Fussy, Fussy

Shuuichi felt horrible. There had been a bug going around the crew on their last tour, and it seemed like he’d finally caught it. Luckily for him, the tour was over – no singing with a bunged-up nose for Shuuichi! Sniffling, he unlocked the door to his and Ryuichi’s apartment, calling out, “I’b hobe,” and wincing at how hoarse his voice was. Well, with any luck K would give him a week or so before showing up at his door and demanding that he return to work. The flu wouldn’t be a good enough excuse for missing work to Bad Luck’s manager, even if Shuuichi had completely lost his voice by then. “Shuu-chan!” Ryuichi yelled, running out of their kitchen. “You’re—” he stopped. “You’re sick.” “I know,” Shuuichi said. “Sorry.” “Bed! You have to go to bed!” “I dobe think I’b ub for much, Ryu-chan,” Shuuichi protested, but Ryuichi was already shoving him in the direction of their bedroom. “Not for sex, dummy! You have to rest so you’ll get better.” “Oh,” Shuuichi said stupidly, feeling like his head was packed full of cotton wool. Ryuichi undressed him as though he was a doll, then pulled back the covers on the bed and shooed him into it. “Stay there! I’m going to call a doctor,” Ryuichi said, then ran out of the room. A few seconds later, he ran back in and tucked Kumagorou in next to Shuuichi. “Kumagorou always makes me feel better when I’m ill,” he said, then ran off again. The doctor arrived two hours later and told Shuuichi that he had the flu. Shuuichi was hardly surprised at this, and began nodding off while the doctor was telling him that he needed lots of fluids and bed rest. It wasn’t like he’d never been sick before, after all. He knew the lecture. Of course, he hadn’t been sick while living with Ryuichi before. During the next couple of days, Shuuichi lay in bed and watched Ryuichi fuss. His head was too muzzy for him to feel anything but mildly amused at the older man’s antics, which was probably a good thing – particularly when Ryuichi decided that all sick people needed chicken soup, which meant that he had to make some, and therefore make a horrendous mess of the kitchen in the process. Ryuichi insisted on spoon-feeding him the soup, which was entertaining for all of five seconds. As Shuuichi began to get better – which was gratifyingly quickly, although he refused to entertain the possibility that Ryuichi’s fussing had sped up the recovery – one particular aspect of Ryuichi’s behaviour began to annoy him more and more. It was very simple: they hadn’t had sex. Okay, so maybe a red nose and constant coughing weren’t all that attractive – but Shuuichi was convinced that the sole reason Ryuichi was withholding sex was that he thought it might make his lover’s illness worse. And after Shuuichi got over most of the flu’s lethargy, it was horribly frustrating, so he used every trick he knew to try to get Ryuichi’s attention. He dug out his skimpiest underwear and paraded around the apartment in them, declaring that it was too hot for any other clothes. He ‘accidentally’ walked in on Ryuichi in the shower. He made sure Ryuichi saw him in the most compromising positions possible without involving another human in it. He even outright propositioned the older man, despite his inner schoolboy cringing with embarrassment. Nothing worked. Eventually, Shuuichi gave up. He flopped onto his back on their bed – currently just his bed – and scowled at the ceiling. Not even Yuki – rest his soul – had ignored his advances so consistently, even when Yuki had had a deadline to meet. He supposed it was more difficult to be sexy at a man who insisted on carrying a pink bunny everywhere with him, than at . . . well . . . Yuki. Sighing, Shuuichi concluded that there was nothing for it but to take care of his sexual frustration himself. Look what I’ve come to, he thought derisively. Wanking in the bedroom when Ryuichi’s in the next room. It’s all his fault. Stupid Ryuichi. Squirming, he shimmied out of the skimpy underwear, sighing in relief as the thong ceased to dig into his arse. Dropping the underwear onto the floor beside the bed, he took hold of his half-hard dick and began stroking it into a full erection. It didn’t take long before his hips were pushing into his fist, the other hand gently massaging his balls. Shuuichi couldn’t help imagining that it was Ryuichi’s hand on him instead of his own, Ryuichi lying next to him in the bed and touching him. They’d been together for so long that Shuuichi knew just how his lover would touch him, further deepening the illusion. The bed creaked slightly at his movements, but Shuuichi ignored it. It seemed as though the other occupant of the flat couldn’t, however, as the door opened. Shuuichi froze. Ryuichi stared at him, his gaze sweeping over the length of Shuuichi’s body in a way that was almost tangible. It made his cock twitch and skin prickle with a fresh wave of heat. Ryuichi was the first one to move, a sudden grin stretching over his face as he shut the door and pulled his shirt over his head. Shuuichi laughed out loud and sat up, sliding his fingers through Ryuichi’s belt loops and pulling the older man on top of him. “Took you long enough, you—” Shuuichi said, before Ryuichi shut him up with a kiss. Groaning, the pink-haired singer fell back on the bed, pulling Ryuichi on top of him. The rough material of Ryuichi’s jeans scraped along his skin, but it was worth it for the feeling of his lover’s warm, hard body against him again. Ryuichi seemed almost as desperate as Shuuichi, his hands trying to touch everywhere at once while trying to shove his trousers off. Eventually, Shuuichi rolled them over and undid the jeans himself, stripping Ryuichi despite his wriggles with the ease of long practise, before sitting on his thighs. “Shuu-chan,” Ryuichi breathed, running his hands up Shuuichi’s thighs and to his cock. Shuichi tossed his head back and moaned, feeling like it had been years since Ryuichi had touched him instead of a couple of weeks. Determined not to be the only one getting some, Shuuichi pounced his lover. They rolled around on the bed for a while, kissing and touching and semi-wrestling, until they ended up with Shuuichi’s legs over Ryuichi’s shoulders, both groaning as Ryuichi sank into him. This was what he had missed, Shuuichi decided, clutching Ryuichi’s biceps and gasping as the older man began to move. Just like when he was on stage, Ryuichi was intensely focussed during sex, watching Shuuichi’s reactions like there was nothing more important in the whole world. Shuuichi couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky that he had the Sakuma Ryuichi as his lover – and not because it was his teenage idol. Despite the years finally beginning to show on his face, Ryuichi was still as energetic as he had been when younger, and when with Shuuichi he devoted all of that energy to him. It meant that – as Shuuichi had discovered – he fussed relentlessly when Shuuichi was ill, but if it resulted in sex this good, Shuuichi decided, it was a price well paid. After an extended period without the regular sex they were both used to, neither lasted long. Ryuichi collapsed on Shuuichi’s chest while the latter was still gasping and trying to work out which way was up, so Shuuichi wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders to keep him there. “Don’t deny me sex again, you bastard,” Shuuichi muttered, nuzzling Ryuichi’s hair. Ryuichi rolled to the side, dragging Shuuichi half on top of him as he didn’t want to let go of the older man quite so soon. Ryuichi opened his mouth to respond – and sneezed. Shuuichi stared at him in horror. “Oh, fuck.”

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