Liar baby
Liar baby
Koyama/Fujigaya (NEWS/Kis-My-Ft2)
pwp, 2962 words, NC-17. Prostitution
Fujigaya is an expensive prostitute, Koyama is a frequent customer.
On his knees in front of the bed, between Koyama's legs, is Fujigaya, eagerly parting his lips to take the head of his cock between his lips. He has been hard since he watched Fujigaya dance on the small stage in the club, something he usually does before he asks for him. The dancing itself is hot, especially when he's up there with the shorter, slightly more muscular man, when they interact, stroke along each other's bodies, yet still refuse to look at each other. But the hottest part is when Fujigaya glances out over the audience through the fringe that tends to fall into his face when he moves, when he spots Koyama in the crowd, and locks their eyes as he rolls his hips. It never lasts more than a couple seconds, but it has Koyama's blood rushing downwards every time; it's like Fujigaya chooses him and not the other way around.
And now he's there, full lips sliding down Koyama's erection, slurping around it and the sound itself is so erotic it's ridiculous. It always is. Fujigaya gives fantastic blowjobs, knows exactly how to work a man; Koyama tries to keep his mind off how much he must have practiced, even though he knows it's not something he should be thinking of. The only thing that really matters right now is Fujigaya's tongue along his sensitive skin, how he sucks as he takes the length further in. Without asking for permission Koyama puts his hand on his head, threads it between his fingers, and Fujigaya moans, attempting to lean into the touch but keeps focusing on the task he has been given. Of course Koyama doesn't need permission at all; he's paying, and he knows Fujigaya will let him do close to anything. He could fuck his mouth if he wanted to, he has done so before, but he enjoys it more when he makes him do the work, when he can play around at the same time.
He never knows if the moans Fujigaya gives are real, but it doesn't really matter; in fact he assumes that the sounds he makes when he sucks are just for show. Fake or not, it's hot to hear him, especially when he's so eager, when he looks all needy as he opens up as wide as he can.
Then again, perhaps he is a little needy. His shoulder is hot when Koyama pushes the kimono aside to access it; he knows he's a little turned on, that he has been since before he entered the room where Koyama had been waiting. That's another thing he loves about Fujigaya and the place he's working for. Koyama pays, and Koyama gets to decide everything. He often chooses a kimono for him, the pink and purple one that suits him so well, that makes him look so dirty when it's halfway off. It slides off one of his shoulders, fully reveals his collar bone, and Koyama can't keep from stroking fingers along it. The touch doesn't stop Fujigaya, who keeps his work up, lips stretched and throat relaxed as he takes the erection all the way it.
Koyama groans with no inhibitions, puts his hand back in Fujigaya's brown strands of hair, but still lets him move as he wants to. He's moaning again, a muffled moan since his mouth is filled, but it vibrates through Koyama's cock, and that's enough. Koyama pushes him back, holds his breath when Fujigaya switches to look up at him while his tongue runs over lips that are one shade darker than they were when he first entered the room.
“Up.” Fujigaya understands the simple command without further explanation; Koyama is there more often than he perhaps should. He excuses himself with something similar to an addiction, knows that he will never have as good sex with anyone else as he does with Fujigaya.
That's why pays, why he keeps paying. Because Koyama knows that there's no one like Fujigaya. No one that looks so good when he falls back onto the bed, kimono loose around his shoulders and hair just slightly messy as he lets his head rest against the mattress, and Koyama crawls on top of him, leans down to let their lips touch. Fujigaya kisses like he dances, hot and passionate, is a master at faking chemistry, although in this case, Koyama likes to think that they're a little compatible, at least sexually. But then again, Fujigaya is just doing his job, and making it seem like that to Koyama might just be another of his acts.
