Gift Fic for mousapelli
Gift Fic for mousapelli
by pot_and_kettle
Title: A-ha
Pairing/Groups: Kis-My-Ft2/A.B.C.-Z - Fujigaya Taisuke/Kawai Fumito, Totsuka Shota/Kitayama Hiromitsu/Kawai Fumito, mentionings of Tottsu/Kitayama, OT7 for Kisumai and OT4/5 for ABC-Z, and assorted intragroup and intergroup pairings
Rating: NC17
Warnings: porn, little plot, Ebikisu being Ebikisu
Notes: For mousapelli. Your combination of Ebikisu was a fun challenge, I seriously hope you enjoy this. To E and L, thank you so much for betaing. ♥
---
It’s just a game that doubles as interview practice to pass the time.
“Something irritating about Kitayama.”
“His alarm clock.”
Tamamori twirls a chunk of hair between his fingers, eyeing the ends of the strands. “Something nobody knows about me.”
“You take all the fun out of it,” Fujigaya replies. “I heard you talking to your lube once.”
“You did not!” Tamamori protests, his ears turning red.
“’Lubricant-san,’” Fujigaya pouts, “’Why do you have to run out so quickly? Condom-san isn’t wet enough by himself.’”
Burying his face in his arms to the sound of loud laughter, Tamamori mumbles death threats into his costume sleeves.
“That’s not appropriate for magazines, it shouldn’t count,” he sulks.
Kitayama opens his eyes. “My turn after this one. Something sexy about Kawai.”
“That’s not Kis-My-Ft2.”
“What if it’s a crosstalk? And he’s in our dressing room enough to count as a substitute for Miyata,” Nikaido says.
“Oi.”
“. . .” He can’t think of anything. Even pretending that he’s a girl, Fujigaya can’t find anything sexy about Kawai. Kawai’s personality is nice, his impressions are funny-he supposes that these things might make Kawai attractive, but sexy? No.
“He’s speechless,” Nikaido observes. “Nice job.”
Kitayama preens.
“Shut up, I’m trying to think,” Fujigaya snaps. He’s stubborn, and determined to find an answer-he always has one. It’s part of who he is, part of his identity in Kis-My-Ft2.
Years of acrobatics have made Kawai muscular, maybe that’s sexy, but when he thinks of Kawai shirtless, those impressive arms somehow look better on Tsukada or Goseki. The tendency to rip his shirt open and roll his hips is so over exaggeratedly done that Kawai ends up looking ridiculous more often than not. The hair-maybe the hair was sexy? Fluffy brown waves made him think more of a long-haired dachsund, but an answer was an answer, and Fujigaya was grasping at straws.
“His hair,” he finally says, hoping he sounds confident enough.
“Mm,” Senga agrees. “Get your fingers in there and really mess it up-“
“Hey.” Turning around, Nikaido glares.
“-you can always tell if they’ve been doing it in their dressing room because his hair is like this,” Senga shoves his fingers through his own hair and makes it stick out. “Tsuka-chan told me.”
The rest of them pause to digest the mental image of Tsukada and Senga talking about their sex lives.
“It sounds unbelievable and yet . . . “ Kitayama murmurs.
“Kis-My-Ft2, two minutes,” The stage manager walks by.
Fujigaya is still stuck on Kawai’s hair. It’s too wispy to be attractive when it’s disheveled-he doesn’t understand what the rest of them see. It bothers him that it’s bothering him. It bothers him more that he still can’t find a ready answer when he always has them. Any other Ebikisu member, and he could find something, he’s sure. Challenges are annoying, but he’s determined to overcome this one.
Something sexy about Kawai . . .
~*~
He feels like a stalker, observing Kawai from the corner of his eye. He’s a bit of a scene-stealer, Kawai is, whether he intends to be or not. Some of it comes from moving-rocking back on his heels, fiddling with his costume, fiddling with someone else’s costume, passing his microphone from hand to hand. Fujigaya doesn’t think Kawai entirely realizes it-his stillness only comes in brief spurts, like a dog alerted into fixing its attention on one point, freezing before bursting into motion again.
“You know,” Goseki finally says with a strange little smile twisting the corners of his lips, “you don’t need permission, just corner him somewhere.”
Whatever he had intended to say dies loudly and unattractively by strangulation in his throat.
“Hah?” Fujigaya squawks.
“Fumito-you’ve been eyeing him for the better part of two weeks now. Don’t tell me you’re not interested,” Goseki says calmly, in the sort of ‘I know you’ tone of voice that never fails to irritate.
“Just-sizing up the competition,” he blusters in response. Kawai could be competition of a sort, he supposes. They both rap and have a mutual “respect” for Takki, but Fujigaya’s never really considered Kawai as such. He’s always been the sexier one, and that’s good enough.
Goseki’s grunt is skeptical.
“Have-you’ve fucked him, haven’t you?”
“Do you really have to ask that?” Goseki replies, and Fujigaya laughs.
“No, I guess not. But why?”
“Why?”
“I don’t get it. What’s so appealing about him? Unless you like them awkward,” Fujigaya tilts his head as he watches Kawai exaggeratedly trip over Hashimoto’s feet, forward dive-rolling into a choreographed sprawl.
“Yaracchi asked that too, once,” Goseki comments idly.
“And?”
“He came to see things from a different point of view.” His smirk is just a little frightening, and Fuijgaya files that with other information he really wasn’t interested in knowing, alongside with the reason why Totsuka and Kitayama room together on tour (and why Kitayama has to set ten alarms).
“Right.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Hashimoto tries to imitate Kawai, tripping over his own feet. He lands in a push-up position between Kawai’s spread legs, nose-to-nose with him. His legs look absurdly longer than Kawai’s when they’re like this.
“That . . . was cutting it a little close. Catch yourself higher next time. And watch your knees,” Kawai gasps, voice higher-pitched and shaky from the close call. Fujigaya winces in sympathy.
“It tickles my lips when you talk,” Hashimoto replies, not moving. “Did I hurt you?” He reaches down with one hand. “My balance has gotten really good, hasn’t it? Tsukada-senpai said I should practice one-handed push ups.”
