[One-shot] Mirror Images
Mirror Images
Kisumai - Kitayama/Fujigaya
2,816 words, R/NC-17, Dance Team AU
Kitayama's always prided himself for being the one unswayed by Fujigaya, but he isn't standing quite as firm as he thought.
For ryogrande for je_philippines's fundraiser. Thank you so much for being patient with me and I hope you enjoy!
(This was totally supposed to have a bit more plot with fleshing out of the rest of Kisumai and cameos with Ebi, but then the mirrors happened. Oh well, will just have to write more fic about this verse someday :D??
♦♦♦
“One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight,” Senga counted, going through the altered choreography in half-time and giving the team a better idea of what he’d changed. They had two more days before their next gig, but it wasn’t unusual for Senga to make last minute changes. He liked them (“Keeps us fresh, yo!”) and he occasionally referred to the team as his guinea pigs.
“Together now!”
From the far left, Tamamori made a disgruntled noise, displeased at being rushed. At his side, Miyata smiled, both enthusiastic and anxious and already dripping with sweat. Yokoo looked pained, but determined, and Fujigaya was laughing, as he always was.
Kitayama paid them no mind as he ran through the new routine. It’d take another ten minutes before they’d get into a groove, but that’s how TokyoSkater2 worked. They’d be fine. Despite what Kitayama thought was a ridiculous name (he had argued that nobody in their right mind would read the 2 as a Z, but everyone had loved the idea and thus the name had stuck), they were making progress.
As it was, Tamamori only tripped once through the entire thing, but then Nikaido managed to trod on Fujigaya’s foot, sending him into a caterwaul.
“Fuck, watch where you’re going!”
“I was watching where I was going,” Nikaido said indignantly, “Your fucking foot was in the way!”
“You’re right up my ass, Nikaido, for crying out loud-“
“You wish I was up your ass!”
This was just as normal as Senga’s habit of altering choreography. Nikaido could be a little snot when he wanted to be, but Fujigaya was the real hot-head, quick to anger and slow to cool down once he got started. Kitayama let them carry on for a moment, before kicking Fujigaya’s rear. “Stop wasting air,” he told them both and then shifted Nikaido two feet over in hopes of avoiding a repeat.
“Fuck you,” Fujigaya snarled, turning to lash out at Kitayama instead, but Kitayama didn’t flinch away. He knew better than to give to Fujigaya’s tantrums. While being one of the oldest members on their dance team, Fujigaya was the trickiest to handle. One could never tell if he’s having a good or bad day until one breathed the wrong air and Fujigaya snapped from sweet to abrasive in an instant.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Kitayama repeated, in a precise, controlled voice, “Stop wasting air. We’re not here to screw around.”
Fujigaya bristled, even snapped his mouth open for some scathing reply, but Yokoo stepped forward to check him and he was distracted enough that they all return to the mirrors.
“So! After that, we’ll go into dance solos,” Senga said, blissfully unaware of the Look of Death Fujigaya was sending his way. “Four counts and then we go back to how it we usually do it until the end!”
It was going to be a long rehearsal.
~
Fujigaya fascinated Kitayama in a way he didn’t really understand. On the surface, Fujigaya annoyed him. Fujigaya was inconsistent, hot-tempered, vain, and loud. He was constantly entering any conversation he could, and when he had his bad days he was not at all above making those around him just as miserable. He couldn’t ever seem to keep himself in emotional check and yet his pride (foolish pride, Kitayama would always think) made him act as if he could.
Normally Kitayama would simply leave what couldn’t change alone, because he saw no point in battling for a lost cause. But for the team, for the seven of them all, he found himself standing firm, not backing down to Fujigaya’s wrath or catering to his whimsical nature, because he knew from experience that everyone else would.