He must be genuinely aroused, though, because he hasn't touched himself, nor has Koyama, yet when he brushes a hand against his crotch, he finds him hard. As he pulls away from the kiss he pulls on the obi, just loosening it, then it's easy to part the kimono further at his chest; Koyama pauses to look at him for a moment, before he continues at his legs. He starts by one ankle, strokes along smooth skin up to his knees. Koyama usually requests for Fujigaya to have his legs waxed; if no other regular customer disagrees his request goes through. Looks like no one minds him without leg hair.
The kimono starts parting when he goes above the knee, up his just as smooth thigh. He easily guides it to fall to the side, and Fujigaya helps when the touch travels further up, spreads his legs like he knows he's expected to. Koyama's lips form a smug smile when Fujigaya's cock is revealed, even harder than he had thought it would be. He teases with a featherlight touch, but only to his balls; it has Fujigaya squirming, a very audible whine escaping him, but that's all. His fingers stay there, playing around the base of his cock where he still has hair, only short trimmed, the way Koyama likes it. It's not one of his requests, though, it has always been like that. No need to change it.
When he changes his focus to Fujigaya's face he finds him with eyes closed, then sees his tense arms that draw attention to hands holding on to the sheets, as if trying to keep himself under control. All that's moving is his hips, and it's just the slightest, but then his legs part further, and Koyama assumes he wants him to get on with it.
There's no convincing to be done; Koyama leans over Fujigaya for the lube that's on the headboard; a low one that doubles as a table. He grabs a condom package while at it, then stops momentarily when a hand wraps around his still saliva-moist cock, followed by plush lips against his chest, just below his collar bones because it's the only part Fujigaya can get to without unbuttoning the next button on Koyama's shirt. After dropping both the small bottle and the condom package on the bed he brings his own hands to the buttons, does quick work of them before he pulls it off himself.
He thinks Fujigaya likes muscles, or maybe it's just a hopeful wish. Although he will never know, he assumes that's what it is when Fujigaya slowly strokes along his shoulder, to his upper arm, leaves the hand on it while his other settles on Koyama's waist. This time he has eye contact, and if that lustful gaze is fake as well, then Fujigaya is a really good liar. For all he knows, Koyama would say he's really turned on and waiting for it, but again, it's his job. To be hot and seductive, to look as fuckable as he possibly can.
As if to make him hurry up Fujigaya tries to reach for the condom, and Koyama hands it to him at the same time as he bends down to kiss him again. His lips are so hot, his tongue slick and eager when it meets Koyama's, and for a moment Koyama gets so lost in the kiss that he forgets everything about getting inside him anytime soon. Then there's a touch to his cock again and he pulls back, lingers a little to let his eyes wander over Fujigaya's face, from his hooded eyes to where he bites his lower lip softly while he waits. Just looking at him is satisfying, he finds himself thinking, but then Fujigaya starts tearing the condom package open, gently pushes Koyama back up with a light hand on his chest. It's Fujigaya rolling the condom onto him; he has remembered what Koyama likes, that most of the time he prefers to not to do a lot of the work, and when he wants to do it, he lets Fujigaya know.
Tonight he doesn't want to work. Tonight he wants to fuck, without having to wait more than he feels is necessary. Which is why Fujigaya only falls back onto the bed, spreads his legs enough that Koyama sees his hole, pink and stretched already, and all Koyama does is add some lube to it, then to his length, before he scoots close enough that the head of his cock is rubbing against Fujigaya. He enjoys the view for a couple seconds; Fujigaya's flushed skin, the wanton look in his eyes, his thin upper body, ribs almost visible when he breathes in, his cock twitching when Koyama threatens to push past the muscles into him. Whether he's actually attracted to Koyama or not is even less of a big deal now. He's turned on, he wants it, and he's going to get it.
He pushes inside in one long, swift motion, relishes the moan Fujigaya lets out as much as he does the warmth wrapping around him. Even if it's sometimes so worth it to prepare Fujigaya himself, have him loosen around his fingers, or watching him prepare on his own, he never ever regrets asking to have him prepared before he even enters. If Koyama was to be honest, he would have to admit that he fantasizes about that as well, often imagines Fujigaya in a hot shower room, that gorgeous kimono hanging outside it waiting for him, while his dance partner works him open, arm muscles flexing as he thrusts his fingers into Fujigaya. That it's highly unlikely doesn't bother him, he plays with the images anyway, imagines Fujigaya with a hand in the other man's hair, tilting his head up to crush their lips together.
