Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12333519.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sexy_Zone, Johnny's_Jr., SixTONES_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Matsumura_Hokuto/Nakajima_Kento
  Character:
      Nakajima_Kento, Jinguji_Yuta, Matsumura_Hokuto
  Additional Tags:
      Canon_Universe, Guro, Knifeplay, Bloodplay, Frottage, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-31 Words: 4435
****** (tastes) just like candy ******
by thunderylee
Summary
     If he doesn’t want Kento marking up Jinguji, he’ll have to give Kento
     something else to feed on.
Notes
     reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (single line: guro,
     bloodplay, bites/bruises, negotiation, danger).
The young ones are so sweet. Jinguji is the one who humors him, especially now
that it’s colder and the more clothes Jinguji has to wear means the more places
Kento can mark him. Kento knows the little brat likes it, as much as he
struggles and says that it hurts, because he keeps coming back for more.
“Are you a zombie?” Jinguji asks, and he’s serious. Kento looks down at big
eyes that are not innocent at all, not after the things Kento has done to him.
Kento just smiles, tracing the bruise on Jinguji’s hip that’s a pretty swirl of
green and purple. “Do I look like a zombie?”
“Well, no.” Jinguji sucks on his bottom lip and Kento twitches. “Zombies are
pale.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
Kento leans down to press his lips to Jinguji’s, cursing the junior’s
popularity and how he has to be on TV all the fucking time. If only there was a
month of off-time, long enough for marks to heal, Kento could really enjoy him,
give into his desires to gnaw on that bottom lip and sink his teeth into
Jinguji’s neck.
For now all he can do is imagine it, curling up along Jinguji’s side and
rocking against his hip. Grinding right against the bruise, which is why Kento
had put it there to begin with. It’s the aftermath Jinguji likes the most,
Kento’s learned. Touching the bruises after they’ve been made, whether fresh or
in various stages of healing, like a bunch of little buttons that Kento can
press to turn Jinguji on.
That’s as far as Kento goes, however, because Jinguji is barely sixteen and
Kento’s not stealing his firsts. That’s not why he’s here, anyway. If he just
wanted that, he could go to anyone. What he wants is to feast, and Jinguji lets
him. Kento’s clothes stay on the entire time, mostly because the friction feels
better when he rubs himself off against Jinguji’s bruises.
Kento’s hand drops to Jinguji’s waist, knuckles dragging along the flesh that
wasn’t there before, and Kento grins into Jinguji’s throat. “You’ve been
eating.”
Jinguji makes a noncommittal noise that gets cut off when Kento pinches the
skin just above the hip, hard enough to make Jinguji jerk beneath him. It sends
a wave of fire burning through Kento’s veins, making him push even harder, and
he smiles when Jinguji cries out in pain. Normally he would be satisfied with
this, but he’s too far gone, Jinguji’s fingers digging into his arm enough to
return the favor.
Jinguji’s shirt is open, chest heaving as Kento drags his teeth down the
sternum and past Jinguji’s ribs. He leaves little red lines in his wake that
will fade before tomorrow, which is just disappointing. In another world, he
could go farther, deeper, maybe cut Jinguji open and see what’s inside, but all
he can do is imagine it while things like life and death exist.
He can chew on the flesh, though, taking that bit he’d just marked into his
mouth like it’s a piece of meat. Technically it is, but Kento can’t tear into
it like he wants to. Already Jinguji is twisting and shaking from the force,
his hand shoving down his pants so fast that it couldn’t have been an active
decision, and now his whimpers are mixed with moans as Kento breaks the skin
and tastes the delicious tang of young blood.
Part of the appeal is holding back, the denial Kento continually imposes onto
himself that both frustrates and pleases him. Disturbingly enough, it’s the
only way he still feels human, since a monster wouldn’t be able to resist the
temptation for just a little bit more, as long as he’s still breathing, oh it’s
too late may as well finish him off. Kento could never let it get that far.