He liked the dance team. TokyoSkater2 had started out as a ragtag bunch in the back-lot behind Kitayama’s high-school, back when everyone was restless and passionate with no direction. Ironically it was Senga, the kid still in junior high, who had brought them together, but Kitayama couldn’t imagine life without TokyoSkater2 anymore and it was a funny thing because he had gone through high school not really associating with any of them, though they had all been in the same school. Miyata, Tamamori, and Nikaido had simply been too young, the odd-ball freshmen. Yokoo had been in his year, but they hadn’t really ever known each other beyond faces and vague names. And there had been Fujigaya, but everyone had known Fujigaya.
It all came full circle to Fujigaya. It had been Fujigaya, bored and insatiable Fujigaya, who had called over the fence at the little middle-schooler dancing. Kitayama had been out back for a smoke, and the rest had simply drifted over. Kitayama would never have thought such an arbitrary meeting would have resulted in what they were now, but fate was funny like that.
There were times that he wanted to curse Fujigaya out for making all the pieces fall into place, but today wasn’t one of those days. Today Fujigaya was happy, radiant even. He threw himself into the dance, laughed off every mistake made, and was all the more determined when they started again.
He was such a fickle thing, Kitayama thought with amusement. Fickle, but so lively. It was his charm, to be quite honest. Whether happy or foul, Fujigaya was vibrant. It was something Kitayama envied of the other, for his own anger flashed ugly, but he’d never admit that aloud.
“Let’s run through it one more time,” Senga called out, and everyone shuffled into formation. It wasn’t until Fujigaya caught his eye in the mirror, grinning and winking, that Kitayama realized he had been caught staring.
But for all that he looked away, tried to ignore all the most flaunting smiles that Fujigaya sent his way, Kitayama couldn’t quite take his mind off the guy.
~
“Hey, KitaMitsu,” Fujigaya said, meandering over to where Kitayama was sprawled on the floor, nudging him with a foot. “Can you stay afterwards for a bit? Since Senga threw in more dance solos, I was hoping you could help me figure out my section.”
Kitayama stared up at him blankly, distracted by the drop of sweat tracking down Fujigaya’s neck, but not so distracted that he didn’t feel confused. While Fujigaya was easily the most popular member of TokyoSkater2, he was hardly one of the best on their team. His dance solos were the majority of their fanservice and involved a lot of Fujigaya being on his knees, doing obscene things with his hips.
“Come again?”
“You, me, choreography?” Fujigaya raised an eyebrow in amusement and gestured to the room at large. “Kento’s got some family think going on, and it’s not like I really want to ask, you know, Miyacchi.”
Kitayama could see the logic in that. Miyata’s favorite dances were the wotagei and the Macarena.
“Fine,” he said, closing his eyes to recover as everyone filtered out of the studio. Soon, he could hear Fujigaya’s sneakers squeaking across the floor and nothing else, as they were finally alone. He dragged himself upright, quirking a curious smile Fujigaya’s way. “So what are you looking for?”
Fifteen minutes later, Kitayama realized that he probably had made a huge mistake, helping Fujigaya out. Their styles vastly differed - Fujigaya was the seductive crowd-pleaser and Kitayama was what Senga liked to call ‘raw’ - and the mix of the two was more than Kitayama had bargained for.
“Okay, run through it, I want to watch and see how it looks,” he told Fujigaya, moving to the back of the room so he could keep an eye on Fujigaya as well as the mirrors.
He watched as Fujigaya dropped to his knees, hands slapping against the wooden floor, and Kitayama watched as Fujigaya wore aggression like a charm, eyes flicking to how attractive Fujigaya’s hands were in fingerless gloves to the roll of his hips and the way his tongue flicked over his lips.
There wasn’t much unattractive about Fujigaya, Kitayama admitted. It had to be unconscious, there was no way Fujigaya could exude such attraction on purpose, but there was just this air about him that sucked you in and didn’t let you go.
Kitayama didn’t realize how badly he had it until Fujigaya was right there in front of him, eyes lit with challenge and promise as he was suddenly too close and not yet close enough.
