Massu/Koyama 1/1
Nov. 16th, 2010 12:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoozing_kittenTitle: I can make a mess like nobody’s business
Pairing: Massu/Koyama
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In a non-AU land where Massu and Koyama co-habit out of convenience, they sort of jerk off together. Oh and Massu is real magic.
“This is why we can’t have nice things.” Massu shook his head sadly and Koyama made a soft noise around the fingers in his mouth, half protest and half agreement. His own fingers and not Massu’s, of course because they weren’t like that despite what people thought of their co-habitation and manly shopping trips. His eyes were narrowed against Massu’s deceptively soft smile and the tears already forming there in the corners and sticking to his lashes. “Hand.” He held his own hands out.
It had been a rather sadly routine cooking accident. Koyama was an excellent cook, but he was far too careless with the knife, mind too far away from the ends of his fingers. He’d managed not to bleed all over the onions he was dicing. Maybe his eyes had been too blurry from cutting onions, either way Massu knew from the surprised yelp that Koyama had cut into himself instead of the onion. Again. Too bad he wasn’t into cannibalism; Koyama could prove to be a rare and yet unknown delicate treat.
“You should learn to be more careful.” Massu admonished, taking hold of Koyama’s spit-slicked hand, dripping dark red blood on their pristine kitchen floor and Massu would need to clean it later before the colour dyed the grout and became unsightly. He closed his eyes, less for effect and more so he wouldn’t be staring at Koyama’s face all close up like that, eyes red and watery and mouth screwed into a pout that shouldn’t look nearly as good as it did on someone his age. Someone who was supposed to be mature and an example for girls across the nation, Koyama was kind of a wimp when it came down to it.
“It slipped.” Koyama said and for a moment Massu had no idea why, his voice and the words didn’t make sense, he wasn’t so much preoccupied with Koyama’s physical presence in front of him as he was focused on the well of static energy that bounced around inside of him. It was always looking for a way out, looking for the exit and finding it as he opened the floodgates on the pen. It fizzled through him like shaken soda and the point where his hands held Koyama’s delicately between his own was positively electric.
He focused on using that wild power to knit together skin and muscle and the wee tiny blood vessels in the skin there. Koyama hissed out something unintelligible it might have been real words lost through the haze of his power or it might have actually been verbal garble, it was impossible to tell. The contact was as always too intimate and a touch too much and once he could tell that the cut was healed and the bleeding stopped it tipped from friendly to creepy. There was always that split second where it felt like flying to let go, to just revel in the feedback between them. No matter what he did he couldn’t stop it, not when he wasn’t sure he really wanted to.
He let go, and at first it felt like his fingers wouldn’t uncurl from Koyama’s. Koyama had such slim hands with long bony fingers and narrow wrists, too big to be girl’s hands but too delicate to be anyone else’s hands. Koyama didn’t do anything that would result in calluses on the delicate whirl pattern on the pads of his fingers and when he got so much as a paper-cut Massu would heal it for him because Koyama’s skin scarred easily. In fact he had had a scar on his hip where he caught himself on a fence as a kid and it had tore open and required stitches and itched like mad while it healed. Massu smoothed it away for him once, right after they moved in together in a bid to convince Koyama that he wasn’t going crazy but magic was real.
Koyama took in a deep shuddering breath when Massu finally pulled away. His flush under his tan gave him a beautiful pink tone; Massu averted his gaze from it. Koyama’s pulse had been thundering through his veins when Massu had held his hand. He couldn’t stop that, maybe with more practice he could stop the bleed-over, but for the most part it was such an intimate moment. They weren’t that, not like that, but each time it made his pulse roar and scream through him like something wild and out of control. It affected Koyama the same way, leaving him panting and obviously too hard in his sweat pants.
“Call me when dinner is ready.” Massu said, and his voice sounded wrecked, like it had been dragged out of him over rough gravel.
“O-okay.” Koyama stumbled back against the counter, his hip hitting the countertop with a jarring thwack and a wince of pain. “Give me a bit.” Koyama laughed, a soft strained sound. “I’ll need to cut more onions.”
“Be careful.” Massu almost growled and Koyama shivered, spinning on his slipper-clad feet to face his cutting board and smearing a still wet blood drop with his toe. Massu would clean it later.
