Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Finally	By : vampodrama Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > Inoran Views: 7437 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Inoran. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Finally
- 1
Disclaimer: I do not represent these celebrities in any way, nor do I own them. I do not make any profit from this.

I don’t really know how long this has been going on. It’s like it’s always been there, I just haven’t noticed it, or something. Funny, really. One would think you’d notice something like THAT. Apparently I’m dumber than I’d thought.

Of course there’s always been something. From the very beginning. Back in high school, I remember that, but then I wrote it off to my teenage hormones. And the years after that, when I brushed it off to the far dusty corners of my mind, trying to ignore it, saying to myself it’s only my imagination. Somehow it worked, for a long time. And now it doesn’t, not any more.

Am I being vague enough yet?

Alright. I’ll spell it out for you. I’m in love with my best friend and bandmate. Hopelessly and moronically in love, and terribly, terribly in lust. Those two go hand in hand, don’t they? Most of the time, anyway.

As I said, I can’t even recall when did the feelings of friendship develop into this, because I suspect it never was just friendship. It was always something more, at least for me, even if I was up to my eyeballs in denial. But I know when it hit me in the face and told me to wake up and admit what was going on. It was when he came back from LA after our year-long break. Not even when he left, because sure, I missed him like hell, but hey, he was my friend, you’re supposed to miss your friends, right? But when he came back…. It was like he set his foot back on the ground of Japan and turned my life, my heart and my sanity upside down.

He had changed. Not a lot, but still, with his thinner body and short hair and the sobered up, more grounded attitude he was in some ways a new man. But his smile was the same, and the bone-crushing bear-hug he greeted me with was the same as well. And I think this was the moment when I realised how badly I wanted him. It hit me so hard that everything in my head became a blur… or maybe it was due to the lack of oxygen in my brain. And the only thing I could say to the man I loved was a weak gasp “Jun… I can’t breathe…!” and he just laughed, released me from his lethal embrace and ruffled my hair playfully.

Amazing moment, really. I’ve been playing it over and over in my memory, for countless times, so maybe my judgement is a bit off. Maybe I didn’t fall in love with him at this exact second. But you know, it doesn’t even matter. What matters is the fact that ever since he was back and we all tried to work ourselves into being a band again, nothing has been the same.

Do you have any idea what it means to be next to him every day, now that I can’t deny to myself how I feel about him? I can’t even begin to describe. It’s a miracle I haven’t gone completely insane yet. It’s the sweetest torture in the world.

So I’ve been wondering, all those little things that drive me mad with desire, how come I never noticed them before? How come I didn’t want to notice? The movement of his long fingers on the bass fretboard, his lips curling around the cigarette, the angled jawline that comes visible as he turns his head... How did I even live and breathe without them?

Admitted, things were indeed easier before. I didn’t turn into a pile of quivering jelly every time he stepped into the room and my heart didn’t miss beats whenever he spoke to me. Considering theunt unt of time we spend together in the band business, I’m surprised I’m still alive.

I sound like a complete idiot, don’t I? Or a lovestruck schoolgirl. Not that there’s much difference between the two of them.

I’m rather happy with my role as the quiet, shy, unseen one. Inoran, who’s always sitting in some corner, silently working on his parts, disguised in cigarette smoke. It gives me the opportunity to observe. Or to ogle and drool. Heh.

How is it possible NOT to ogle and drool when J, our tall, rebellious bad-boy bassist chooses to prance around in black leather pants that are so tight that he probably needs lube to get in and out of them. Did I just say lube? Yeah, a perfect presentation of my typical trail of thought whenever J is around. And he’s not really helping any, with his affection towards the stereotypical rockstar attire and all. What the hell is he thinking anyway, wearing pants like this? Trying to cause his life-long friend a heart-attack? Oh, wait, he doesn’t even know I’m in such danger. My bad. But in a way it’s all good, because it gives him the excuse of ignorance and every right to flaunt his perfect little ass, and it gives me the opportunity to enjoy this. So I’m not complaining.

I light my millionth cigarette for the day and try to concentrate on my guitar. When I work on music, it’s common for me to completely forget about my surroundings. I could easily miss a nuclear war I think, but somehow I always know where J is or what he’s doing at every exact moment when we’re in the same room. It’s like my mind has developed a specific J-surveillance subdivision and it’s reporting back to the headquarters several times a minute. Thanks to this special ability I know that J is currently standing about five meters from me, leaning his elbows on a tall speaker, talking to the sound engineer. He’s scribbling something on a sheet of paper, his back is turned to me so I can’t see his face. But the back is good enough for me, so I catch glimpses of it through the hair that’s covering my eyes. Long legs, slim hips. Strong shoulders, smoothly muscled torso. Tattoo circling a tanned arm. The faint shimmer of silver chains around his neck. He shifts his weight to the other leg and I can’t help staring at his butt. His tight, barely-there, absolutely delicious little butt. I bet God got laid the day he created Jun. That’s the only way to explain this perfection of his body.