But now that he has Fujigaya right there beneath him, it's not an image that stays for very long; the real thing is better. He's there, hot and tight and gorgeous, kimono still tied loosely around his waist but pushed aside both below and above the obi, exposing his chest above it, hips and down below. The garment is really good for nothing now, but it looks perfect, the dirtiness of it fitting Fujigaya perfectly. Fits a whore, Koyama thinks as he thrusts inside, over and over.
Fujigaya sounds like a whore, too. There's no way all the noises he's making are real, but he's making them anyway, either because he knows Koyama likes them, or because everyone that fucks him likes them. A little exaggerated or not, Koyama can hardly think of anything better to fill his ears with, enjoys how they get just the slightest bit more sudden when he snaps his hips a little faster.
He shouldn't hurry; he has Fujigaya all night, he's going to do him at least once more before morning, but it's hard to hold back when he knows he can do nearly whatever he wants to without being stopped. Fujigaya won't protest no matter how hard he fucks him, no matter how slow he goes with him, if he ties him up or makes him ride, if he doesn't let him come. He will whine about it if it frustrates him, but it's part of the play, part of what turns Koyama on, so it's all good.
It's as though Fujigaya has learned what buttons to push; he keeps a hand on Koyama's waist, the other is back up on his shoulder, and just his touch feels like it makes his skin burns. Then he squeezes, hands tightening on Koyama's skin in time with the sounds he makes, the ones that sound more real, ones that come with the tensing of his abdomen, and it's even hotter that way because it has to mean he likes it.
But more important than Fujigaya's pleasure is Koyama's, visual as well as physical, and while Fujigaya looks stunning on his back with Koyama's cock sliding in and out of him, there's a variety of ways Koyama likes to see him. Numerous times he has gotten off on just watching Fujigaya, making him strip himself of his clothes before Koyama hands him a toy that he, after preparing himself with fingers, uses to fuck himself. He likes him standing in front of the mirror too, when he has to brace himself against it while Koyama pounds into him from behind, likes to tug his head back by his hair and make him look at his own face while he comes.
However, tonight he wants him in perhaps his his favorite position; when he pulls back and leaves Fujigaya empty he can see on his face that he knows what is expected of him. Koyama hasn't even laid down when Fujigaya is pulling the kimono back up on his shoulders, ties the obi a little tighter again, keeps it away from his own leaking cock in order not to stain the silky fabric more than necessary. And when he's back down on the mattress Fujigaya is already straddling him, lays the kimono skirt behind himself before he reaches down between his legs, steadies Koyama's cock against his opening with a light touch. He's beautiful like that, face relaxing when he sinks down, lowers himself onto Koyama, his own erection twitching when he takes him all the way in. It's difficult to not run hands up his thighs, but Koyama restrains himself.
The first time he moves it's like he's testing, trying, but then he rolls his hips for real and Koyama doesn't bother holding back his groan. He's gorgeous and he feels so good inside and he's so damn good at riding. It's the same every time, and then a little more when he has that kimono on, when it slides off his shoulders again as he moves up and down, reveals more of his skin when he starts shifting his hips more urgently.
Koyama is close when he finally puts a hand on Fujigaya's thigh, strokes all the way up to the base of his cock, but doesn't touch it, despite the needy moan he earns for the teasing. He responds with a couple of rough thrusts up into him, then reaches for his hand, puts it around his cock and that's all he needs. Within minutes Fujigaya is coming, spurting white onto Koyama's abs, clenching so tight around him that Koyama has to stop until he relaxes again, at least a little. Still so tight though, and the way he keeps trying to meet the thrusts even when he's spent is what eventually sends Koyama into his own orgasm.