“What are you-oh my god,” Kawai jerks, scrambling to push himself backwards until his feet are at Hashimoto’s chin, and his knees are bent. His eyes are wide as they dart around the practice room, and his face has the beginnings of a blush.
“No way,” Fujigaya whispers, eyes equally wide. “Please tell me Hasshi didn’t realize what he was doing.”
Goseki coughs.
“Koichi.”
“Isn’t Fumito’s face cute?”
Fujigaya forces his mind onto a new train of thought, one that doesn’t contemplate the look in Hashimoto’s eyes or how very comfortable he was groping the rest of A.B.C.-Z. “You like to play with your food, don’t you.”
Smiling, Goseki chuckles. “Always.”
~*~
It seems entirely too coincidental when he opens the door to his hotel room and sees Kawai sitting on one of the beds.
“I thought I had Tama-chan.” Fujigaya leans back and checks the number on the door again.
“I was with Miyacchi,” Kawai says by way of explanation. “I was going to go down to the bath-you want to come?”
“Sure.”
It’s not polite to stare in the bath, but it seems to have become habit for his eyes to follow Kawai. Sitting on the low stool, the crouched position as he leans forward to rinse his hair is hardly flattering on any person, even if they are as trim as Kawai. His thighs are muscular and toned, and Fujigaya watches the water sluice down his back to puddle around his ass. It is, truthfully, a rather nice ass.
He remembers sitting on it on Shounen Club, having pushed down Kawai to act as a chair. It’s rather comfortable--squeezable, even. He remembers shifting just to get a better feel, and it was odd, feeling someone’s ass pressed against his own, but it was a bit of a turn-on, too, because he was sitting on Kawai, which put him at the center of attention, and, okay, maybe it was sort of arousing having Kawai on his knees (and there’s some mental imagery that he had never considered before, though he shouldn’t be surprised-he likes to be the center of attention, likes to be in control of where the attention is directed).
And then-that. He realizes. Kawai can be sexy. It’s not something sexy about him per se, but it’s a start. Accidentally sexy--though the word is a bit strong, maybe attractive, physically so, would be better, because Fujigaya has doubts that Kawai will ever achieve the sensual beauty that Jun is so famous for, no matter how spot on his impersonations are.
Kawai leans farther forward, fingers tangled in his hair, and rinses out shampoo. His hair parts to either side of his neck, exposing the nape. It’s oddly vulnerable, the length of his spine naked from his skull to his tailbone. His hair parts, and Fujigaya is reminded of a wide collar slipping down to expose the shoulder. Unintentional again-maybe this is what Goseki finds attractive, this unstudied sex appeal that contrasts with Kawai’s failure at doing it on purpose, how it looks innocent and untainted next to the whorishness of their industry. Of course, being in a group with Goseki, ‘untainted’ is a relative term.
“Tottsu might meet us here,” Kawai says, breaking the silence as he slips into the large tub.
“Hn.” His reply is noncommittal-his mind is preoccupied with images of Kawai on his knees and how his fluff-hair would feel sliding between his fingers.
Kawai chuckles nervously. “You being quiet is scary.”
“What? Oh, sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. I’m going back up.” Before he starts to get a serious erection.
“I’ll stay. I need the soak.”
“You’re not injured, are you?” Concern feels like an excuse to let his eyes openly wander, and he turns his head to force himself to stop.
“No, just tense shoulders. I’ll get a massage later.”
He almost offers, which is uncharacteristic-Fujigaya’s always been a little selfish, even in bed. He’s not much of a giver; he prefers to receive. But imagining Kawai on his stomach, nude with his spine exposed from the nape of his neck to his tailbone, his butt making the perfect cushion . . .
He wonders if he’s developing a strange fetish.
~*~
He’s dozing off when Kawai returns, and a series of strange squeaks draw him awake.
“What the hell are you doing?” He slurs, looking as Kawai rests one leg on the bed and bends over, his yukata pulling tight across his backside. Fuck, he’s definitely got some sort of fixation.
“Stretching.”
“Are you planning on strenuous night-time activities?” He rolls onto his side, and tells himself it’s better for holding a conversation.
“It’s best to stretch after a hot bath, your muscles are looser. It’s easier to stay flexible.” Kawai tugs the yukata up and lets his feet slide to either side until he’s doing the splits. “And you feel so loose and relaxed afterwards.”
Fujigaya chokes on air and rolls back. “You have too much energy. Just-turn the light off when you’re done.”
~*~
“Still angsting over that fake interview question,” Kitayama observes as he sinks onto the floor next to Fujigaya where he’s watching Kawai rehearse with a handful of the younger Juniors, confusing them by changing the choreography midway through. “You haven’t stopped watching him since. I heard you were asking Goseki about his sex life.”
“I’m not angsting,” Fujigaya mutters. “I’m contemplating, and he lies.”
“Nursing deep inner turmoil.”
“Pondering. Understanding my fellow man.”
“Sulking.”
“Go to sleep.”
“That sounded suspiciously like ‘go to hell.’ Respect your leader.”
“Only when you’re awake for more than ten minutes straight.”
Tamamori and Miyata approach Kawai, and Fujigaya is startled by how close Tamamori stands to him. It makes sense, of course, because of Miyata and Kawai’s friendship, but there doesn’t seem to be any air between Tamamori’s body and Kawai’s side, and why does he have to lean so close to whisper into Kawai’s ear? Miyata is pressed against Kawai’s other side, and he’s leaning in close too, and do they have that sort of friendship?
“You look jealous.”
“Confused,” Fujigaya absently corrects.
Kawai bursts into laughter and pushes them both away, but Fujigaya thinks he’s breathing just a little too hard, that it’s just a bit too forced.
“Fine, fine, we’ll switch again,” Kawai says, pulling a card key out of his pocket.
“You’re in denial,” Kitayama says, standing and leaving, and taking the chance to have the last word with him, the annoyingly perceptive, narcoleptic bastard.