Fujigaya so thoroughly invaded all of his senses that Kitayama took an involuntary step back, and then another one when Fujigaya tried to close the gap again. It was a bad idea, a horrible one really, and yet he still wanted to reach out and pull Fujigaya just a little closer. How it would taste to kiss that mouth, he suddenly wanted to know. What it’d feel like to have Fujigaya’s bare skin against him.
“This isn’t what we’re here for,” he said, which wasn’t really a refusal at all, and Fujigaya knew it.
“Then dance with me,” Fujigaya invited quietly before leaning in, catching Kitayama’s mouth up in a kiss.
It was all that Kitayama imagined it to be (and he’s thought about it on more than one occasion, everyone did, it was Fujigaya). The start was soft, sweet, and curious, but slowly built into something more feeling and heated, Fujigaya matching his mouth perfectly against Kitayama’s.
Before he knows it, Kitayama has his arms sliding around Fujigaya’s waist, pulling him flush against him, throwing care to the wind as he responded in kind to the kisses. It’s wonderful, being able to feel every little shudder and gasp.
They pull back a moment later, but Fujigaya doesn’t move away, just grinning right against Kitayama’s lips in merriment. “I thought this wasn’t what we were here for.”
Snorting, Kitayama steals a kiss, out of pretended spite. “I guess we’ll have to fix that,” he said, low, rasping. Now that they were here, with Fujigaya so close on his skin, all sorts of ideas were flashing through his mind, going back to how he was always been watching Fujigaya through the mirrors and it felt like such a good idea.
Turning Fujigaya around, Kitayama pulled him back until he was flush against him, smoothing his hands down Fujigaya’s hips as he mouthed at his neck. “Dance with me.”
Fujigaya’s eyes flashed with surprise, but he also laughed breathlessly, reaching back to hook his hands behinds Kitayama’s neck, “Alright.”
They swayed to the music and it looked like Kitayama had always imagined it to be and it felt better. Fujigaya was fluid, sensual, enticing, and he fit so perfectly against Kitayama that he was already half hard. He hadn’t thought he would like it so much, being so close there was no room to breathe, just to feel Fujigaya moving against him like this.
The view was great too, the way Fujigaya’s eyes darkened as Kitayama watched their reflections, the way their bodies moved. Kitayama really didn’t think much of Fujigaya’s dancing skills, but his ability to move his hips was a cut above the rest and he took the time to appreciate it now, slipping a hand under Fujigaya’s shirt and thumbing at Fujigaya’s hipbone. The other hand worked around Fujigaya’s shirt, unbuttoning it and watching it slide off the other’s shoulders to reveal an expanse of tanned, smooth skin that Kitayama couldn’t help running his lips over.
It was soon so hard to control himself when Fujigaya rolled his hips, grinding back into Kitayama’s groin, and then Kitayama saw Fujigaya grinning in amusement at how hard Kitayama was already.
Their eyes met in the mirror and it was all the permission Kitayama needed to work his hands down, pushing Fujigaya’s sweatpants and underwear out of the way before wrapping a hand around Fujigaya’s hardening cock.
The sigh of satisfaction from Fujigaya as he settled against Kitayama’s chest made Kitayama smile as he stroked, flicking his wrist experimentally, trying to find the right rhythm to get Fujigaya to melt completely.
“Here,” Fujigaya said, unhooking one of his hands. Kitayama thought he was going to swat him away, but then Fujigaya simply covered his hand with his own. “Like this.”
Fujigaya’s movements over his own were sloppy, but effective and when Fujigaya let out a moan of pleasure, Kitayama just stared in the mirror to capture the moment. Fujigaya bit on his lower lip, even as he grinned at Kitayama and jerked himself off. “Creeper.”
To that, Kitayama nipped at his neck in warning. “Remember just where my hands are.”