The door closed behind him with a click and Massu almost sagged against it. Fuck. He wasn’t gay, he really truly wasn’t, but wasn’t Koyama the sweetest torture ever? When they had agreed to be flat-mates for the handy fact of them being able to go into work together Massu had been fine jerking off to pretty girls in skimpy outfits and imagining their pretty glossed lips around his cock. Now when he jerked off, in the last moment right before he got off he couldn’t help but think about Koyama lying in the next room, long and lean and probably sleeping in those god-awful thin boxers of his.
Now he couldn’t help it. He was physically unable to think of anything but the way Koyama flushed, and he imagined he could smell the thick sent of arousal. He closed his eyes and imagined Koyama biting his lip between his teeth as he tried to resist touching himself as he chopped onions for the curry. Wondered if he could hold on long enough to get the roux going before he gave in and jerked off.
In his mind’s eye he could imagine it, Koyama in the kitchen, hands shaking too badly to continue without cutting his fingers again. Imagined the way he would shiver with the strength of it because this wasn’t the usual fire of arousal, it was unnatural and magical and all-encompassing. He couldn’t control his hand any more then he could control his thoughts. Fingers slipping down under his shirt to rub against the lower curve of his navel and his hips jerked helplessly in response.
The thrill was always something he thought he was ready for, he knew it was coming but always forgot just how intense it was, all that energy still bottled inside him and fizzling just under the surface of his skin. Scraped his nails down his abdomen and it just felt so good he had to moan low in his chest, felt it rumble through him and against the solid wood of the door.
He got his hand on his cock and it’s not like the countless other times he’s jerked off in the shower, the too-dry slide of his fingertips against the fold just under the crown has him shivering hot and cold and his legs leaning more of his weight against the door, too hard against the sharp points of his shoulder blades but he couldn’t care less. By this point it was just another layer of sensation. There was a thump like something hitting the door and a sudden press forward, just an increment, as much as the door would give against his weight and the handle mechanism.
Massu’s body spiked, dick jerking in his hand helplessly, mind going blank as he feels slight wetness ease against his fingers, like he’d wanted to come and stopped half way. He grit his teeth.
“I am so sorry.” Koyama’s voice muffled against the door, sounding close, like maybe he was pressing his forehead against the door just on the other side, separated by two slats of cheap plywood. God knows, maybe he’s rubbing up against the door like the slutty cat in heat he is with all the people he brings home, but now he was hard for Massu and it’s not even his fault.
Massu shut his eyes tight and through force of will stopped his hands and his hips from moving and all the delicious friction that was causing. “I can’t.” Koyama almost sobbed it, and he’s most certainly not cooking now.
He couldn’t help it, fingers sliding, the edges of his manicured nails catching on the soft slick head and he was shuddering against the door and wondering if Koyama could feel it. A soft aborted moan at his back. He didn’t respond with words, couldn’t because there were no real words for this, instead it was a low moan with that same gravel-rough tone of voice he had used earlier and there was a thump against his back, a muttered curse and what was probably Koyama clawing at the waist of his own pants. Massu figured he might actually explode if he ever got to touch Koyama, the sounds he made alone were almost too much.
Massu shoved his own pants just under the curve of his ass, the door was cool and too-smooth against the heat of it and he groaned softly, letting his weight settle on his shoulders and his feet. It was a balance but it allowed for as much contact with the door (and Koyama by proxy) as he could get and still call it for the sake of his comfort and not some sick sort of desperate connection.
His dick felt too sensitive under the soft trail of his fingers, the drag of his dry fingers against the soft, smooth, wrinkled skin of his balls too much friction. It feels like he’s rubbing his nerves directly and it’s too much to handle at once. Koyama made a whining noise, just loud enough to be clear, like something was actually paining him; and it was almost the same sound he made when Shige offered to rub out some of his tight muscles for him when he’s lying boneless on the couch in the waiting room. Massu was half terrified that he was never going to be able to hear that sound again without going instantly, painfully hard. Which didn’t really matter anymore because he was blindingly and embarrassingly hard right now.
His palm was salty and it tingled against his tongue, the fizz of his magic bright where he licked, a thick stripe up the broadness of his palm. Where it had been painful friction before was now the slick and familiar glide of his own palm. He shuttered the moan behind his own teeth, because that would be too embarrassing and Koyama was making enough noises for the both of them. He made these porn star sounds, little whimpers and a few small sounds like girls do when you fuck them, all soft and desperate, and Massu had to wonder how he got so many girls when he made sounds like that. Couldn’t help the way that the sounds resonated somewhere low in his stomach, pulled out his arousal to new and dizzying levels.