~*~
He’s always thought that he’s been a brutally honest person. If something is red, then it’s red. If it’s stupid, then it’s stupid. A pear is a pear. He likes guys. He likes girls-but he likes guys better. He likes guys who stand out, who shine with charisma, but don’t out-shine him, at least not completely. (“So between you and Koki, you must be the beauty?” Tamamori asked once, and Fujigaya was never sure whether it was sarcasm or not.)
The very idea of being in denial is preposterous. What would he be in denial about? He is completely at peace with his current . . . liking for Kawai’s ass. And the nape of his neck. And his spine. And the way that he stretches and twists and curls after a bath before collapsing onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. And the way that Kawai makes him laugh without even trying. And his ridiculous cotton candy hair, especially the way it frizzes and puffs up with static when he rolls out of bed in the morning.
“Fucking hell,” Fujigaya says at his reflection while he brushes his teeth.
“Cavity?” Kawai asks when he sees the rabid look of horror (rabid because of the toothpaste foam).
“I-forgot something. Somewhere.” His brain, a few months ago, apparently. He hates it when Kitayama is right.
~*~
He isn’t shy about asking for what he wants, and he’s not above resorting to a little manipulation. But Kawai seems to be in his own special category of Other that both perplexes and intimidates him from taking any sort of step forward. “I really like your ass, and also the back of your neck, mind if I fuck you, preferably from behind?” is probably not the best pickup line. On the other hand, given what Fujigaya’s observed, and the fact that Kawai is in Ebikisu, he’s clearly up for casual sex, which is all Fujigaya wants at the moment, maybe it’s the perfect sort of line. Things that begin with ‘R’ are for later, after they see how compatible they are in bed, because Fujigaya has his doubts. It’s a backwards system, sex first, relationships later, but it hasn’t let him down yet. With his schedule, relationships are hard-it’s better knowing whether it’s worth it to put the time in or not. He doesn’t have time to nurse a blushing virgin down the road to debauchery. That, and things like ‘exclusivity’ are a little tricky in his group-it’s a relief, actually, knowing that it’s the same with Kawai’s.
Still, he hesitates.
“If you don’t do something, then Tama-chan and Miyacchi are going to hog him,” Kitayama says.
“And then Hasshi will pout,” Goseki adds.
“And Goseki-sama will be grouchy, which will make Yaracchi more sadistic than usual,” Tsuka-chan smiles. “Isn’t he doing your choreography for a new song?”
“Butoukan has not been good for you,” Fujigaya gripes.
~*~
It’s the last day of the tour, and Fujigaya feels a little regretful, and a little relieved as he fumbles in his pocket for the card key.
“Hey, do you want to go to . . . the . . . bath . . . oh.“ Fujigaya’s brain shuts down from information overload, and he blinks slowly, trying to process one thing at a time.
Kawai isn’t alone in the room.
“I told you he was coming,” Kawai gasps, twisting against Totsuka, whose hand tightens around Kawai’s thigh where he’s holding it back.
Kawai is naked.
“You should probably close the door,” Totsuka murmurs, smiling. Fujigaya’s never noticed how cheerful and innocent Totsuka’s smile is until this moment. It is disturbingly out of place with a naked Kawai leaning back against him. The entire group is far stranger than Fujigaya had ever realized.
Totsuka and Kitayama are on the bed with a naked Kawai.
The door falls shut behind him.
“You seemed like you needed help making the first move,” Kitayama finally says, lips reddened and swollen, and now that he’s sat up a bit, Fujigaya can see that two fingers, slick with lubricant, are pushing into Kawai’s ass. “Looks sexy like this, doesn’t he?” His fingers thrust in, and Kawai moans.
“Holy fuck,” Fujigaya whispers. There’s something more than sweat on Kawai’s stomach.
“You missed first and second base,” Kitayama snickers, teeth scraping the tendon at the juncture of Kawai’s pelvis and inner thigh, and Kawai twists against Totsuka again, his spine arching.
“He’s always fast if it’s been a while,” Totsuka explains. “But he has a lot of energy, so it’s okay.”
“I see,” Fujigaya replies faintly.
“Look how hard he is,” trailing one finger down the underside of Kawai’s cock, Kitayama turns his head to the side and glances at Fujigaya through his lashes. “Something you both have in common: getting off on being watched.”
“It’s not-“ Kawai protests, but Kitayama parts his lips again, sliding down as he matches the pace set by his fingers. “You can do more.”
It takes a few seconds for Fujigaya to realize the words were meant for him.
“Is it okay?” He asks Totsuka. “You seem to have a plan here.”
“Hey,” Kawai says, too breathless to sound properly indignant.
“Oh, we were just warming him up for you,” Totsuka responds, smiling (it’s too sunny, too cheerful, and it’s still creepy).
He toes his shoes off and leaves his shirt hanging over the back of a chair. It feels weird stripping down any further-Kitayama and Totsuka are still fully clothed. On his knees at the edge of the bed, Fujigaya hesitates, until Kawai hooks a hand behind his neck and pulls him in for a kiss.
Kawai’s lips are dry and badly chapped from being bitten, and his fingers clutch a bit too tightly, so that Fujigaya feels overbalanced and isn’t entirely sure where to put his hands. There’s too many people pressed too closely together, he thinks as his fingers drag down Kawai’s chest, over his stomach.
“’Mitsu,” Kawai breathes against Fujigaya’s mouth.
Kitayama hums a question, and Kawai cries out, nails digging into the back of Fujigaya’s neck.
“No-don’t let him,” Fujigaya cuts in, and Kitayama squeezes the base of Kawai’s erection, tugging gently on his balls until the tension eases from his body.
“Fuck,” Kawai says weakly. “Not fair.”
“But I want to fuck you.” Fujigaya doesn’t really register that he’s somehow taken Kitayama’s place, that Kitayama is to his side, squeezing lubricant onto his waiting hand.
“I could go again. Maybe. Probably.”
“Hmm.” The skin beneath Kawai’s ear smells like cologne and soap, and it grows hot under his lips when he slides two fingers inside Kawai. Kawai’s cock is still wet with Kitayama’s saliva, and Fujigaya laughs softly as he wraps his hand around the warm length. Kitayama’s fingers are reaching around to unfasten his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down.