With laughter puffing from him, Fujigaya twisted to kiss Kitayama despite all the awkward angles. “You wouldn’t. I know where you sleep, shortie.”
This time Kitayama simply stills his hands, fingers still wrapped around Fujigaya’s cock but refusing to move an inch even when Fujigaya tries to urge him on. “Told you.”
“You’re an ass,” Fujigaya complained and Kitayama suspected he probably would have stomped on Kitayama’s foot if incurring the wrath of the rest of the team on top of not getting off wasn’t such a legitimate threat. Funny enough, it was almost as if Fujigaya was starting to get flustered now that they’d stopped, where nothing was happening except for Kitayama’s glances dragging up and down his half-naked reflection. Shifting, Fujigaya seemed unsure of what to do with himself, before glancing over his shoulder with red cheeks and an irate frown. “Come on, geez, Kitayama.”
Though he almost wanted to hold out a bit longer, just to see Fujigaya squirm, Kitayama relented, stroking Fujigaya’s cock again, thumbing at the slit and occasionally brushing his fingertips down to play with Fujigaya’s ballsack. It was more interesting doing this while watching the mirrors, and Kitayama wasn’t even sure why. He just knew it was turning him on a lot.
“I didn’t think you’d be into this sort of thing,” Fujigaya gasped.
“I didn’t either,” Kitayama admitted, before giving Fujigaya’s cock a more firm stroke, moving to nip and lick along Fujigaya’s neck as well.
As if he’d instantly forgot Kitayama’s teasing, Fujigaya arched with a hiss that melted into a moan, hips bucking up into Kitayama’s hand, encouraging him with his hips and a soft stream of gasps and half-formed sentences.
It was arousing and completely obscene, but there was also something almost beautiful about the line of Fujigaya’s hips, the way his hair fell into his eyes all unkempt, and the way his eyes flickered when their gazes met in the mirror again.
“Close,” Fujigaya managed, and Kitayama only strokes him a few more times before Fujigaya came hot and sticky all over his hand. He worked Fujigaya through his orgasm, teasing every noise he could out of him, before pulling his hand away, giving Fujigaya a moment to collect himself a bit.
“You’re noisy, Taipi~,” he murmured in amusement and Fujigaya snorted, turning to lick at Kitayama’s fingers, cleaning them thoroughly. Kitayama felt another kick of arousal, his need more voracious now that Fuigaya’s had been satisfied.
As if reading his thoughts, Fujigaya smirked, turning fully so he could face Kitayama. “I can give you something else to watch,” he said, licking his lips and palming at Kitayama’s erection, before dropping to his knees.
~
“What do you mean, in here?” Yokoo demanded in a hushed and horrified voice. Kitayama couldn’t see from where he was, sprawled in the back and pretending to sleep while it was their only break for this rehearsal, but he can imagine how green Yokoo must look now. “Taisuke, what the fuck!”
He could hear Fujigaya laughing at Yokoo’s expense. “I didn’t think it’d actually happen like that, Watta, come on. I thought I’d just get him to, you know, ask me out. Or at least take me home or something.”
“You cleaned everything up properly, right?” Yokoo asked, worry piling on top of everything else in his voice.
“We mopped and everything,” Fujigaya said in amusement, which was also a blatant lie. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again, even if he does seem to have some weird fetish with-“
“Stop! I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Taipi, especially not after you dated Fumito.”
They continued to half-bicker and laugh, and Kitayama grinned, shifting so his head was more cushioned in the crook of his arm. With his free arm, he tapped out a quick message on his phone.
[So about that date. Unless, of course, my fetishes are too weird for you.]
In a way, he couldn’t believe he was the one to give in, when he had prided himself for being able to resist Fujigaya. But while he couldn’t seem to help himself, it didn’t seem so bad this way either. There were a lot of maybes when it came to Fujigaya and maybe things would be just fine.
He heard Fujigaya chuckle a moment later, and then a message came in.
[You wish. I want to go see Resident Evil.]