He shifts his weight once again and I strike a wrong chord on my guitar. My palms are sweating. How am I supposed to focus on music when J is wiggling his ass right in front of me? And where do I file in my complaint?

My cursing appears to attract a lot of attention in the studio, because when I look up, everyone’s staring at me. I guess I was louder than I had realised.

Apologising, I grin and wave my hands a bit. “Never mind, just screwed up, move on, nothing to see here.” Ryuichi shrugs, Shinya shakes his head laughing, but J gives me a worried look. The sound guy scoots off and J takes the few steps that separate us, crouching down in front of me. He can crouch in these pants?

“You ok?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just a bit tired, you know. My hands can’t keep up with my mind.” My laughter sounds awfully fake to my own ears, especially considering where I would really like my hands to be. All over his body, feeling every single muscle, the softness of his skin, the… I force my mind to stop.

He raises a suspicious eyebrow. “You sure you’re ok?”

“If you ask that one more time, I’ll hit you.”

He chuckles softly. “Ino-chan, you should know by now that you won’t get the best of me.”

Oh yes, being headlocked by J is something I remember very distinctly from our high school days when we indulged in playful wrestling and such. But I wouldn’t mind it that much, nor did I mind it back then. Pressed against his heated body, with his arms around me: I wouldn’t mind this at ALL.

I think I need either a frontal lobotomy or to excuse myself to the bathroom, because those kinds of thoughts are having a certain effect to the certain areas of my body. Would it be awfully lame to jerk off in the toilet simply because my best friend asked me if I was ok?

J doesn’t seem to notice anything, I’m sort of good at keeping my expression either blank or friendly or whatever seems most appropriate at the time. He fidgets with his lighter, pondering on something.

“Listen, do you have anything planned for tonight?”

I shrug, trying to look casual, but inside, my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. “Sure, a magnificent evening in the company of the TV and my cats, why?”

“Oh. I was wondering if maybe we could have a couple of beers or something. We haven’t been hanging out much lately, you know…. But the TV brings my chances down to zero, huh?” he tries to pull his best heartbroken impression, but a mischievous grin is fighting its way through.

“Don’t forget the cats,” I add.

J falls on his knees, clutching his heart and wails “Oh the cruel fate!!!” It’s impossible to stay serious and I burst out laughing, and once again everyone’s eyes are on us. J, ever the joker, now clings to Ryu, who just happened to walk by.

“I can’t believe he’s doing that to me!” he laments, and Ryu’s face is a spectacle of its own as he tries to shake the bassist off him.

“Jeez, Onose, grow up willya?”

J chuckles, completely satisfiith ith his performance and stands up, letting our poor vocalist go. Then he turns to me, smirking, “So?”

“Alright, alright. You win.”

“I always win.” Arrogant son of a bitch, he just knows I’m helpless before him. In more ways then just one. Even without the display of his acting talent.

“So where are you going to wine and dine me?”

He scratches his head. “Uhh, actually I just thought we could lounge around my place. Watch a movie or something.”

“Oooh, you’re gonna cook dinner?” I tease.

“Heh, well, no, unless opening beer bottles counts. I’m still waiting for the moment where I’m gonna wake up one morning with the magically gained ability to cook.”

Then, suddenly, there’s a light thwack of drumsticks on the top of my head and Shinya nags, “If you’re done arranging your hot date, get your asses back to work!”

“Yes, mom, “ J groans and saunters over to his amp set.

Once again in the company of my beloved guitar, the realisation hits me. I’m going to spend the evening with J. In his apartment. Oh. My. God.

If I was a tit mit mof aof a dramatic type, I’d faint right on the spot. But even now my head threatens to start spinning from the unbelievable ecstasy, and yet, at the same time I am completely freaked out. This reaction makes me want to kick my own ass. Grow up, Inoran. You’re an adult, you can control yourself. I just need to keep saying this to myself, or I’ll end up molesting J after half a beer. Oh god. I can’t even figure out what would be the best option, to get drunk with J and possibly losing all remains of self control that I have, or to suffer through everything sober. And as unbelievable as it sounds, for a very brief moment I’m actually considering tricking J into getting totally plastered and then taking advantage of him. Why didn’t it occur to me years before, when being totally plastered was a normal state for J, huh?