“Indirect kiss?” Kawai grins.
“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Turn onto your knees.” He takes the condom that Totsuka hands out, suddenly impatient, smoothing one hand up Kawai’s spine to push aside his hair, and tastes the skin just below his hairline, where there isn’t the smell of anything except skin and Kawai’s shampoo. He adds a third finger at the same time his teeth scrape over the back, and Kawai fluctuates between tension and total relaxation, not knowing quite which to settle on. It takes a little more skill than usual to open the condom with the fingers of one hand slicked, but he rolls it on fast enough, pausing only to drag the head of his cock down Kawai’s cleft to see Kawai’s arms shake.
“You never stop teasing,” Kawai complains, just as Fujigaya decides to thrust inside, steadily, smoothly, his teeth around the knobby section of spine where it meets his neck. Kawai’s hot, tight, all the wonderful things generally associated with being a great fuck, and his ass is firm against Fujigaya’s pelvis. There’s no painful clash of his hips against too little padding, just a muted smacking sensation, a brief moment of skin sticking to skin, and then peeling apart, over and over and over.
There’s rustling, off to the side where Kitayama and Totsuka are, but it seems less important compared to the way Kawai’s knuckles turn white from clenching around the sheets.
“Please tell me you’re close.”
“Eh?” Fujigaya says, smiling as he licks at Kawai’s spine between his shoulder blades. “I thought you said you could go twice more.”
A strangled groan dies in Kawai’s throat, and Fujigaya can see what Goseki, at least, would find appealing. He shifts his weight, hips still moving, until Kawai stiffens, and comes, shaking, dropping down to rest on his elbows when Fujigaya thrusts in again at the same angle.
“One more,” Fujigaya promises, rocking his hips slowly, eyes crossing at the way Kawai squeezes him in tight pulses.
“I’m not sixteen,” Kawai gasps, even as he wraps one hand around his own cock.
“But you said twice,” Fujigaya mock-whines and pulls him up into a kneeling position so that he can see better. It takes a bit of time to nurse Kawai through oversensitivity into another erection, but slow, drawn-out thrusts and a trail of reddening marks blooming across his shoulders and neck help bring him back while they watch themselves in the mirror off to the side.
“O-okay,” Kawai says dropping his hand.
“I’m feeling lazy-you do the work.” Fujigaya rests back on his hands, and watches Kawai flounder to match his mental footing. The sweat on Kawai’s neck is enough to keep his neck free of hair if Fujigaya fingercombs it to the side, and he can see the uninterrupted line of his spine, watch his muscles flex as he moves. “Well?” He squeezes Kawai’s ass.
He takes it slow at first, like he’s never tried it out this way before, or he’s distracted by their reflection and his straining thighs, and the dim figures of Kitayama and Totsuka in the background, but Fujigaya uses one hand on his ass to urge him faster, finally giving up and pushing Kawai forward onto his hands and knees again watching his own body move in sharp, hard motions and Kawai’s face until he curls over Kawai and tastes his sweat, wrapping his hand around Kawai’s cock and matching the pace of his hips.
Fujigaya feels like he could fuck Kawai forever, watch the way his face change from arousal to need to satisfaction and back again, with his wispy hair curling damply around his face and his body stretched in whatever position Fujigaya can think of. His body disagrees, having reached its limit, and he can feel the tightness in his balls as they draw up near his body.
“I’m close,” he says almost apologetically.
“Oh good,” Kawai replies mildly, blinking as hair tickles his eyes, “I was waiting for you.”
It’s the first time he’s ever laughed into an orgasm, stomach taut with a rollercoaster loops and twists as his hips drive forward almost involuntarily, a broken rhythm of thrust-and-press, thrust-and-press against Kawai’s ass while his mind blanks and all that’s left is physical sensation.
Totsuka has wet washcloths ready when they disentangle themselves.
“Thanks-I think,” Fujigaya murmurs. “It is really weird thanking you for blowing him.” And for watching us have sex, but his brain-to-mouth filter is working just enough to stop him from tacking that on.
“It will be worth it,” Totsuka shrugs.
“If anyone wakes me up tomorrow, I’ll probably kill them,” Kitayama says as he follows Totsuka out the door, trying not to look too eager, though the bulge in his pants says otherwise.
“Only tomorrow?” Fujigaya hears the smile in Totsuka’s voice. Something about the tone reminds him vaguely of Goseki, which is ridiculous, because Totsuka is supposed to be the kind, nurturing older brother type.
“Make it the next three days,” Kitayama corrects, poking his head back in the room.
Fujigaya is suddenly really, really glad that he never got involved with A.B.C.-Z in that way before.
~*~
“You must have a thing for shorter guys,” Senga says, invading his personal space. “Koki, Takki, Kawai.”
“I can’t help it that I’m tall!”
“Kitayama, Yara,” Nikaido continues.
“I never-“ He stops the lie, none of them will believe it anyway.
“I guess this means you and I are out,” Yokoo says sadly, slinging an arm around Tamamori, who screws up his face in an attempt to look distraught.
A knock sounds on the door, but A.B.C.-Z doesn’t wait for a response-it wouldn’t be anything they hadn’t seen before, anyway. Goseki looks pleased with himself. Kawai is embarrassed, and Totsuka is pinching the bridge of his nose like he feels a headache coming along while simultaneously wishing he were anywhere else. Tsukada looks like he can’t really believe he’s there, but it’s the eager curiosity as Hasshi checks them out that gives it away.
“Oh hell no,” Fujigaya says as Kawai mouths an apology. “Eighteen and over.”
“What.” Yokoo gapes.
“I have standards of intelligence,” Tamamori protests as he eyes Hasshi. (“But you like Miyacchi,” Nikaido replies.)