Some days he has Fujigaya lick his come off Koyama's skin, makes him swallow it down; tonight he asks him to clean both of them off with a warm, damp towel. He gets rid of the condom too, throws it away before he crawls back in bed, lets Koyama pull him in for cuddles. Maybe it's strange to want to cuddle the whore he pays for, but he's staying the whole night and until he can go again, he figures might as well enjoy the way Fujigaya snuggles up against his side, leans his head against Koyama's chest while he uses his fingertips to draw little circles on his side, his breathing just as calm as his own. In turn he absentmindedly plays with Fujigaya's hair, doesn't mind that it's not perfectly clean anymore; all he thinks of is that Fujigaya is surprisingly silent tonight.
“Kei,” Fujigaya whispers then, and as always Koyama jerks at hearing part of his first name, even though he is the one that asked him to call him that. Doesn't want a whore disgracing his family name. “Kei, I love you.”
He stills, stops threading fingers through Fujigaya's hair, but doesn't shove his head away from his bare chest. Fujigaya doesn't need to say anything more; Koyama hears the truth behind it, assumes Fujigaya tells everyone that. The tone in his voice reveals that the words are fake, because there's a hint of pain in them. Fujigaya is asking for help, help to get away from there. And his costumers are rich, enough to be able to buy him out of prostitution.
Koyama gets up on his elbows, stirs Fujigaya before he places fingertips under his chin, tilts his head so that he can see the pain instead, much more obvious in his eyes than in his voice.
“No, you don't.” He's calm as he says it, keeps his voice as soft as possible, and next he sees what could be actual heartbreak in Fujigaya's dark brown eyes.
“I do, I really...” he tries, then cuts himself off as he breaks out in tears, hides his face against Koyama's chest as he sobs. He knows Koyama sees right through his lies.
There is no one like Fujigaya, he's certain, no one so gorgeous and talented, even if only in bed, but to Koyama everything is perfect as it is. All he needs is in this club, and it needs to be where it is for it to be convenient for him. Fujigaya needs to stay.
Koyama/Fujigaya (NEWS/Kis-My-Ft2)
pwp, 2962 words, NC-17. Prostitution
Fujigaya is an expensive prostitute, Koyama is a frequent customer.
On his knees in front of the bed, between Koyama's legs, is Fujigaya, eagerly parting his lips to take the head of his cock between his lips. He has been hard since he watched Fujigaya dance on the small stage in the club, something he usually does before he asks for him. The dancing itself is hot, especially when he's up there with the shorter, slightly more muscular man, when they interact, stroke along each other's bodies, yet still refuse to look at each other. But the hottest part is when Fujigaya glances out over the audience through the fringe that tends to fall into his face when he moves, when he spots Koyama in the crowd, and locks their eyes as he rolls his hips. It never lasts more than a couple seconds, but it has Koyama's blood rushing downwards every time; it's like Fujigaya chooses him and not the other way around.
And now he's there, full lips sliding down Koyama's erection, slurping around it and the sound itself is so erotic it's ridiculous. It always is. Fujigaya gives fantastic blowjobs, knows exactly how to work a man; Koyama tries to keep his mind off how much he must have practiced, even though he knows it's not something he should be thinking of. The only thing that really matters right now is Fujigaya's tongue along his sensitive skin, how he sucks as he takes the length further in. Without asking for permission Koyama puts his hand on his head, threads it between his fingers, and Fujigaya moans, attempting to lean into the touch but keeps focusing on the task he has been given. Of course Koyama doesn't need permission at all; he's paying, and he knows Fujigaya will let him do close to anything. He could fuck his mouth if he wanted to, he has done so before, but he enjoys it more when he makes him do the work, when he can play around at the same time.
He never knows if the moans Fujigaya gives are real, but it doesn't really matter; in fact he assumes that the sounds he makes when he sucks are just for show. Fake or not, it's hot to hear him, especially when he's so eager, when he looks all needy as he opens up as wide as he can.