He knows his limits, sucking on the skin until Jinguji comes, leaving it nice
and blue as he reluctantly pulls away. Jinguji’s a mess, sprawled out on the
towels Kento had laid out on the floor with marks all over him, bites and
bruises and scratches of varying colors. He could be abstract art if Kento had
the chance, just a few weeks; he’s read how to make bruises heal fast. Instead
he just appreciates his work, watching Jinguji catch his breath and wondering
how pink his lungs are.
(“What do you think people taste like?” Kento asks casually, and Fuuma makes a
face as he scrutinizes his hair in the mirror. “You know, like human meat.”
“I hear it tastes like chicken,” Hokuto volunteers, grinning up at the older
boy. “But more tender.”
“You are both gross,” Kouchi informs them while Fuuma turns green.)
Kento has never had the balls to actually try. If he were more conniving, more
daring, he could probably hunt down an unsuspecting stranger and…do absolutely
nothing, because he’s not a murderer. The prospect of someone screaming and
begging for their life does nothing for him; they have to be into it, asking
him for it, getting off on it. As curious as he is, he can’t bring himself to
do more than nibble on what he can get without severely harming someone.
“We need to talk,” Hokuto says on the other side of Kento’s front door, much
taller than Kento remembers with more of an adult face. “Inside.”
Kento just stands aside, letting Hokuto walk into his apartment with big
strides. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Hokuto was pissed, except
Hokuto’s face looks oddly calm. Kento hasn’t been around him in a couple years,
nothing outside of Shounen Club interactions since Sexy Zone has debuted, but
he still has those soft eyes amidst his grown-up face.
“Long time, no see,” Kento says cheerfully, jogging into the kitchen to grab
them something to drink. “Do you want tea or—?”
He’s cut off by Hokuto grabbing his arm, spinning him around and pinning him to
the refrigerator. Hokuto doesn’t say anything, just stares at him in a way that
would be menacing if Kento hadn’t known him since he was thirteen and mistaken
him for a girl at first.
“I spent the entire way over here thinking about what I’m going to do,” Hokuto
finally says, his voice low and even. It’s scarier than if he were yelling,
Kento thinks, which is probably why he keeps getting the creepy drama roles. “I
never thought…I mean, I remember, you know?”
Kento just nods, waiting for Hokuto to spit it out already. Hokuto’s still got
a firm grip on him, enough that it would be a struggle for Kento to escape, but
Kento doesn’t feel threatened. His heart is beating madly and his legs feel
like jelly, but it’s not from fear—it’s from arousal.
“I caught Jinguji changing earlier at rehearsal,” Hokuto says quietly, looking
from one of Kento’s eyes to the other. “I know he left with you the other
night. I’m not stupid, Kento. You did that to him, didn’t you? You…chewed him
up.”
Swallowing hard, Kento fights to maintain eye contact and just nods. “Are you
mad? Do you think I’m sick?”
Hokuto just slowly shakes his head, and Kento’s heart jumps into his throat
when his kitchen light reflects off of the shiny switchblade knife Hokuto holds
up. “I understand you.”
Kento jerks where he stands, nearly losing his balance as reality crashes down
onto him. “What?”
“I understand,” Hokuto says again, bringing the knife closer to Kento’s jaw.
“The desire to mark someone, make them yours, taste their life.”
“Something like that,” Kento says, trying so hard to remain still that he
shakes from the effort. “Are you gonna cut me?”
“Do you want me to cut you?” Hokuto asks, his eyes darkening. “I haven’t…I
mean, I just think about it. I don’t actually do it. I’m not that brave.”
“I don’t do it, either,” Kento rushes to redeem himself, gulping at Hokuto’s
knowing look. “I mean, I do a little bit. But not…what I really want to do.”
“What is that?” Hokuto asks casually, like he’s discussing work over take-out,
not holding Kento at knifepoint in his own kitchen. He presses closer and
raises his eyebrows as he flattens Kento to the refrigerator. “Damn, you like
this.”
“Um, yes,” Kento says with an incredulous laugh. His hips give an automatic
snap forward, making him choke on his next breath while Hokuto lets out a low
groan. “I don’t…with him, we don’t. I won’t.”