“In the interest of intergroup unity,” Goseki announces, ignoring them, “and since, with the exception of Sen-chan and Kitayama, you’re all a bit slow in making the rounds, we thought we should have a get-together. Now works for you, doesn’t it?”
by pot_and_kettle
Title: A-ha
Pairing/Groups: Kis-My-Ft2/A.B.C.-Z - Fujigaya Taisuke/Kawai Fumito, Totsuka Shota/Kitayama Hiromitsu/Kawai Fumito, mentionings of Tottsu/Kitayama, OT7 for Kisumai and OT4/5 for ABC-Z, and assorted intragroup and intergroup pairings
Rating: NC17
Warnings: porn, little plot, Ebikisu being Ebikisu
Notes: For mousapelli. Your combination of Ebikisu was a fun challenge, I seriously hope you enjoy this. To E and L, thank you so much for betaing. ♥
---
It’s just a game that doubles as interview practice to pass the time.
“Something irritating about Kitayama.”
“His alarm clock.”
Tamamori twirls a chunk of hair between his fingers, eyeing the ends of the strands. “Something nobody knows about me.”
“You take all the fun out of it,” Fujigaya replies. “I heard you talking to your lube once.”
“You did not!” Tamamori protests, his ears turning red.
“’Lubricant-san,’” Fujigaya pouts, “’Why do you have to run out so quickly? Condom-san isn’t wet enough by himself.’”
Burying his face in his arms to the sound of loud laughter, Tamamori mumbles death threats into his costume sleeves.
“That’s not appropriate for magazines, it shouldn’t count,” he sulks.
Kitayama opens his eyes. “My turn after this one. Something sexy about Kawai.”
“That’s not Kis-My-Ft2.”
“What if it’s a crosstalk? And he’s in our dressing room enough to count as a substitute for Miyata,” Nikaido says.
“Oi.”
“. . .” He can’t think of anything. Even pretending that he’s a girl, Fujigaya can’t find anything sexy about Kawai. Kawai’s personality is nice, his impressions are funny-he supposes that these things might make Kawai attractive, but sexy? No.
“He’s speechless,” Nikaido observes. “Nice job.”
Kitayama preens.
“Shut up, I’m trying to think,” Fujigaya snaps. He’s stubborn, and determined to find an answer-he always has one. It’s part of who he is, part of his identity in Kis-My-Ft2.
Years of acrobatics have made Kawai muscular, maybe that’s sexy, but when he thinks of Kawai shirtless, those impressive arms somehow look better on Tsukada or Goseki. The tendency to rip his shirt open and roll his hips is so over exaggeratedly done that Kawai ends up looking ridiculous more often than not. The hair-maybe the hair was sexy? Fluffy brown waves made him think more of a long-haired dachsund, but an answer was an answer, and Fujigaya was grasping at straws.
“His hair,” he finally says, hoping he sounds confident enough.
“Mm,” Senga agrees. “Get your fingers in there and really mess it up-“
“Hey.” Turning around, Nikaido glares.
“-you can always tell if they’ve been doing it in their dressing room because his hair is like this,” Senga shoves his fingers through his own hair and makes it stick out. “Tsuka-chan told me.”
The rest of them pause to digest the mental image of Tsukada and Senga talking about their sex lives.
“It sounds unbelievable and yet . . . “ Kitayama murmurs.
“Kis-My-Ft2, two minutes,” The stage manager walks by.
Fujigaya is still stuck on Kawai’s hair. It’s too wispy to be attractive when it’s disheveled-he doesn’t understand what the rest of them see. It bothers him that it’s bothering him. It bothers him more that he still can’t find a ready answer when he always has them. Any other Ebikisu member, and he could find something, he’s sure. Challenges are annoying, but he’s determined to overcome this one.
Something sexy about Kawai . . .
~*~
He feels like a stalker, observing Kawai from the corner of his eye. He’s a bit of a scene-stealer, Kawai is, whether he intends to be or not. Some of it comes from moving-rocking back on his heels, fiddling with his costume, fiddling with someone else’s costume, passing his microphone from hand to hand. Fujigaya doesn’t think Kawai entirely realizes it-his stillness only comes in brief spurts, like a dog alerted into fixing its attention on one point, freezing before bursting into motion again.
“You know,” Goseki finally says with a strange little smile twisting the corners of his lips, “you don’t need permission, just corner him somewhere.”
Whatever he had intended to say dies loudly and unattractively by strangulation in his throat.
“Hah?” Fujigaya squawks.
“Fumito-you’ve been eyeing him for the better part of two weeks now. Don’t tell me you’re not interested,” Goseki says calmly, in the sort of ‘I know you’ tone of voice that never fails to irritate.
“Just-sizing up the competition,” he blusters in response. Kawai could be competition of a sort, he supposes. They both rap and have a mutual “respect” for Takki, but Fujigaya’s never really considered Kawai as such. He’s always been the sexier one, and that’s good enough.
Goseki’s grunt is skeptical.
“Have-you’ve fucked him, haven’t you?”
“Do you really have to ask that?” Goseki replies, and Fujigaya laughs.
“No, I guess not. But why?”
“Why?”
“I don’t get it. What’s so appealing about him? Unless you like them awkward,” Fujigaya tilts his head as he watches Kawai exaggeratedly trip over Hashimoto’s feet, forward dive-rolling into a choreographed sprawl.
“Yaracchi asked that too, once,” Goseki comments idly.
“And?”
“He came to see things from a different point of view.” His smirk is just a little frightening, and Fuijgaya files that with other information he really wasn’t interested in knowing, alongside with the reason why Totsuka and Kitayama room together on tour (and why Kitayama has to set ten alarms).
“Right.”
“You don’t believe me.”
Hashimoto tries to imitate Kawai, tripping over his own feet. He lands in a push-up position between Kawai’s spread legs, nose-to-nose with him. His legs look absurdly longer than Kawai’s when they’re like this.
“That . . . was cutting it a little close. Catch yourself higher next time. And watch your knees,” Kawai gasps, voice higher-pitched and shaky from the close call. Fujigaya winces in sympathy.
“It tickles my lips when you talk,” Hashimoto replies, not moving. “Did I hurt you?” He reaches down with one hand. “My balance has gotten really good, hasn’t it? Tsukada-senpai said I should practice one-handed push ups.”