That’s it, Inoran. Stop. Just STOP. You’re borderlining psychotic here.

I stand up abruptly and head for the door. Maybe some fresh air will help me clear my head.

It’s windy on the roof, high above the city beating with life. This bright, vibrant city jungle. The wind blows my hair all over the place as I sit down by the wall and lean my head back against the cold concrete. I’m going insane. If that situation doesn’t find a solution soon, I’m nitenitely going insane.

If only I’d be able to figure out a solution.

I’ve spent countless of sleepless nights analysing J’s behaviour to see if there are any signs of him feeling the same. Or feeling slightly more than just friendship. Or just…. anything. I’ve picked apart every single look, every gesture, every word he says, and it’s got meherehere. Either there’s nothing there, or I’ve lost the ability to read him. Or, maybe I just don’t dare to hope?

Hours go by, and here I am, attempting to get ready for our ‘hot date’ consisting of beer and a movie. And I’m having the hardest time of deciding what to wear. Annoyed with myself, I settle for my trusty, worn in jeans and a simple black t-shirt. Jesus, when did I turn into a teenage girl and didn’t even notice?

In the car, the earlier combination of excitement and being freaked sets back in. No amount of nicotine can calm me down right now as every second brings me closer to…what? What exactly am I expecting? The emotional, irrational part of my brain keeps feeding me images of myself and J in a tight heated embrace, a mess of arms and legs and passionate kisses and confessions of undying love. Not that there’s anything new in those kinds of fantasies, though. What kind of a lover would he be? Strong, demanding and powerful? Or careful and considerate? Would he make love to me or fuck my brains out? Either way is fine with me, mind you. Just as long as it means something.

Standing at his front door, I am suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to turn around and run. My survival instinct is at full blast, screaming at me to get the hell out of here and spend the rest of my life huddled under the covers of my bed, but my knees are wobbly and I’m angry at myself for being such anot. ot. It’s only J for christ’s sake. Only J. I scrape my confidence together and ring the bell.

“Hey,” I say as he opens the door and flashes me a huge welcoming smile.

“Hey, Ino. Come on in!”

I poke my head in his apartment and try to gaze around. “Is it safe to come in? When’s the last time you cleaned this place?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He grabs my arm and drags me inside, and all the nerve cells in my body start tingling from his touch. I hope he doesn’t notice. Dear god, I hope he doesn’t notice. Otherwise I’m fucked, and not in the way I’d like to.

His apartment hasn’t changed much since the last time I was here (when was that anyway?). J tells me to help myself with the beer, so I open the fridge and the amount of bottles makes my eyes nearly pop out of my head.

“What are you doing, hosting an army party?”

“Nope. Just planning to get you drunk.”

There’s something in his voice that makes me look up, and there he is, standing in the doorway, leaning oh-so-casually against the wall, looking at me. Just looking. Straight at me.

“What?” It’s sort of uncomfortable, really.

“Nothing.” He turns around and heads for his living room, motioning me to follow. I’m glad his gaze is off me now, because my face is probably glowing twenty shades of red and it feels very hot in here. What the hell was that all about now? Or am I finally cracking and becoming delusional? Nice timing, really.

When I get to the living room, he’s messing with his TV system. I pick up the DVD case from the floor next to him.

“Pulp Fiction, huh?”

“Yup. Have you seen it?”

“Not really. I tried watching it on TV once, but fell asleep after 15 minutes or so.”

“How can you fall asleep during Pulp Fiction?”

“We were on tour.”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “Oh. Ok then. You’re excused.”

Apparently J has seen this movie more than once, because he knows half of the lines. And I find it amusing as hell how he recites Bible passages along with Samuel L. Jackson…. Truly amusing. But if truth be told, I am fast on my way of being drunk. So what? Maybe I can get smashed enough to blurt out my feelings for J at a totally random moment and get it over and done with and get my ass kicked out from his home and never having to face him again and so on. Would take care of the issue, no?

I stare at the TV screen without even seeing the action on it. J is silent. I can feel him watching me.

“Ino?” he asks quietly after a moment of silence. “What’s wrong?”

I shrug and shake my head. “Nothing.”

“You’re the worst liar in the world, I swear.”

“Why are you even assuming something’s wrong?” My words come out slurred, but I couldn’t care less.

“I’ve known you since we were kids, I can tell when something’s wrong.” By now, none of us pays any attention to the movie. I let my head rest against the back of the couch. J is too close. Sng tng that couch with him is too close. The heat radiating from his body and his voice in the darkness of the room make everything inside my mind a blur, or maybe that’s alcohol. I don’t even know what’s real any more. I want to cry. I’m tired.