“Oh yeah?” Hokuto asks, tracing Kento’s jaw with the flat part of the blade. He
inhales sharply as Kento tilts his head back and rolls his body without moving
his head. “Nice to see you have some morals.”
Kento snorts at that, then freezes when Hokuto slides the blade up his chin.
“He tastes so good, Hokku.”
“I understand,” Hokuto says once more, and Kento jumps as he feels the briefest
prick under his chin. It doesn’t hurt, no worse than when he cuts himself
shaving, but he doesn’t usually have someone flick their tongue right against
it afterward, pulling a low moan from his lungs. “You taste good, too.”
“I thought—” Kento interrupts himself with a sharp intake of air as Hokuto
drags his lips around the tiny puncture mark. “I thought you didn’t actually do
it.”
“I do it a little bit,” Hokuto admits, his voice buzzing Kento’s throat. “Just
like you do, you fucking cannibal.”
Kento gasps out a laugh, which turns into a moan when Hokuto’s knife-free hand
slips under his shirt and rests on his waist. “I’ve never eaten anyone,” he
breathes out.
“But you want to,” Hokuto whispers, pausing to suck on the small wound again,
and Kento doesn’t refute the accusation. “I think we can work something out.”
“Oh yeah?” Kento lowers his chin now that there’s no imminent threat of
stabbing, the knife sticking out to the side while Hokuto holds onto Kento’s
shoulder. It occurs to him now that he’s free, no longer bound by Hokuto’s
strength, but the last thing he wants to do is move.
“Yeah.” Hokuto pulls back enough to meet Kento’s eyes, and Kento inhales at how
flushed Hokuto’s cheeks are. “Let me take Jinguji’s place. He’s not old enough
to appreciate how you’re handling him.”
“And you’re gonna appreciate it?” Kento asks, a little skeptically. “Do you
even know what you’re offering?”
“In return,” Hokuto goes on, like Kento hadn’t even spoken, “you’ll let me
carve you. Not a lot, and definitely not anywhere visible.”
Kento gives Hokuto a knowing look. “You want me to stay away from Jinguji that
much?”
“I think we can complement each other,” Hokuto says evasively, and Kento
shivers as he feels the cool blade against his collarbone. “What do you say?
I’m eighteen, you know. You can do whatever you want with me.”
Kento licks his lips, noticing Hokuto’s eyes dropping down to watch. “What kind
of carving did you have in mind?”
“Shallow cuts, just enough to sting and stick around for a while,” Hokuto
answers. “Maybe my initials on the inside of your thigh. What do you think
about that?”
It takes all of Kento’s effort not to answer with a moan, though it’s all for
nothing when Hokuto rocks their hips together and smirks. “And what do I get in
return?”
“Name your terms,” Hokuto whispers, leaning forward so that his lips ghost over
Kento’s. Kento wants to kiss him so badly, but he also wants to hear what
Hokuto has to say. “I trust you to make sure I don’t have any lasting damage.”
Kento doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping Hokuto’s forearms until Hokuto
jerks and bites his lip, clearly forcing himself to endure the pain. “You can’t
handle it,” Kento tells him. “You won’t like it.”
His next breath is stolen when Hokuto presses their mouths together, lips
moving firmly against his with harsh puffs of air on his cheek. Hokuto grinds
against him again and Kento can feel an erection digging into his hip, a soft
moan making him gasp.
“You are completely misreading my reaction,” Hokuto mumbles against his lips,
fingers twitching as they slip under Kento’s shirt and lightly trace the line
of his waist. “Right now I’m trying not to throw you down onto the counter and
fuck your brains out.”
Kento is so unaccustomed to physical contact that this small amount has him
shuddering, rubbing against Hokuto much more desperately than he’d like.
Hokuto’s words go right into his pants as well, making his grip turn sharp as
his nails sink into the muscles of Hokuto’s forearms.
“Are you sure?” Kento hisses, inhaling sharply when Hokuto answers with a moan.
“Once I get started I might not be able to stop.”
“Do you need a written fucking invitation?” Hokuto snaps, then pulls back with
a devious grin. “Maybe you do.”
