
“As expected of our eldest.” The manager nods, like he is relieved that he doesn't have to pick someone himself.
And that should be it. The others would fit in two cars, so Yudai expects them to be on their way. It's all okay, he needs to find a bathroom anyway.
“I’ll stay with you.”
Fuma's voice is measured, just like his expression where the others turn to stare at him as one. Yudai is lucky that no one else sees him as his lips pull into a smirk.
As soon as the empty dressing room’s door shuts behind them, Yudai is pressed up against it. The force of it knocks his head against the hard wood, but he has no complaints as Fuma's lips find his own.
It's like muscle memory. Fuma’s thigh between Yudai's legs, Yudai's hands in his hair. Except, it feels just a little different now.
“Fuck, I love this,” Yudai mewls and tugs at the extensions to make Fuma look up at him. “You look so good, it's almost unfair.”
“Not that you looked at me much tonight,” Fuma grunts back, and goes in for Yudai's neck next. There's a slight tension in his tone, one that makes Yudai's stomach curl for all the right reasons.
“Who else would I’ve been looking at?” Yudai chuckles breathlessly, and pulls at his hair again. He hopes to god the extensions are strong enough.
“No one. That's the thing,” Fuma mutters and bites down on Yudai's exposed collarbone. He's an expert at biting just hard enough so that it doesn't leave a mark. “You're this hard and you didn't even need my help for it.”
“I don't follow.” Yudai is breathy and pent up, his hips rutting down against Fuma's strong thigh for friction.
“Oh, but you do.” Fuma's lips attach to the side of Yudai's neck. His hand on Yudai's hip slides under his shirt and kneads him hungrily as his own hardness presses against Yudai. “You always feel yourself on stage, but tonight… you loved being watched even more than usual, isn't that right?”
It's one of those rare moments when Yudai is speechless. A shiver runs down his spine, his whole body stiffening against the door behind him.
He feels Fuma grinning against his neck.
“I knew it.”
“That's not– Fuma,” Yudai whimpers as Fuma presses closer between his thighs, his cock throbbing in its confines.
“Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it,” Fuma goes on, his hands slipping on Yudai's ass and squeezing him. “You're so hot, it makes sense that you turn yourself on.”
Yudai moans at the sensation. And if it wasn't bad enough on its own, there's one thing Fuma doesn't know about.
“We don't have time for this, we have to go soon, just– get to it already,” Yudai grunts as he wiggles in his hold.
“As much as I want to, I can't ruin you today. We have another show tomorrow.”
His sweet Fuma, always the gentleman. Always thinking ahead.
Lucky for him, he's not the only one.
“I have a plug in.”
A pause, just for a beat.
Then, the speed with which Fuma manhandles him to the nearest dressing table is insane. Yudai barely has time to moan before he lies face down against the surface, back arched automatically. Fuma undoes Yudai's jeans and tugs them down around his knees, along with his underwear. Yudai shivers at the same time as Fuma groans, pulling Yudai's cheeks apart and catching sight of the promised plug.
“Holy shit, Kei, you're crazy.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
Fuma can't help but tease the plug inside Yudai, two fingers pushing at it until Yudai moans. To his credit, though, he doesn't waste more time than necessary. He carefully pulls the plug out, the squelching sounds hinting at the amount of lube still on Yudai's hole. Good enough. Not perfect, but good enough.
Yudai can hear Fuma fumbling with his own belt and zipper, the buckle clinking on the ground as it drops.
“Fuck, you're beautiful,” he hears Fuma whisper, and he leans down just to press a kiss on Yudai's asscheek. Then, after spitting in his own hand to lube himself up, Fuma taps the head of his cock against his entrance.
The stretch is delicious.
It's what he's been waiting for all night. Yudai bites down on his lip until he feels Fuma bottom out, quickened breaths matching. Fuma's hands find their usual place on both sides of his hips and he slowly starts moving, careful just until Yudai gets used to the burn.