He fucked the glide of his fist hard, hips and palm moving together in a too-rough slide. It almost burned in the intensity of it, every nerve from his toes to his forehead was on fire and it flared up hot in his balls. Koyama made a soft sound, almost lost under a sharp gasp of his own breath, something crossed between a whine and a gasp and Massu turned his head so he could press his ear to the wood of the door.
He fucked his fist faster, the rush of blood in his temples overwhelming, he was more turned on then he normally got actually fucking someone let alone his own hand and it all had to do with the man opposite from him. God, his legs were long and slender, and just right for being wrapped around your waist, in his mind Koyama fucked like a porn star too, at least no one ever seemed to leave disappointed. Grinding his hips and spitting curses for harder faster and more, and god in his mind Massu is more than willing to give him everything, glut himself in the flexible tilt of Koyama’s hips that has him sinking so deep all he needed was one more little push and he’d be swallowed whole.
“Ah, fuck.” Koyama hissed, a thump against the door.
He closes his eyes to the mental image of Koyama riding him, rolling like the tide, head tossed back on the long stem of his neck, gasping and moaning as he fucked himself as fast and hard as he wanted it. If it weren’t for the door Massu highly doubted he’d be able to keep his hands to himself, the curve of Koyama’s lips needed to be abused, fingers, teeth and tongue, hell his dick would do too.
There was an image, Koyama kneeling, Massu’s hands holding his dark fringe off of his face as he fumbled the head of his cock, too much eagerness and not enough grace. Massu’s had enough messy blowjobs to know that it wasn’t always such a bad thing, some people looked better when your come was running down their chin. Koyama would be that type, probably.
Massu rolled his balls between his fingers, holding them down a little and trying to prolong the fantasy for a few more shuddering moments. Wanted to exist forever on that sharp edge, the pull of his own fingers too much and not enough by only just a hair. It was too fast and not his usual technique at all, all rough friction and delicious shivery delight.
He lasted about as long as it took for Koyama to come apart noisily on the other side of the door. He came with a whimper and a low, drawn out moan and Massu tried really really hard not to imagine Koyama’s slack face in his mind. Then he was shaking apart, back bowing forward, curling over as it wound to the point of breaking. His insides were stuck in freeze-fracture, shattering into a million pieces threatening to cut him to ribbons. It took every bit of what was left to keep his power in check. It wouldn’t do to burn the curtains down or cause all his furniture to levitate a few feet off the floor because it always came back down in an untidy crash.
Much like him, really, reeling and shivering as he splashed wet heat all over his own fingers and the delicate curve of his wrist. His breath left him in starts and stops, stuttering out of his chest and the rest of the heat ebbed away slowly.
Reality edged in cold and Massu wanted to put his face in hands and sigh, but he had known this was coming the moment the tips of their fingers touched in the kitchen all wet and slick like some sort of foreshadowing. This was always the fallout, but Koyama caving that one was new. Now that the desperate heat that was crawling under his skin was smoothing out into something more mediocre, slipping back into his normal skin and he was feeling sticky. Faintly disgusted he hitched his pants back up with his free hand and grabbed a Kleenex to mop up the worst of the mess. He landed a 3 pointer with the waste basket and opened the door inward. He was half expecting the long sprawl of Koyama’s limbs as he fell half in his room. He’d obviously been sitting leaning against the door, pants still caught around his thighs and sticky in disgusting places.
The sizzle of lust that spiked through him was probably just the remnants of his magic. Without saying another word he stepped over the loose angles of too-long limbs without stepping on anything important and left Koyama flushed, lying in the entryway to his room.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he called out once he was at the bathroom.
Koyama groaned something garbled in response and Massu closed the door quickly on the sound. When he got out of the shower the door to Koyama’s door was closed but the pot was on the stove boiling the roux and the rice maker was steaming away happily.
Pairing: Massu/Koyama
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In a non-AU land where Massu and Koyama co-habit out of convenience, they sort of jerk off together. Oh and Massu is real magic.
“This is why we can’t have nice things.” Massu shook his head sadly and Koyama made a soft noise around the fingers in his mouth, half protest and half agreement. His own fingers and not Massu’s, of course because they weren’t like that despite what people thought of their co-habitation and manly shopping trips. His eyes were narrowed against Massu’s deceptively soft smile and the tears already forming there in the corners and sticking to his lashes. “Hand.” He held his own hands out.