Kento’s a little confused when Hokuto’s arms are taken away from him, but he’s
lifted onto his own kitchen counter and swift hands drop to unbuckle his belt.
Hokuto kneels down and disappears completely, but he doesn’t go far; Kento
jumps when he feels hands on his bare thighs, spreading them apart.
“I’m gonna engrave it right here,” Hokuto says, his breath hot on Kento’s
sensitive skin as soft fingers trace a spot very high and inside. “So you feel
it every time you dance.”
“O-okay,” Kento consents, though he’s not in his right mind to make rational
decisions right now as Hokuto reaches for the knife. He braces himself for the
initial slice, but he doesn’t notice anything until Hokuto’s breath chills the
tiny trickle of blood. “Oh my god.”
“You okay?” Hokuto asks, more gently than Kento would ever be able to manage,
and Kento just nods. “If it hurts too much, tell me.”
“I’m fine,” Kento gets out, but he chokes on his next breath when Hokuto’s
tongue flicks along the line he’d made as he cuts another. It feels much
different on his inner thigh than under his chin, much closer to where he’s
tenting his boxers. Each lick to the cut feels like a lick to his cock, making
Kento tremble and moan as he grips onto the edge of the counter with both
hands. “Fuck.”
Hokuto hums in response, the vibrations even more stimulating, leaving Kento to
wonder if he’ll even make it to the main event. Ever since Hokuto had mentioned
(threatened) sex, that’s all Kento can think about, clinging to Hokuto’s body
as the younger man pounds him into the counter. Kento’s older, but Hokuto’s
bigger and Kento doesn’t care how they do it as long as Hokuto lives up to his
end of the bargain. If he doesn’t want Kento marking up Jinguji, he’ll have to
give Kento something else to feed on.
Kento’s next noise is loud and clear, with no chance of ever being subdued as
Hokuto’s teeth pierce his skin. Hokuto has long, sharp canines and Kento feels
every bit of them, biting him so deeply that he starts to think he’s on the
other end of his own attack. But before it can sting and throb like that one
time he’d experimented on his own arm, Hokuto
blows on the area he’d decorated and stands up straight, his lips stained red
and his eyes glossy as the knife clatters onto the counter behind them.
“Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about,” he says, wiping his mouth with
the back of his hand. “Doesn’t really do anything for me, but I do like the
taste of your blood. If that wasn’t obvious.”
“Are you a vampire?” Kento asks, half teasing as he twists his fingers in
Hokuto’s shirt.
“If I’m a vampire, then you really are a cannibal,” Hokuto says, lifting one
corner of his mouth in a smirk. “What a team we make. We should fight crime.”
“We should fuck,” Kento corrects him, yanking him forward by the shirt and
crashing their mouths together. Hokuto doesn’t miss a beat, swirling his tongue
around Kento’s as they pull at each other’s clothes, sharing the taste of
Kento’s life. Kento notices Hokuto pull something from his back pocket before
dropping his pants to the floor and almost rolls his eyes, except that Hokuto’s
hand wraps around his cock and Kento’s priorities shift to keeping it there.
“You like it this much?” Hokuto asks between kisses, thumbing the head to smear
around the precome. “Or is this for the promise of eating me?”
Kento starts to say that he’s not going to eat anyone, damn, stop putting it
like that, but then Hokuto’s touch disappears and a whine comes out instead.
That bastard smiles into their kiss, but it’s not long before his hand returns,
fingers slick with lube and tracing the inner muscles of Kento’s unmarked
thigh. “Hokuto.”
“Yes, senpai?” Hokuto replies, and that sends a shiver down Kento’s spine
because Hokuto never calls him senpai, even though he technically is. Kento
squirms as Hokuto’s fingertips brush his rim for just a second, then Hokuto
speaks again. “Did you want something?”
Two can play at this game, Kento thinks through the haze of his arousal as he
leans forward and mouths Hokuto’s upper chest, looking for a good place for his
first feast. “Yeah, I do.”
“Not too far up,” Hokuto warns, catching on immediately. “They make me wear
ridiculously low-cut shirts.”