“I– shit.” Yudai makes, with a breathless chuckle. “Fuma…”
“Patience,” Fuma grunts as he holds Yudai still, keeping his pace steady and excruciatingly slow. “That plug wasn't as big as me.”
Yudai's stomach drops. “God. I love your post-concert confidence.”
Fuma just chuckles at that, though Yudai can tell he's doing everything he can to restrain himself.
“Well, I have to make sure you concentrate on me now,” Fuma muses and pushes in deeper. He leans over Yudai, lips right by his ear as he whispers. “Though I get it. You're incredible on stage. You like the thought of making people want you, don't you?”
Yudai moans, Fuma's words sending a wave of pleasure straight south.
“I bet they wonder what it would feel like, having you like this.” Fuma's voice is deep, husky with want and a streak of possessiveness that makes Yudai's toes curl. “Too bad none of them will ever get a taste.”
“Fuma…” Yudai gasps as Fuma gives a handful of well-aimed thrusts, right against his prostate.
“Say it.” Fuma groans. “Tell me you don't need anyone else.”
“I– don't.” Yudai's knees wobble as Fuma starts picking up pace, fucking him with deep, deliberate rolls of his hips. “Don't need anyone– god, more…”
“That's right.” Fuma presses his lips against the side of Yudai's neck. His tongue laps at the few drops of sweat rolling down Yudai's skin. Yudai's hand comes up to tangle his fingers in Fuma's long blond locks in response. “They wouldn't know how to fuck you anyway. Until you forget to perform and come apart under me.”
With a whimper, Yudai starts fucking back against Fuma's thrusts. It's messy and fast, both of them chasing their release now, the dressing table rocking under them. Yudai has a tendency to get loud, but now Fuma acts before he could. As much as he usually loves hearing what he does to Yudai, Fuma places a hand over his lips now to silence him. It only makes Yudai braver. He pulls up a leg on the dressing table to give Fuma more access, craning his neck to catch his eyes.
And Fuma understands him without a word. His free hand slips on Yudai's cock, rock-hard and aching, and he starts jerking him to the pace of his thrusts. Yudai sobs against his fingers, so overwhelmed that he can't think of anything but Fuma Fuma Fuma.
“C’mon, hyung. Come for me.”
Yudai's orgasm washes over him on cue.
His body arches with full force, clenching down around Fuma's cock, and he would beg him to keep going, to fill him up, if it wasn't for Fuma's iron grip on his jaw. His body does the begging for him, though, because Fuma follows suit. He comes inside Yudai, shooting his release with stuttering hips and a deep moan of Yudai's name.
Fuma fucks him through both of their highs, movements only slowing as Yudai goes limp under him. They're both panting hard, the air around them hot and heavy with the smell of sex.
When Fuma pulls out, he removes his hand from Yudai's lips and his weight from his back. It makes Yudai shiver with the sudden loss of it, but Fuma only takes a second before he returns with some wipes. He lets Yudai lie on the dressing table for another minute as he cleans him up, fingers raking through his damp hair comfortingly, then he tends to himself as well.
“You did so well,” Fuma whispers and caresses the small of Yudai's back before he plugs him up again and dresses him up.
“You'll be the death of me.” Yudai is trying to get his legs to work again, pushing himself up from the dressing table. He almost loses his balance but Fuma is right there, hugging him around his waist and steadying him on his feet.
“Hope I gave you something to think about on stage tomorrow.” Fuma chuckles as he leans in to kiss Yudai's lips softly.
A knock comes from the door, their manager calling for them to let them know the car is almost here. Fuma does the talking for the two of them, promising the manager they'll be right there. Once the footsteps fade away on the corridor, Yudai chuckles into Fuma's neck.
“He knows. You never offer to stay behind. I'm sure he knows.”
Fuma smiles to himself and presses a kiss into Yudai's hair. “Good.”