“What are you-oh my god,” Kawai jerks, scrambling to push himself backwards until his feet are at Hashimoto’s chin, and his knees are bent. His eyes are wide as they dart around the practice room, and his face has the beginnings of a blush.
“No way,” Fujigaya whispers, eyes equally wide. “Please tell me Hasshi didn’t realize what he was doing.”
Goseki coughs.
“Koichi.”
“Isn’t Fumito’s face cute?”
Fujigaya forces his mind onto a new train of thought, one that doesn’t contemplate the look in Hashimoto’s eyes or how very comfortable he was groping the rest of A.B.C.-Z. “You like to play with your food, don’t you.”
Smiling, Goseki chuckles. “Always.”
~*~
It seems entirely too coincidental when he opens the door to his hotel room and sees Kawai sitting on one of the beds.
“I thought I had Tama-chan.” Fujigaya leans back and checks the number on the door again.
“I was with Miyacchi,” Kawai says by way of explanation. “I was going to go down to the bath-you want to come?”
“Sure.”
It’s not polite to stare in the bath, but it seems to have become habit for his eyes to follow Kawai. Sitting on the low stool, the crouched position as he leans forward to rinse his hair is hardly flattering on any person, even if they are as trim as Kawai. His thighs are muscular and toned, and Fujigaya watches the water sluice down his back to puddle around his ass. It is, truthfully, a rather nice ass.
He remembers sitting on it on Shounen Club, having pushed down Kawai to act as a chair. It’s rather comfortable--squeezable, even. He remembers shifting just to get a better feel, and it was odd, feeling someone’s ass pressed against his own, but it was a bit of a turn-on, too, because he was sitting on Kawai, which put him at the center of attention, and, okay, maybe it was sort of arousing having Kawai on his knees (and there’s some mental imagery that he had never considered before, though he shouldn’t be surprised-he likes to be the center of attention, likes to be in control of where the attention is directed).
And then-that. He realizes. Kawai can be sexy. It’s not something sexy about him per se, but it’s a start. Accidentally sexy--though the word is a bit strong, maybe attractive, physically so, would be better, because Fujigaya has doubts that Kawai will ever achieve the sensual beauty that Jun is so famous for, no matter how spot on his impersonations are.
Kawai leans farther forward, fingers tangled in his hair, and rinses out shampoo. His hair parts to either side of his neck, exposing the nape. It’s oddly vulnerable, the length of his spine naked from his skull to his tailbone. His hair parts, and Fujigaya is reminded of a wide collar slipping down to expose the shoulder. Unintentional again-maybe this is what Goseki finds attractive, this unstudied sex appeal that contrasts with Kawai’s failure at doing it on purpose, how it looks innocent and untainted next to the whorishness of their industry. Of course, being in a group with Goseki, ‘untainted’ is a relative term.
“Tottsu might meet us here,” Kawai says, breaking the silence as he slips into the large tub.
“Hn.” His reply is noncommittal-his mind is preoccupied with images of Kawai on his knees and how his fluff-hair would feel sliding between his fingers.
Kawai chuckles nervously. “You being quiet is scary.”
“What? Oh, sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. I’m going back up.” Before he starts to get a serious erection.
“I’ll stay. I need the soak.”
“You’re not injured, are you?” Concern feels like an excuse to let his eyes openly wander, and he turns his head to force himself to stop.
“No, just tense shoulders. I’ll get a massage later.”
He almost offers, which is uncharacteristic-Fujigaya’s always been a little selfish, even in bed. He’s not much of a giver; he prefers to receive. But imagining Kawai on his stomach, nude with his spine exposed from the nape of his neck to his tailbone, his butt making the perfect cushion . . .
He wonders if he’s developing a strange fetish.
~*~
He’s dozing off when Kawai returns, and a series of strange squeaks draw him awake.
“What the hell are you doing?” He slurs, looking as Kawai rests one leg on the bed and bends over, his yukata pulling tight across his backside. Fuck, he’s definitely got some sort of fixation.
“Stretching.”
“Are you planning on strenuous night-time activities?” He rolls onto his side, and tells himself it’s better for holding a conversation.
“It’s best to stretch after a hot bath, your muscles are looser. It’s easier to stay flexible.” Kawai tugs the yukata up and lets his feet slide to either side until he’s doing the splits. “And you feel so loose and relaxed afterwards.”
Fujigaya chokes on air and rolls back. “You have too much energy. Just-turn the light off when you’re done.”
~*~
“Still angsting over that fake interview question,” Kitayama observes as he sinks onto the floor next to Fujigaya where he’s watching Kawai rehearse with a handful of the younger Juniors, confusing them by changing the choreography midway through. “You haven’t stopped watching him since. I heard you were asking Goseki about his sex life.”
“I’m not angsting,” Fujigaya mutters. “I’m contemplating, and he lies.”
“Nursing deep inner turmoil.”
“Pondering. Understanding my fellow man.”
“Sulking.”
“Go to sleep.”
“That sounded suspiciously like ‘go to hell.’ Respect your leader.”
“Only when you’re awake for more than ten minutes straight.”
Tamamori and Miyata approach Kawai, and Fujigaya is startled by how close Tamamori stands to him. It makes sense, of course, because of Miyata and Kawai’s friendship, but there doesn’t seem to be any air between Tamamori’s body and Kawai’s side, and why does he have to lean so close to whisper into Kawai’s ear? Miyata is pressed against Kawai’s other side, and he’s leaning in close too, and do they have that sort of friendship?
“You look jealous.”
“Confused,” Fujigaya absently corrects.
Kawai bursts into laughter and pushes them both away, but Fujigaya thinks he’s breathing just a little too hard, that it’s just a bit too forced.
“Fine, fine, we’ll switch again,” Kawai says, pulling a card key out of his pocket.
“You’re in denial,” Kitayama says, standing and leaving, and taking the chance to have the last word with him, the annoyingly perceptive, narcoleptic bastard.