“Noted,” Kento replies, bending down enough to get a nice fleshy spot on the
side of Hokuto’s right pectoral. He scrapes the skin with his teeth, lightly so
Hokuto can get used to it, and Hokuto just gasps into his hair and grabs onto
Kento’s thigh with his dry hand, running his thumb over the slice he’d made. It
gives Kento a sharp pinch of pain, but it’s tolerable and gives him more
incentive to bite harder, sucking a good-sized chunk into his mouth as Hokuto
finally pushes a finger inside him and starts to stretch him open.
“Shit,” Hokuto hisses, tightening his grip on Kento’s thigh and making Kento
whimper a little from the dull pressure. “It hurts, but it’s okay.”
Kento lets go enough to run his tongue over the bite marks and speak. “Are you
sure?”
“Yes.” Hokuto pushes in another finger and curls them until Kento moans. “Do I
taste good?”
“I don’t know yet,” Kento admits, tonguing a small groove where he’d almost
broken the skin. “Should I find out?”
“Yes.”
Kento takes a deep breath, then bites as hard as he can, pulling a yelp from
Hokuto that sounds prettier than any note he’s sung. There’s a tang of blood
and Kento moans, sucking and chewing as much as he comfortably can. Just like
Jinguji, he can only enjoy so much without going too far, regardless of how
much he desires it.
He’s so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice Hokuto’s third finger sneaking in
until he starts moving them all in and out, bent enough to stroke along that
spot and make Kento gnaw harder. His body is throbbing for more, but he can’t
bring himself to pull his mouth away just yet, drowning in Hokuto’s sweet
taste. Apparently eighteen is still young enough to be enticing.
“I wanna fuck you,” Hokuto breathes, his voice sinfully low, and Kento notices
him shaking where he stands, clinging onto Kento with his free hand. “Kento,
please.”
It takes a lot of willpower, but Kento relaxes his jaw and kisses Hokuto’s
flesh as it’s released from his teeth, a gorgeous shade of burgundy. He admires
it for a few seconds before lifting his head, watching Hokuto’s eyes darken
even more as he regards Kento’s face. Kento’s taken off guard when Hokuto
kisses him firmly, guiding Kento’s legs on either side of his waist and
standing between them.
He expects it, but Kento still cries out when Hokuto enters him, hard and thick
and nonstop. Hands rub soothingly along the backs of his thighs, Hokuto’s mouth
all over his neck and throat as he groans deeply enough to vibrate Kento’s
entire body. “You feel so good,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Kento replies, smiling at the concern, lifting a shaky hand to threat
into Hokuto’s hair. “Go easy, it’s been a while.”
Hokuto scoffs. “Yeah, I can tell.”
His first few thrusts are careful, pulling out and inching back so slowly that
Kento’s nails take to Hokuto’s back, clawing with need. Hokuto hisses at the
pain, but snaps his hips harder to inevitably give them both what they want. He
moves faster as it gets easier, Kento’s body molding to Hokuto’s cock and
writhing with each slam deep inside him.
“I wonder what it would be like if you did it for real,” Hokuto says, his
breaths rushed as he leans up to speak into Kento’s ear. “Would you just tear
into me and devour everything you could? Rip out my flesh and swallow it? Would
you cook me or eat me raw?”
“Raw,” Kento answers immediately, his arousal soaring from the mental picture
painted by Hokuto’s words. “Just a little bit, nothing horrific. Just enough to
have more of you inside me.”
The groan that unearths from Hokuto’s lungs is interesting, like he really
likes that idea a lot, and the next time Kento goes to open his mouth, his
voice doesn’t work properly from the force of Hokuto’s thrusts. Kento’s spine
arches naturally, leading him to fall back on some small appliances, but when
he braces his hand behind him to push himself back up, something is in his
face.
“Fucking do it,” Hokuto growls. Kento’s eyes pop open to see that it’s Hokuto’s
forearm, lightly bruised by Kento’s grabbing earlier. “If it’s just a little
bit, it’s okay. It’s long-sleeve season.”
“I can’t,” Kento replies, dragging his lips along the disclosed patches of
skin. “My teeth aren’t sharp enough to tear through flesh. I’ve tried it on
myself before.”