Then again, perhaps he is a little needy. His shoulder is hot when Koyama pushes the kimono aside to access it; he knows he's a little turned on, that he has been since before he entered the room where Koyama had been waiting. That's another thing he loves about Fujigaya and the place he's working for. Koyama pays, and Koyama gets to decide everything. He often chooses a kimono for him, the pink and purple one that suits him so well, that makes him look so dirty when it's halfway off. It slides off one of his shoulders, fully reveals his collar bone, and Koyama can't keep from stroking fingers along it. The touch doesn't stop Fujigaya, who keeps his work up, lips stretched and throat relaxed as he takes the erection all the way it.
Koyama groans with no inhibitions, puts his hand back in Fujigaya's brown strands of hair, but still lets him move as he wants to. He's moaning again, a muffled moan since his mouth is filled, but it vibrates through Koyama's cock, and that's enough. Koyama pushes him back, holds his breath when Fujigaya switches to look up at him while his tongue runs over lips that are one shade darker than they were when he first entered the room.
“Up.” Fujigaya understands the simple command without further explanation; Koyama is there more often than he perhaps should. He excuses himself with something similar to an addiction, knows that he will never have as good sex with anyone else as he does with Fujigaya.
That's why pays, why he keeps paying. Because Koyama knows that there's no one like Fujigaya. No one that looks so good when he falls back onto the bed, kimono loose around his shoulders and hair just slightly messy as he lets his head rest against the mattress, and Koyama crawls on top of him, leans down to let their lips touch. Fujigaya kisses like he dances, hot and passionate, is a master at faking chemistry, although in this case, Koyama likes to think that they're a little compatible, at least sexually. But then again, Fujigaya is just doing his job, and making it seem like that to Koyama might just be another of his acts.
He must be genuinely aroused, though, because he hasn't touched himself, nor has Koyama, yet when he brushes a hand against his crotch, he finds him hard. As he pulls away from the kiss he pulls on the obi, just loosening it, then it's easy to part the kimono further at his chest; Koyama pauses to look at him for a moment, before he continues at his legs. He starts by one ankle, strokes along smooth skin up to his knees. Koyama usually requests for Fujigaya to have his legs waxed; if no other regular customer disagrees his request goes through. Looks like no one minds him without leg hair.
The kimono starts parting when he goes above the knee, up his just as smooth thigh. He easily guides it to fall to the side, and Fujigaya helps when the touch travels further up, spreads his legs like he knows he's expected to. Koyama's lips form a smug smile when Fujigaya's cock is revealed, even harder than he had thought it would be. He teases with a featherlight touch, but only to his balls; it has Fujigaya squirming, a very audible whine escaping him, but that's all. His fingers stay there, playing around the base of his cock where he still has hair, only short trimmed, the way Koyama likes it. It's not one of his requests, though, it has always been like that. No need to change it.
When he changes his focus to Fujigaya's face he finds him with eyes closed, then sees his tense arms that draw attention to hands holding on to the sheets, as if trying to keep himself under control. All that's moving is his hips, and it's just the slightest, but then his legs part further, and Koyama assumes he wants him to get on with it.
There's no convincing to be done; Koyama leans over Fujigaya for the lube that's on the headboard; a low one that doubles as a table. He grabs a condom package while at it, then stops momentarily when a hand wraps around his still saliva-moist cock, followed by plush lips against his chest, just below his collar bones because it's the only part Fujigaya can get to without unbuttoning the next button on Koyama's shirt. After dropping both the small bottle and the condom package on the bed he brings his own hands to the buttons, does quick work of them before he pulls it off himself.
He thinks Fujigaya likes muscles, or maybe it's just a hopeful wish. Although he will never know, he assumes that's what it is when Fujigaya slowly strokes along his shoulder, to his upper arm, leaves the hand on it while his other settles on Koyama's waist. This time he has eye contact, and if that lustful gaze is fake as well, then Fujigaya is a really good liar. For all he knows, Koyama would say he's really turned on and waiting for it, but again, it's his job. To be hot and seductive, to look as fuckable as he possibly can.