♦♦♦
Kisumai - Kitayama/Fujigaya
2,816 words, R/NC-17, Dance Team AU
Kitayama's always prided himself for being the one unswayed by Fujigaya, but he isn't standing quite as firm as he thought.
For ryogrande for je_philippines's fundraiser. Thank you so much for being patient with me and I hope you enjoy!
(This was totally supposed to have a bit more plot with fleshing out of the rest of Kisumai and cameos with Ebi, but then the mirrors happened. Oh well, will just have to write more fic about this verse someday :D??
♦♦♦
“One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight,” Senga counted, going through the altered choreography in half-time and giving the team a better idea of what he’d changed. They had two more days before their next gig, but it wasn’t unusual for Senga to make last minute changes. He liked them (“Keeps us fresh, yo!”) and he occasionally referred to the team as his guinea pigs.
“Together now!”
From the far left, Tamamori made a disgruntled noise, displeased at being rushed. At his side, Miyata smiled, both enthusiastic and anxious and already dripping with sweat. Yokoo looked pained, but determined, and Fujigaya was laughing, as he always was.
Kitayama paid them no mind as he ran through the new routine. It’d take another ten minutes before they’d get into a groove, but that’s how TokyoSkater2 worked. They’d be fine. Despite what Kitayama thought was a ridiculous name (he had argued that nobody in their right mind would read the 2 as a Z, but everyone had loved the idea and thus the name had stuck), they were making progress.
As it was, Tamamori only tripped once through the entire thing, but then Nikaido managed to trod on Fujigaya’s foot, sending him into a caterwaul.
“Fuck, watch where you’re going!”
“I was watching where I was going,” Nikaido said indignantly, “Your fucking foot was in the way!”
“You’re right up my ass, Nikaido, for crying out loud-“
“You wish I was up your ass!”
This was just as normal as Senga’s habit of altering choreography. Nikaido could be a little snot when he wanted to be, but Fujigaya was the real hot-head, quick to anger and slow to cool down once he got started. Kitayama let them carry on for a moment, before kicking Fujigaya’s rear. “Stop wasting air,” he told them both and then shifted Nikaido two feet over in hopes of avoiding a repeat.
“Fuck you,” Fujigaya snarled, turning to lash out at Kitayama instead, but Kitayama didn’t flinch away. He knew better than to give to Fujigaya’s tantrums. While being one of the oldest members on their dance team, Fujigaya was the trickiest to handle. One could never tell if he’s having a good or bad day until one breathed the wrong air and Fujigaya snapped from sweet to abrasive in an instant.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Kitayama repeated, in a precise, controlled voice, “Stop wasting air. We’re not here to screw around.”
Fujigaya bristled, even snapped his mouth open for some scathing reply, but Yokoo stepped forward to check him and he was distracted enough that they all return to the mirrors.
“So! After that, we’ll go into dance solos,” Senga said, blissfully unaware of the Look of Death Fujigaya was sending his way. “Four counts and then we go back to how it we usually do it until the end!”
It was going to be a long rehearsal.
~
Fujigaya fascinated Kitayama in a way he didn’t really understand. On the surface, Fujigaya annoyed him. Fujigaya was inconsistent, hot-tempered, vain, and loud. He was constantly entering any conversation he could, and when he had his bad days he was not at all above making those around him just as miserable. He couldn’t ever seem to keep himself in emotional check and yet his pride (foolish pride, Kitayama would always think) made him act as if he could.
Normally Kitayama would simply leave what couldn’t change alone, because he saw no point in battling for a lost cause. But for the team, for the seven of them all, he found himself standing firm, not backing down to Fujigaya’s wrath or catering to his whimsical nature, because he knew from experience that everyone else would.