“You could use my knife,” Hokuto offers, followed by a sharp moan when Kento’s
body tightens at that suggestion.
“No,” Kento says. “I don’t trust myself. Let it go.”
Before Hokuto can push anymore, Kento opens his mouth and bites down on the
muscle right in front of him, close to the wrist, pulling a beautiful scream
from Hokuto’s lungs. It melts into a breathy moan when Kento releases the skin,
tonguing the indentations he’d left before sucking it into his mouth just like
he’d done to the other spot on Hokuto’s chest.
“What are you gonna do if I let you go down on me?” Hokuto goes on, and god his
voice is driving Kento almost as crazy as what it’s saying. “Would you try to
bite my dick off? Just chew on it a lot? Swallow some blood along with my
come?”
“Hokuto,” Kento gasps, his plea entirely muffled by Hokuto’s arm. He’s inwardly
cringing at the graphic mental images but outwardly his body is on fire, more
than approving while what little brain power he has left wants to tell Hokuto
to stop talking. It’s such a drastic contrast that Kento can’t do anything but
give in, his hormones clearly winning any battle right now.
Hokuto’s next noise is like a roar, likely induced by pain now that Kento’s
been biting the same place for a while. Since he’s holding onto Hokuto’s elbow,
his other hand is free to wrap around his cock, making him moan in a way that
would be shameful if it wasn’t completely tame in comparison to everything
else. Hokuto grunts and thrusts harder, pounding him into the smooth marble
finish of his countertop while Kento’s bites get rougher, less careful as he
gets close.
It’s not until he notices something solid in his mouth that he realizes what
he’s done, but he’s already taken over by orgasm, coming so hard that it almost
knocks him out. Panicking makes it even better, though he manages to shove
Hokuto’s arm away from his face before he bites off anymore of Hokuto’s flesh.
Kento’s still gasping for air when he can function again, his senses heightened
by what has just happened. The first thing he notices is that his mouth is
empty, eyes widening in horror at actually swallowing it. It was just a little
bit, barely a morsel, but it was enough to send Kento’s body into another realm
of arousal, that tangy taste remaining on his tongue as he feels even closer to
Hokuto than before.
Hokuto hasn’t finished yet, Kento can tell from how hard he still is inside
him, but he’s stopped moving. Slowly Kento opens his eyes to find Hokuto
looking down at his arm in alarm, then gapes as he sees the small hole for
himself.
“I am so sorry,” Kento breathes out. “I didn’t mean—”
“Can I keep going?” Hokuto cuts him off to ask, now directing those desperate
eyes to Kento. “This feels so…I just want to…Kento.”
“Yes, yes,” Kento says, and Hokuto moans out loud as he starts moving again.
“Are you okay?”
“Right now all I want is to come,” Hokuto replies, harsh breaths forcing
themselves out between his words as he grabs Kento by the backs of both thighs
and fucks him into the counter. “I’m so close…fuck.”
Hokuto slams into him a few more times before abruptly falling still, his cock
pulsing and painting Kento’s insides. He’s shuddering from where he leans over
Kento, bangs damp from sweat and in his face, and Kento reaches up to push them
out of his eyes, his own gaze lingering on the gaping wound on the side of
Hokuto’s wrist.
“We should probably treat that,” Kento whispers, and Hokuto nods as he starts
to push himself up with his other hand. His cock falls from Kento’s body and
Kento feels the release go along with it, hissing when it reaches the cut on
his thigh and stings like a bitch. “And me.”
“Yeah,” Hokuto says, but he doesn’t make any effort to move more than he
already has. “So what do I taste like?”
Kento considers the unique flavor still in his mouth and finds the next
possible thing. “Candy.”
(“There are so many new juniors,” Fuuma comments after a Shounen Club taping.
“What are they feeding these kids? They all look like perfect little idols.”
Hokuto’s lingering around the dressing room, ears perking up at the topic of
conversation. He subconsciously rubs the wide bracelet on his wrist as he meets
Kento’s eyes.
Kento smiles. “They’re so cute I could eat them up.”)
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