It had been a rather sadly routine cooking accident. Koyama was an excellent cook, but he was far too careless with the knife, mind too far away from the ends of his fingers. He’d managed not to bleed all over the onions he was dicing. Maybe his eyes had been too blurry from cutting onions, either way Massu knew from the surprised yelp that Koyama had cut into himself instead of the onion. Again. Too bad he wasn’t into cannibalism; Koyama could prove to be a rare and yet unknown delicate treat.
“You should learn to be more careful.” Massu admonished, taking hold of Koyama’s spit-slicked hand, dripping dark red blood on their pristine kitchen floor and Massu would need to clean it later before the colour dyed the grout and became unsightly. He closed his eyes, less for effect and more so he wouldn’t be staring at Koyama’s face all close up like that, eyes red and watery and mouth screwed into a pout that shouldn’t look nearly as good as it did on someone his age. Someone who was supposed to be mature and an example for girls across the nation, Koyama was kind of a wimp when it came down to it.
“It slipped.” Koyama said and for a moment Massu had no idea why, his voice and the words didn’t make sense, he wasn’t so much preoccupied with Koyama’s physical presence in front of him as he was focused on the well of static energy that bounced around inside of him. It was always looking for a way out, looking for the exit and finding it as he opened the floodgates on the pen. It fizzled through him like shaken soda and the point where his hands held Koyama’s delicately between his own was positively electric.
He focused on using that wild power to knit together skin and muscle and the wee tiny blood vessels in the skin there. Koyama hissed out something unintelligible it might have been real words lost through the haze of his power or it might have actually been verbal garble, it was impossible to tell. The contact was as always too intimate and a touch too much and once he could tell that the cut was healed and the bleeding stopped it tipped from friendly to creepy. There was always that split second where it felt like flying to let go, to just revel in the feedback between them. No matter what he did he couldn’t stop it, not when he wasn’t sure he really wanted to.
He let go, and at first it felt like his fingers wouldn’t uncurl from Koyama’s. Koyama had such slim hands with long bony fingers and narrow wrists, too big to be girl’s hands but too delicate to be anyone else’s hands. Koyama didn’t do anything that would result in calluses on the delicate whirl pattern on the pads of his fingers and when he got so much as a paper-cut Massu would heal it for him because Koyama’s skin scarred easily. In fact he had had a scar on his hip where he caught himself on a fence as a kid and it had tore open and required stitches and itched like mad while it healed. Massu smoothed it away for him once, right after they moved in together in a bid to convince Koyama that he wasn’t going crazy but magic was real.
Koyama took in a deep shuddering breath when Massu finally pulled away. His flush under his tan gave him a beautiful pink tone; Massu averted his gaze from it. Koyama’s pulse had been thundering through his veins when Massu had held his hand. He couldn’t stop that, maybe with more practice he could stop the bleed-over, but for the most part it was such an intimate moment. They weren’t that, not like that, but each time it made his pulse roar and scream through him like something wild and out of control. It affected Koyama the same way, leaving him panting and obviously too hard in his sweat pants.
“Call me when dinner is ready.” Massu said, and his voice sounded wrecked, like it had been dragged out of him over rough gravel.
“O-okay.” Koyama stumbled back against the counter, his hip hitting the countertop with a jarring thwack and a wince of pain. “Give me a bit.” Koyama laughed, a soft strained sound. “I’ll need to cut more onions.”
“Be careful.” Massu almost growled and Koyama shivered, spinning on his slipper-clad feet to face his cutting board and smearing a still wet blood drop with his toe. Massu would clean it later.
The door closed behind him with a click and Massu almost sagged against it. Fuck. He wasn’t gay, he really truly wasn’t, but wasn’t Koyama the sweetest torture ever? When they had agreed to be flat-mates for the handy fact of them being able to go into work together Massu had been fine jerking off to pretty girls in skimpy outfits and imagining their pretty glossed lips around his cock. Now when he jerked off, in the last moment right before he got off he couldn’t help but think about Koyama lying in the next room, long and lean and probably sleeping in those god-awful thin boxers of his.
Now he couldn’t help it. He was physically unable to think of anything but the way Koyama flushed, and he imagined he could smell the thick sent of arousal. He closed his eyes and imagined Koyama biting his lip between his teeth as he tried to resist touching himself as he chopped onions for the curry. Wondered if he could hold on long enough to get the roux going before he gave in and jerked off.