The warmth next to me disappears and the couch shifts as he gets up. When I open my eyes, he’s standing by the window, looking out into that perpetual buzz that is Tokyo. He looks sad. Did I make him sad? What did I do?

I could just go and hug him, right? He’s my friend, after all. A good friend. The man I love more than I love my own life. That thought makes my heart cramp up in a tight little aching bundle inside my chest. So I stand up as well. Come what may.

But before I can even touch him or say anything, I’m caught in a tight, almost desperate embrace. And something in him changes, his body becoming liquid heat, his heart beating furiously against my own chest. Why is his heart beating so fast?

“Ino….” He whispers, and a shudder runs up my spine as his breath brushes my ear. I can’t move.

What happens next has been a part of my nightly dreams for a long time. He kisses me. His lips move against mine in the most tender fashion I could ever imagine, but instead of devouring his mouth like a wild animal as I always do in my dreams, I’m just standing there, like a statue, too afraid to even think. But still I’m genuinely surprised to see that same fear reflecting in his eyes as he pulls back and takes a shaky breath in.

“I’m… sorry,” he finally whispers, apparently discouraged by my lack of response. And that’s when my brain comes back alive and I try to save that beautiful, amazing chance by pulling his head back down and kissing him for all that I’m worth. And it’s everything I’ve ever dreamt of, his lips, his tongue sliding against mine, hot and smooth. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life. It lasts forever, or until we’re both too out of breath to continue.

He presses his forehead against mine, gently brushing my hair out of my face, stroking my temples, and his lips curl into a small smile, his beautiful, luscious lips that I could kiss forever.

“What… was that about?” I manage to whisper an undoubtedly stupid question. I don’t want to let go of him, so I press even closer to his body, securing my arms around his neck. I’m never letting go, not any more.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, as if any louder sound would wake us from that amazing dream. “I just know… that…” He trails off, his lips moving down to my neck, teeth grazing against my sensitive skin, tongue flicking over the madly beating e. Ie. I throw my head back and whimper quietly. It’s the only thing I can do.

But he didn’t finish his sentence. And right now, it matters, even if I can guess, or at least hope, what he’ll say.

“What do you know?”

“I want you… so badly.” The one thing I’ve been desiring to hear for so long is breathed into my ear, sealed with a searing kiss on my neck, his hands on my back, holding me even closer until we’re about to merge into one being. And I can feel it. How bade mue must want me. His hardness is pressing against me, sending a delightful shock through my body.

“Jun…”

“Please don’t hate me for this.”

What the hell is he saying?

“Please don’t hate me.” His lips never stop their assault to my face and neck, while I can only cling to him and dig my fingers into his short-cropped hair to make sure he doesn’t pull away.

“Does it really look like… I’m… hating you right now?” I nearly strain my pleasure-hazed brain with this sentence, my breath coming out in irregular gasps. How to convince this big idiot?

I slide my hand down his back and squeeze his butt, pulling his hips against mine, and he gasps, a truly wonderful sound. I’m overwhelmed by the desire to rip off his clothes and evoke pleasures on him he never even dreamt of. Just to hear more of that voice, gasping, moaning, screaming. Because of me.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asks. I just nod, still grinding our hips together, staring right into his eyes so that he could see how much I want to do this.

Finally he seems to believe me. And smiles. A devil’s smile, wicked and sinful, and damn sexy.

The devil takes my hand, leading me to his bedroom, my entire body lamenting the lack of touch and heat, but there’s more to come, much, much more. And suddenly I’m anxious, dozens of ‘what if’s’ whirling through my head, but everything is silenced as soon as we fall on the bed together, everything comes perfect again. Lips, tongues, hands, kissing, lick tou touching, squeezing.

I practically salivate when he pulls off his shirt. Such perfection should be outlawed. Hard muscles under the soft tanned skin. I want to tell him how beautiful he is, but I can’t find words to describe it. He pulls me to sit up, tearing away my shirt as well, and I latch onto his neck, not getting enough of the sweet taste of his skin.

My pants are painfully tight as it is, but his hand sneaks between my legs, stroking and squeezing, tormenting me until I moan against his shoulder.

“I like that sound,” he breathes into my ear. I bend my neck to lick his pierced nipple, and am awarded by a small ‘ahh’ from his kiss-bruised lips. The bulge inside his jeans is inviting. But before I can do something about it, I’m pushed to lie on my back and his wonderful, hot mouth travels down my naked chest. Soft, butterfly kisses along my stomach. My body arches up, needing more, how can he be so composed while I’m almost insane with desire?