~*~
He’s always thought that he’s been a brutally honest person. If something is red, then it’s red. If it’s stupid, then it’s stupid. A pear is a pear. He likes guys. He likes girls-but he likes guys better. He likes guys who stand out, who shine with charisma, but don’t out-shine him, at least not completely. (“So between you and Koki, you must be the beauty?” Tamamori asked once, and Fujigaya was never sure whether it was sarcasm or not.)
The very idea of being in denial is preposterous. What would he be in denial about? He is completely at peace with his current . . . liking for Kawai’s ass. And the nape of his neck. And his spine. And the way that he stretches and twists and curls after a bath before collapsing onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. And the way that Kawai makes him laugh without even trying. And his ridiculous cotton candy hair, especially the way it frizzes and puffs up with static when he rolls out of bed in the morning.
“Fucking hell,” Fujigaya says at his reflection while he brushes his teeth.
“Cavity?” Kawai asks when he sees the rabid look of horror (rabid because of the toothpaste foam).
“I-forgot something. Somewhere.” His brain, a few months ago, apparently. He hates it when Kitayama is right.
~*~
He isn’t shy about asking for what he wants, and he’s not above resorting to a little manipulation. But Kawai seems to be in his own special category of Other that both perplexes and intimidates him from taking any sort of step forward. “I really like your ass, and also the back of your neck, mind if I fuck you, preferably from behind?” is probably not the best pickup line. On the other hand, given what Fujigaya’s observed, and the fact that Kawai is in Ebikisu, he’s clearly up for casual sex, which is all Fujigaya wants at the moment, maybe it’s the perfect sort of line. Things that begin with ‘R’ are for later, after they see how compatible they are in bed, because Fujigaya has his doubts. It’s a backwards system, sex first, relationships later, but it hasn’t let him down yet. With his schedule, relationships are hard-it’s better knowing whether it’s worth it to put the time in or not. He doesn’t have time to nurse a blushing virgin down the road to debauchery. That, and things like ‘exclusivity’ are a little tricky in his group-it’s a relief, actually, knowing that it’s the same with Kawai’s.
Still, he hesitates.
“If you don’t do something, then Tama-chan and Miyacchi are going to hog him,” Kitayama says.
“And then Hasshi will pout,” Goseki adds.
“And Goseki-sama will be grouchy, which will make Yaracchi more sadistic than usual,” Tsuka-chan smiles. “Isn’t he doing your choreography for a new song?”
“Butoukan has not been good for you,” Fujigaya gripes.
~*~
It’s the last day of the tour, and Fujigaya feels a little regretful, and a little relieved as he fumbles in his pocket for the card key.
“Hey, do you want to go to . . . the . . . bath . . . oh.“ Fujigaya’s brain shuts down from information overload, and he blinks slowly, trying to process one thing at a time.
Kawai isn’t alone in the room.
“I told you he was coming,” Kawai gasps, twisting against Totsuka, whose hand tightens around Kawai’s thigh where he’s holding it back.
Kawai is naked.
“You should probably close the door,” Totsuka murmurs, smiling. Fujigaya’s never noticed how cheerful and innocent Totsuka’s smile is until this moment. It is disturbingly out of place with a naked Kawai leaning back against him. The entire group is far stranger than Fujigaya had ever realized.
Totsuka and Kitayama are on the bed with a naked Kawai.
The door falls shut behind him.
“You seemed like you needed help making the first move,” Kitayama finally says, lips reddened and swollen, and now that he’s sat up a bit, Fujigaya can see that two fingers, slick with lubricant, are pushing into Kawai’s ass. “Looks sexy like this, doesn’t he?” His fingers thrust in, and Kawai moans.
“Holy fuck,” Fujigaya whispers. There’s something more than sweat on Kawai’s stomach.
“You missed first and second base,” Kitayama snickers, teeth scraping the tendon at the juncture of Kawai’s pelvis and inner thigh, and Kawai twists against Totsuka again, his spine arching.
“He’s always fast if it’s been a while,” Totsuka explains. “But he has a lot of energy, so it’s okay.”
“I see,” Fujigaya replies faintly.
“Look how hard he is,” trailing one finger down the underside of Kawai’s cock, Kitayama turns his head to the side and glances at Fujigaya through his lashes. “Something you both have in common: getting off on being watched.”
“It’s not-“ Kawai protests, but Kitayama parts his lips again, sliding down as he matches the pace set by his fingers. “You can do more.”
It takes a few seconds for Fujigaya to realize the words were meant for him.
“Is it okay?” He asks Totsuka. “You seem to have a plan here.”
“Hey,” Kawai says, too breathless to sound properly indignant.
“Oh, we were just warming him up for you,” Totsuka responds, smiling (it’s too sunny, too cheerful, and it’s still creepy).
He toes his shoes off and leaves his shirt hanging over the back of a chair. It feels weird stripping down any further-Kitayama and Totsuka are still fully clothed. On his knees at the edge of the bed, Fujigaya hesitates, until Kawai hooks a hand behind his neck and pulls him in for a kiss.
Kawai’s lips are dry and badly chapped from being bitten, and his fingers clutch a bit too tightly, so that Fujigaya feels overbalanced and isn’t entirely sure where to put his hands. There’s too many people pressed too closely together, he thinks as his fingers drag down Kawai’s chest, over his stomach.
“’Mitsu,” Kawai breathes against Fujigaya’s mouth.
Kitayama hums a question, and Kawai cries out, nails digging into the back of Fujigaya’s neck.
“No-don’t let him,” Fujigaya cuts in, and Kitayama squeezes the base of Kawai’s erection, tugging gently on his balls until the tension eases from his body.
“Fuck,” Kawai says weakly. “Not fair.”
“But I want to fuck you.” Fujigaya doesn’t really register that he’s somehow taken Kitayama’s place, that Kitayama is to his side, squeezing lubricant onto his waiting hand.
“I could go again. Maybe. Probably.”
“Hmm.” The skin beneath Kawai’s ear smells like cologne and soap, and it grows hot under his lips when he slides two fingers inside Kawai. Kawai’s cock is still wet with Kitayama’s saliva, and Fujigaya laughs softly as he wraps his hand around the warm length. Kitayama’s fingers are reaching around to unfasten his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down.