In his mind’s eye he could imagine it, Koyama in the kitchen, hands shaking too badly to continue without cutting his fingers again. Imagined the way he would shiver with the strength of it because this wasn’t the usual fire of arousal, it was unnatural and magical and all-encompassing. He couldn’t control his hand any more then he could control his thoughts. Fingers slipping down under his shirt to rub against the lower curve of his navel and his hips jerked helplessly in response.
The thrill was always something he thought he was ready for, he knew it was coming but always forgot just how intense it was, all that energy still bottled inside him and fizzling just under the surface of his skin. Scraped his nails down his abdomen and it just felt so good he had to moan low in his chest, felt it rumble through him and against the solid wood of the door.
He got his hand on his cock and it’s not like the countless other times he’s jerked off in the shower, the too-dry slide of his fingertips against the fold just under the crown has him shivering hot and cold and his legs leaning more of his weight against the door, too hard against the sharp points of his shoulder blades but he couldn’t care less. By this point it was just another layer of sensation. There was a thump like something hitting the door and a sudden press forward, just an increment, as much as the door would give against his weight and the handle mechanism.
Massu’s body spiked, dick jerking in his hand helplessly, mind going blank as he feels slight wetness ease against his fingers, like he’d wanted to come and stopped half way. He grit his teeth.
“I am so sorry.” Koyama’s voice muffled against the door, sounding close, like maybe he was pressing his forehead against the door just on the other side, separated by two slats of cheap plywood. God knows, maybe he’s rubbing up against the door like the slutty cat in heat he is with all the people he brings home, but now he was hard for Massu and it’s not even his fault.
Massu shut his eyes tight and through force of will stopped his hands and his hips from moving and all the delicious friction that was causing. “I can’t.” Koyama almost sobbed it, and he’s most certainly not cooking now.
He couldn’t help it, fingers sliding, the edges of his manicured nails catching on the soft slick head and he was shuddering against the door and wondering if Koyama could feel it. A soft aborted moan at his back. He didn’t respond with words, couldn’t because there were no real words for this, instead it was a low moan with that same gravel-rough tone of voice he had used earlier and there was a thump against his back, a muttered curse and what was probably Koyama clawing at the waist of his own pants. Massu figured he might actually explode if he ever got to touch Koyama, the sounds he made alone were almost too much.
Massu shoved his own pants just under the curve of his ass, the door was cool and too-smooth against the heat of it and he groaned softly, letting his weight settle on his shoulders and his feet. It was a balance but it allowed for as much contact with the door (and Koyama by proxy) as he could get and still call it for the sake of his comfort and not some sick sort of desperate connection.
His dick felt too sensitive under the soft trail of his fingers, the drag of his dry fingers against the soft, smooth, wrinkled skin of his balls too much friction. It feels like he’s rubbing his nerves directly and it’s too much to handle at once. Koyama made a whining noise, just loud enough to be clear, like something was actually paining him; and it was almost the same sound he made when Shige offered to rub out some of his tight muscles for him when he’s lying boneless on the couch in the waiting room. Massu was half terrified that he was never going to be able to hear that sound again without going instantly, painfully hard. Which didn’t really matter anymore because he was blindingly and embarrassingly hard right now.
His palm was salty and it tingled against his tongue, the fizz of his magic bright where he licked, a thick stripe up the broadness of his palm. Where it had been painful friction before was now the slick and familiar glide of his own palm. He shuttered the moan behind his own teeth, because that would be too embarrassing and Koyama was making enough noises for the both of them. He made these porn star sounds, little whimpers and a few small sounds like girls do when you fuck them, all soft and desperate, and Massu had to wonder how he got so many girls when he made sounds like that. Couldn’t help the way that the sounds resonated somewhere low in his stomach, pulled out his arousal to new and dizzying levels.
He fucked the glide of his fist hard, hips and palm moving together in a too-rough slide. It almost burned in the intensity of it, every nerve from his toes to his forehead was on fire and it flared up hot in his balls. Koyama made a soft sound, almost lost under a sharp gasp of his own breath, something crossed between a whine and a gasp and Massu turned his head so he could press his ear to the wood of the door.
He fucked his fist faster, the rush of blood in his temples overwhelming, he was more turned on then he normally got actually fucking someone let alone his own hand and it all had to do with the man opposite from him. God, his legs were long and slender, and just right for being wrapped around your waist, in his mind Koyama fucked like a porn star too, at least no one ever seemed to leave disappointed. Grinding his hips and spitting curses for harder faster and more, and god in his mind Massu is more than willing to give him everything, glut himself in the flexible tilt of Koyama’s hips that has him sinking so deep all he needed was one more little push and he’d be swallowed whole.