He liked the dance team. TokyoSkater2 had started out as a ragtag bunch in the back-lot behind Kitayama’s high-school, back when everyone was restless and passionate with no direction. Ironically it was Senga, the kid still in junior high, who had brought them together, but Kitayama couldn’t imagine life without TokyoSkater2 anymore and it was a funny thing because he had gone through high school not really associating with any of them, though they had all been in the same school. Miyata, Tamamori, and Nikaido had simply been too young, the odd-ball freshmen. Yokoo had been in his year, but they hadn’t really ever known each other beyond faces and vague names. And there had been Fujigaya, but everyone had known Fujigaya.
It all came full circle to Fujigaya. It had been Fujigaya, bored and insatiable Fujigaya, who had called over the fence at the little middle-schooler dancing. Kitayama had been out back for a smoke, and the rest had simply drifted over. Kitayama would never have thought such an arbitrary meeting would have resulted in what they were now, but fate was funny like that.
There were times that he wanted to curse Fujigaya out for making all the pieces fall into place, but today wasn’t one of those days. Today Fujigaya was happy, radiant even. He threw himself into the dance, laughed off every mistake made, and was all the more determined when they started again.
He was such a fickle thing, Kitayama thought with amusement. Fickle, but so lively. It was his charm, to be quite honest. Whether happy or foul, Fujigaya was vibrant. It was something Kitayama envied of the other, for his own anger flashed ugly, but he’d never admit that aloud.
“Let’s run through it one more time,” Senga called out, and everyone shuffled into formation. It wasn’t until Fujigaya caught his eye in the mirror, grinning and winking, that Kitayama realized he had been caught staring.
But for all that he looked away, tried to ignore all the most flaunting smiles that Fujigaya sent his way, Kitayama couldn’t quite take his mind off the guy.
~
“Hey, KitaMitsu,” Fujigaya said, meandering over to where Kitayama was sprawled on the floor, nudging him with a foot. “Can you stay afterwards for a bit? Since Senga threw in more dance solos, I was hoping you could help me figure out my section.”
Kitayama stared up at him blankly, distracted by the drop of sweat tracking down Fujigaya’s neck, but not so distracted that he didn’t feel confused. While Fujigaya was easily the most popular member of TokyoSkater2, he was hardly one of the best on their team. His dance solos were the majority of their fanservice and involved a lot of Fujigaya being on his knees, doing obscene things with his hips.
“Come again?”
“You, me, choreography?” Fujigaya raised an eyebrow in amusement and gestured to the room at large. “Kento’s got some family think going on, and it’s not like I really want to ask, you know, Miyacchi.”
Kitayama could see the logic in that. Miyata’s favorite dances were the wotagei and the Macarena.
“Fine,” he said, closing his eyes to recover as everyone filtered out of the studio. Soon, he could hear Fujigaya’s sneakers squeaking across the floor and nothing else, as they were finally alone. He dragged himself upright, quirking a curious smile Fujigaya’s way. “So what are you looking for?”
Fifteen minutes later, Kitayama realized that he probably had made a huge mistake, helping Fujigaya out. Their styles vastly differed - Fujigaya was the seductive crowd-pleaser and Kitayama was what Senga liked to call ‘raw’ - and the mix of the two was more than Kitayama had bargained for.
“Okay, run through it, I want to watch and see how it looks,” he told Fujigaya, moving to the back of the room so he could keep an eye on Fujigaya as well as the mirrors.
He watched as Fujigaya dropped to his knees, hands slapping against the wooden floor, and Kitayama watched as Fujigaya wore aggression like a charm, eyes flicking to how attractive Fujigaya’s hands were in fingerless gloves to the roll of his hips and the way his tongue flicked over his lips.
There wasn’t much unattractive about Fujigaya, Kitayama admitted. It had to be unconscious, there was no way Fujigaya could exude such attraction on purpose, but there was just this air about him that sucked you in and didn’t let you go.
Kitayama didn’t realize how badly he had it until Fujigaya was right there in front of him, eyes lit with challenge and promise as he was suddenly too close and not yet close enough.