Quick fingers undo my jeans while his tongue circles my navel. After some tugging and pulling I’m naked. Completely vulnerable and in his mercy, and that’s exactly how I like it. At this point he could do anything, and I’d just beg for more. And he knows it, somehow, and somehow I know he knows, somewhere along the way our minds melted into one while our bodies tried, but couldn’t.

Never taking his eyes off me, he pulls off his pants as well, crawcrawls back on top of me, covering my body with his. We fit together like it was meant to be. The sensation of our erections rubbing together nearly makes my brain crash. I never imagined it would be this good, not even in my wildest dreams. It’s one of the rare moments in life where reality beats everything else.

My moans vanish into the hot depths of his mouth. His skin is damp with sweat under my touch. He smells like sin, sweet and intoxicating, and I’d gladly burn in hell for this. Just give me more of that.

I whimper almost pathetically as his tongue slides over my nipple and he grins. Bastard. I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my entire life and he just…grins. But he keeps moving down, and I spread my legs willingly, shivering with anticipation. And then it’s there, his hot mouth on my cock, licking, sucking, engulfing me. He’s either naturally talented or has had a lot of practice, but I honestly couldn’t care less right now. It feels so good I could just die.

And then, with a final long lick along the core of my entire essence he stops. I cry out at the loss of that wet heat, but he places a gentle finger on my lips to silence me.

“Shh… we’re not done yet, baby.”

My fingers dig into his shoulders, slipping on the sweaty skin. I’m fascinated by the way his hair sticks to his neck as he leans over and searches for something inside his nightstand. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise what exactly he’s looking for.

“Ah, here you are,” he mutters triumphantly, having located the bottle of lube. Then he turns back to me, a concerned look on his face. I know what he’s thinking. Before he can say anything, I have looped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, to whisper into his ear, “I want you, Jun… I want to you to take me. Please. “

He kisses me, deeply, with surprising gentleness as if to apologise for the pain that’s to come. But no amount of pain could make me back out now.

Breath hitches in my throat as a slick finger slides into me. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but the feeling comes back to me, and I hook my legs around his waist to give him better access. He adds a second finger, moving inside me, trying to prepare me as much as possible, and then he hits that place deep within me that makes me scream out loud and causes stars to dance behind my eyelids. It’s almost too much to bear.

“Just fuck me already,” I groan.

He laughs his silent, almost voiceless laughter and grants me the utter delight of seeing him covering his erection with lube. The sight of his hand sliding over his own cock nearly makes me come. Blood is thumping inside my ears.

My legs are being lifted higher, ankles over his shoulders and he pushes his way in, slowly, carefully. It hurts, but it’s the best thing ever. Once being filled with his throbbing hardness I want to weep from that awfully intense mixture of pleasure and pain.

I keep my eyes open as he starts thrusting, slow, languid strokes building up into a steady rhythm. His lips are parted, breath coming in gasps and moans, eyebrows knitted together, forehead beading with sweat. Beautiful.

Everything fades away except the blinding waves of pleasure. I can hear my own voice as if underwater, moans I can’t control. He speeds up, getting closer to the grand finale, and his fingers wrap around my cock, stroking and pumping it, going faster and deeper and I want to beg for more, but I’ve forgotten how to speak.

And then the world explodes.

I’m vaguely aware of his final thrust, his loud, strangled moan, and the warm sticky wetness marking me inside and out. His body is trembling. Mine probably as well. And I feel incredibly empty when he pulls out and collapses on top of me, breathing heavily against my cheek. In a lazy manner he licks the sweat from my temple.

“Jun?”

“Hmmmm?” He sounds like he’s about to fall asleep.

“You’re heavy.” Unromantic as hell, but he’s about to crush me with his weight.

“Oh.” He rolls off me, wrapping his long arms around my waist. Falling asleep sounds like a very good idea now, in his tight, secure embrace. Knowing that he’ll still be right there when I wake up.

Don’t ask me how I know that. I just do. It feels like the rightest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, and all those years when that was only a fantasy seem very, very far away. I don’t miss them. It’s real now.

“Ino?” his voice comes through the layers of sleep starting to form on top of my consciousness.

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

I turn around, wiggling between his arms until I’m facing him. His eyes are like two black holes pulling me in.

“I love you,” he repeats and I smile. He loves me.

“I know,” I whisper back. He looks puzzled. My silly Junjun. “I love you too.”

~~~The end. Oh yes, they lived happily ever after too.~~~~
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Finally