“Indirect kiss?” Kawai grins.
“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Turn onto your knees.” He takes the condom that Totsuka hands out, suddenly impatient, smoothing one hand up Kawai’s spine to push aside his hair, and tastes the skin just below his hairline, where there isn’t the smell of anything except skin and Kawai’s shampoo. He adds a third finger at the same time his teeth scrape over the back, and Kawai fluctuates between tension and total relaxation, not knowing quite which to settle on. It takes a little more skill than usual to open the condom with the fingers of one hand slicked, but he rolls it on fast enough, pausing only to drag the head of his cock down Kawai’s cleft to see Kawai’s arms shake.
“You never stop teasing,” Kawai complains, just as Fujigaya decides to thrust inside, steadily, smoothly, his teeth around the knobby section of spine where it meets his neck. Kawai’s hot, tight, all the wonderful things generally associated with being a great fuck, and his ass is firm against Fujigaya’s pelvis. There’s no painful clash of his hips against too little padding, just a muted smacking sensation, a brief moment of skin sticking to skin, and then peeling apart, over and over and over.
There’s rustling, off to the side where Kitayama and Totsuka are, but it seems less important compared to the way Kawai’s knuckles turn white from clenching around the sheets.
“Please tell me you’re close.”
“Eh?” Fujigaya says, smiling as he licks at Kawai’s spine between his shoulder blades. “I thought you said you could go twice more.”
A strangled groan dies in Kawai’s throat, and Fujigaya can see what Goseki, at least, would find appealing. He shifts his weight, hips still moving, until Kawai stiffens, and comes, shaking, dropping down to rest on his elbows when Fujigaya thrusts in again at the same angle.
“One more,” Fujigaya promises, rocking his hips slowly, eyes crossing at the way Kawai squeezes him in tight pulses.
“I’m not sixteen,” Kawai gasps, even as he wraps one hand around his own cock.
“But you said twice,” Fujigaya mock-whines and pulls him up into a kneeling position so that he can see better. It takes a bit of time to nurse Kawai through oversensitivity into another erection, but slow, drawn-out thrusts and a trail of reddening marks blooming across his shoulders and neck help bring him back while they watch themselves in the mirror off to the side.
“O-okay,” Kawai says dropping his hand.
“I’m feeling lazy-you do the work.” Fujigaya rests back on his hands, and watches Kawai flounder to match his mental footing. The sweat on Kawai’s neck is enough to keep his neck free of hair if Fujigaya fingercombs it to the side, and he can see the uninterrupted line of his spine, watch his muscles flex as he moves. “Well?” He squeezes Kawai’s ass.
He takes it slow at first, like he’s never tried it out this way before, or he’s distracted by their reflection and his straining thighs, and the dim figures of Kitayama and Totsuka in the background, but Fujigaya uses one hand on his ass to urge him faster, finally giving up and pushing Kawai forward onto his hands and knees again watching his own body move in sharp, hard motions and Kawai’s face until he curls over Kawai and tastes his sweat, wrapping his hand around Kawai’s cock and matching the pace of his hips.
Fujigaya feels like he could fuck Kawai forever, watch the way his face change from arousal to need to satisfaction and back again, with his wispy hair curling damply around his face and his body stretched in whatever position Fujigaya can think of. His body disagrees, having reached its limit, and he can feel the tightness in his balls as they draw up near his body.
“I’m close,” he says almost apologetically.
“Oh good,” Kawai replies mildly, blinking as hair tickles his eyes, “I was waiting for you.”
It’s the first time he’s ever laughed into an orgasm, stomach taut with a rollercoaster loops and twists as his hips drive forward almost involuntarily, a broken rhythm of thrust-and-press, thrust-and-press against Kawai’s ass while his mind blanks and all that’s left is physical sensation.
Totsuka has wet washcloths ready when they disentangle themselves.
“Thanks-I think,” Fujigaya murmurs. “It is really weird thanking you for blowing him.” And for watching us have sex, but his brain-to-mouth filter is working just enough to stop him from tacking that on.
“It will be worth it,” Totsuka shrugs.
“If anyone wakes me up tomorrow, I’ll probably kill them,” Kitayama says as he follows Totsuka out the door, trying not to look too eager, though the bulge in his pants says otherwise.
“Only tomorrow?” Fujigaya hears the smile in Totsuka’s voice. Something about the tone reminds him vaguely of Goseki, which is ridiculous, because Totsuka is supposed to be the kind, nurturing older brother type.
“Make it the next three days,” Kitayama corrects, poking his head back in the room.
Fujigaya is suddenly really, really glad that he never got involved with A.B.C.-Z in that way before.
~*~
“You must have a thing for shorter guys,” Senga says, invading his personal space. “Koki, Takki, Kawai.”
“I can’t help it that I’m tall!”
“Kitayama, Yara,” Nikaido continues.
“I never-“ He stops the lie, none of them will believe it anyway.
“I guess this means you and I are out,” Yokoo says sadly, slinging an arm around Tamamori, who screws up his face in an attempt to look distraught.
A knock sounds on the door, but A.B.C.-Z doesn’t wait for a response-it wouldn’t be anything they hadn’t seen before, anyway. Goseki looks pleased with himself. Kawai is embarrassed, and Totsuka is pinching the bridge of his nose like he feels a headache coming along while simultaneously wishing he were anywhere else. Tsukada looks like he can’t really believe he’s there, but it’s the eager curiosity as Hasshi checks them out that gives it away.
“Oh hell no,” Fujigaya says as Kawai mouths an apology. “Eighteen and over.”
“What.” Yokoo gapes.
“I have standards of intelligence,” Tamamori protests as he eyes Hasshi. (“But you like Miyacchi,” Nikaido replies.)
“In the interest of intergroup unity,” Goseki announces, ignoring them, “and since, with the exception of Sen-chan and Kitayama, you’re all a bit slow in making the rounds, we thought we should have a get-together. Now works for you, doesn’t it?”