Fujigaya so thoroughly invaded all of his senses that Kitayama took an involuntary step back, and then another one when Fujigaya tried to close the gap again. It was a bad idea, a horrible one really, and yet he still wanted to reach out and pull Fujigaya just a little closer. How it would taste to kiss that mouth, he suddenly wanted to know. What it’d feel like to have Fujigaya’s bare skin against him.
“This isn’t what we’re here for,” he said, which wasn’t really a refusal at all, and Fujigaya knew it.
“Then dance with me,” Fujigaya invited quietly before leaning in, catching Kitayama’s mouth up in a kiss.
It was all that Kitayama imagined it to be (and he’s thought about it on more than one occasion, everyone did, it was Fujigaya). The start was soft, sweet, and curious, but slowly built into something more feeling and heated, Fujigaya matching his mouth perfectly against Kitayama’s.
Before he knows it, Kitayama has his arms sliding around Fujigaya’s waist, pulling him flush against him, throwing care to the wind as he responded in kind to the kisses. It’s wonderful, being able to feel every little shudder and gasp.
They pull back a moment later, but Fujigaya doesn’t move away, just grinning right against Kitayama’s lips in merriment. “I thought this wasn’t what we were here for.”
Snorting, Kitayama steals a kiss, out of pretended spite. “I guess we’ll have to fix that,” he said, low, rasping. Now that they were here, with Fujigaya so close on his skin, all sorts of ideas were flashing through his mind, going back to how he was always been watching Fujigaya through the mirrors and it felt like such a good idea.
Turning Fujigaya around, Kitayama pulled him back until he was flush against him, smoothing his hands down Fujigaya’s hips as he mouthed at his neck. “Dance with me.”
Fujigaya’s eyes flashed with surprise, but he also laughed breathlessly, reaching back to hook his hands behinds Kitayama’s neck, “Alright.”
They swayed to the music and it looked like Kitayama had always imagined it to be and it felt better. Fujigaya was fluid, sensual, enticing, and he fit so perfectly against Kitayama that he was already half hard. He hadn’t thought he would like it so much, being so close there was no room to breathe, just to feel Fujigaya moving against him like this.
The view was great too, the way Fujigaya’s eyes darkened as Kitayama watched their reflections, the way their bodies moved. Kitayama really didn’t think much of Fujigaya’s dancing skills, but his ability to move his hips was a cut above the rest and he took the time to appreciate it now, slipping a hand under Fujigaya’s shirt and thumbing at Fujigaya’s hipbone. The other hand worked around Fujigaya’s shirt, unbuttoning it and watching it slide off the other’s shoulders to reveal an expanse of tanned, smooth skin that Kitayama couldn’t help running his lips over.
It was soon so hard to control himself when Fujigaya rolled his hips, grinding back into Kitayama’s groin, and then Kitayama saw Fujigaya grinning in amusement at how hard Kitayama was already.
Their eyes met in the mirror and it was all the permission Kitayama needed to work his hands down, pushing Fujigaya’s sweatpants and underwear out of the way before wrapping a hand around Fujigaya’s hardening cock.
The sigh of satisfaction from Fujigaya as he settled against Kitayama’s chest made Kitayama smile as he stroked, flicking his wrist experimentally, trying to find the right rhythm to get Fujigaya to melt completely.
“Here,” Fujigaya said, unhooking one of his hands. Kitayama thought he was going to swat him away, but then Fujigaya simply covered his hand with his own. “Like this.”
Fujigaya’s movements over his own were sloppy, but effective and when Fujigaya let out a moan of pleasure, Kitayama just stared in the mirror to capture the moment. Fujigaya bit on his lower lip, even as he grinned at Kitayama and jerked himself off. “Creeper.”
To that, Kitayama nipped at his neck in warning. “Remember just where my hands are.”
With laughter puffing from him, Fujigaya twisted to kiss Kitayama despite all the awkward angles. “You wouldn’t. I know where you sleep, shortie.”