“Ah, fuck.” Koyama hissed, a thump against the door.
He closes his eyes to the mental image of Koyama riding him, rolling like the tide, head tossed back on the long stem of his neck, gasping and moaning as he fucked himself as fast and hard as he wanted it. If it weren’t for the door Massu highly doubted he’d be able to keep his hands to himself, the curve of Koyama’s lips needed to be abused, fingers, teeth and tongue, hell his dick would do too.
There was an image, Koyama kneeling, Massu’s hands holding his dark fringe off of his face as he fumbled the head of his cock, too much eagerness and not enough grace. Massu’s had enough messy blowjobs to know that it wasn’t always such a bad thing, some people looked better when your come was running down their chin. Koyama would be that type, probably.
Massu rolled his balls between his fingers, holding them down a little and trying to prolong the fantasy for a few more shuddering moments. Wanted to exist forever on that sharp edge, the pull of his own fingers too much and not enough by only just a hair. It was too fast and not his usual technique at all, all rough friction and delicious shivery delight.
He lasted about as long as it took for Koyama to come apart noisily on the other side of the door. He came with a whimper and a low, drawn out moan and Massu tried really really hard not to imagine Koyama’s slack face in his mind. Then he was shaking apart, back bowing forward, curling over as it wound to the point of breaking. His insides were stuck in freeze-fracture, shattering into a million pieces threatening to cut him to ribbons. It took every bit of what was left to keep his power in check. It wouldn’t do to burn the curtains down or cause all his furniture to levitate a few feet off the floor because it always came back down in an untidy crash.
Much like him, really, reeling and shivering as he splashed wet heat all over his own fingers and the delicate curve of his wrist. His breath left him in starts and stops, stuttering out of his chest and the rest of the heat ebbed away slowly.
Reality edged in cold and Massu wanted to put his face in hands and sigh, but he had known this was coming the moment the tips of their fingers touched in the kitchen all wet and slick like some sort of foreshadowing. This was always the fallout, but Koyama caving that one was new. Now that the desperate heat that was crawling under his skin was smoothing out into something more mediocre, slipping back into his normal skin and he was feeling sticky. Faintly disgusted he hitched his pants back up with his free hand and grabbed a Kleenex to mop up the worst of the mess. He landed a 3 pointer with the waste basket and opened the door inward. He was half expecting the long sprawl of Koyama’s limbs as he fell half in his room. He’d obviously been sitting leaning against the door, pants still caught around his thighs and sticky in disgusting places.
The sizzle of lust that spiked through him was probably just the remnants of his magic. Without saying another word he stepped over the loose angles of too-long limbs without stepping on anything important and left Koyama flushed, lying in the entryway to his room.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he called out once he was at the bathroom.
Koyama groaned something garbled in response and Massu closed the door quickly on the sound. When he got out of the shower the door to Koyama’s door was closed but the pot was on the stove boiling the roux and the rice maker was steaming away happily.
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no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 07:00 am (UTC)I have no idea what brought this on, but I wish it would keep.. >>;; coming?
shoot me nowsome people looked better when your come was running down their chin
I kind of love you for that <3 XD
no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:31 am (UTC)I'm sure Massu will never stop coming, I mean look at him!
Thank you :3
no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 08:18 am (UTC)thank u^^
no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 04:42 pm (UTC)I LOVE THAT MASSU IS MAGIC. ♥ amongst everything else.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:32 am (UTC)Massu is obviously magic, it's just the definition really, I mean everything about him is ~charming~
I'm glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 05:11 pm (UTC)This was awesome. I'm so happy I stumbled upon this thing.
And... Massu IS magic.. And your sadly misguided if you think he's not! =3
no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 07:46 pm (UTC)I'm not sure exactly what just happened. But I loved it. And I'd kind of like it to happen again.
All of the descriptions of Koyama... just... gah. So hot. Amazing job! ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:34 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it! :3
no subject
Date: 2010-11-17 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:36 am (UTC)I think that slowly, they might find themselves not so straight, or at least a little bent when it comes to each other. Or at least not able to pretend like it never happened.
But 'guh' would that ever be hot 8D
no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-18 04:36 am (UTC)