This time Kitayama simply stills his hands, fingers still wrapped around Fujigaya’s cock but refusing to move an inch even when Fujigaya tries to urge him on. “Told you.”
“You’re an ass,” Fujigaya complained and Kitayama suspected he probably would have stomped on Kitayama’s foot if incurring the wrath of the rest of the team on top of not getting off wasn’t such a legitimate threat. Funny enough, it was almost as if Fujigaya was starting to get flustered now that they’d stopped, where nothing was happening except for Kitayama’s glances dragging up and down his half-naked reflection. Shifting, Fujigaya seemed unsure of what to do with himself, before glancing over his shoulder with red cheeks and an irate frown. “Come on, geez, Kitayama.”
Though he almost wanted to hold out a bit longer, just to see Fujigaya squirm, Kitayama relented, stroking Fujigaya’s cock again, thumbing at the slit and occasionally brushing his fingertips down to play with Fujigaya’s ballsack. It was more interesting doing this while watching the mirrors, and Kitayama wasn’t even sure why. He just knew it was turning him on a lot.
“I didn’t think you’d be into this sort of thing,” Fujigaya gasped.
“I didn’t either,” Kitayama admitted, before giving Fujigaya’s cock a more firm stroke, moving to nip and lick along Fujigaya’s neck as well.
As if he’d instantly forgot Kitayama’s teasing, Fujigaya arched with a hiss that melted into a moan, hips bucking up into Kitayama’s hand, encouraging him with his hips and a soft stream of gasps and half-formed sentences.
It was arousing and completely obscene, but there was also something almost beautiful about the line of Fujigaya’s hips, the way his hair fell into his eyes all unkempt, and the way his eyes flickered when their gazes met in the mirror again.
“Close,” Fujigaya managed, and Kitayama only strokes him a few more times before Fujigaya came hot and sticky all over his hand. He worked Fujigaya through his orgasm, teasing every noise he could out of him, before pulling his hand away, giving Fujigaya a moment to collect himself a bit.
“You’re noisy, Taipi~,” he murmured in amusement and Fujigaya snorted, turning to lick at Kitayama’s fingers, cleaning them thoroughly. Kitayama felt another kick of arousal, his need more voracious now that Fuigaya’s had been satisfied.
As if reading his thoughts, Fujigaya smirked, turning fully so he could face Kitayama. “I can give you something else to watch,” he said, licking his lips and palming at Kitayama’s erection, before dropping to his knees.
~
“What do you mean, in here?” Yokoo demanded in a hushed and horrified voice. Kitayama couldn’t see from where he was, sprawled in the back and pretending to sleep while it was their only break for this rehearsal, but he can imagine how green Yokoo must look now. “Taisuke, what the fuck!”
He could hear Fujigaya laughing at Yokoo’s expense. “I didn’t think it’d actually happen like that, Watta, come on. I thought I’d just get him to, you know, ask me out. Or at least take me home or something.”
“You cleaned everything up properly, right?” Yokoo asked, worry piling on top of everything else in his voice.
“We mopped and everything,” Fujigaya said in amusement, which was also a blatant lie. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again, even if he does seem to have some weird fetish with-“
“Stop! I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Taipi, especially not after you dated Fumito.”
They continued to half-bicker and laugh, and Kitayama grinned, shifting so his head was more cushioned in the crook of his arm. With his free arm, he tapped out a quick message on his phone.
[So about that date. Unless, of course, my fetishes are too weird for you.]
In a way, he couldn’t believe he was the one to give in, when he had prided himself for being able to resist Fujigaya. But while he couldn’t seem to help himself, it didn’t seem so bad this way either. There were a lot of maybes when it came to Fujigaya and maybe things would be just fine.
He heard Fujigaya chuckle a moment later, and then a message came in.
[You wish. I want to go see Resident Evil.]
♦♦♦