As if to make him hurry up Fujigaya tries to reach for the condom, and Koyama hands it to him at the same time as he bends down to kiss him again. His lips are so hot, his tongue slick and eager when it meets Koyama's, and for a moment Koyama gets so lost in the kiss that he forgets everything about getting inside him anytime soon. Then there's a touch to his cock again and he pulls back, lingers a little to let his eyes wander over Fujigaya's face, from his hooded eyes to where he bites his lower lip softly while he waits. Just looking at him is satisfying, he finds himself thinking, but then Fujigaya starts tearing the condom package open, gently pushes Koyama back up with a light hand on his chest. It's Fujigaya rolling the condom onto him; he has remembered what Koyama likes, that most of the time he prefers to not to do a lot of the work, and when he wants to do it, he lets Fujigaya know.
Tonight he doesn't want to work. Tonight he wants to fuck, without having to wait more than he feels is necessary. Which is why Fujigaya only falls back onto the bed, spreads his legs enough that Koyama sees his hole, pink and stretched already, and all Koyama does is add some lube to it, then to his length, before he scoots close enough that the head of his cock is rubbing against Fujigaya. He enjoys the view for a couple seconds; Fujigaya's flushed skin, the wanton look in his eyes, his thin upper body, ribs almost visible when he breathes in, his cock twitching when Koyama threatens to push past the muscles into him. Whether he's actually attracted to Koyama or not is even less of a big deal now. He's turned on, he wants it, and he's going to get it.
He pushes inside in one long, swift motion, relishes the moan Fujigaya lets out as much as he does the warmth wrapping around him. Even if it's sometimes so worth it to prepare Fujigaya himself, have him loosen around his fingers, or watching him prepare on his own, he never ever regrets asking to have him prepared before he even enters. If Koyama was to be honest, he would have to admit that he fantasizes about that as well, often imagines Fujigaya in a hot shower room, that gorgeous kimono hanging outside it waiting for him, while his dance partner works him open, arm muscles flexing as he thrusts his fingers into Fujigaya. That it's highly unlikely doesn't bother him, he plays with the images anyway, imagines Fujigaya with a hand in the other man's hair, tilting his head up to crush their lips together.
But now that he has Fujigaya right there beneath him, it's not an image that stays for very long; the real thing is better. He's there, hot and tight and gorgeous, kimono still tied loosely around his waist but pushed aside both below and above the obi, exposing his chest above it, hips and down below. The garment is really good for nothing now, but it looks perfect, the dirtiness of it fitting Fujigaya perfectly. Fits a whore, Koyama thinks as he thrusts inside, over and over.
Fujigaya sounds like a whore, too. There's no way all the noises he's making are real, but he's making them anyway, either because he knows Koyama likes them, or because everyone that fucks him likes them. A little exaggerated or not, Koyama can hardly think of anything better to fill his ears with, enjoys how they get just the slightest bit more sudden when he snaps his hips a little faster.
He shouldn't hurry; he has Fujigaya all night, he's going to do him at least once more before morning, but it's hard to hold back when he knows he can do nearly whatever he wants to without being stopped. Fujigaya won't protest no matter how hard he fucks him, no matter how slow he goes with him, if he ties him up or makes him ride, if he doesn't let him come. He will whine about it if it frustrates him, but it's part of the play, part of what turns Koyama on, so it's all good.
It's as though Fujigaya has learned what buttons to push; he keeps a hand on Koyama's waist, the other is back up on his shoulder, and just his touch feels like it makes his skin burns. Then he squeezes, hands tightening on Koyama's skin in time with the sounds he makes, the ones that sound more real, ones that come with the tensing of his abdomen, and it's even hotter that way because it has to mean he likes it.
But more important than Fujigaya's pleasure is Koyama's, visual as well as physical, and while Fujigaya looks stunning on his back with Koyama's cock sliding in and out of him, there's a variety of ways Koyama likes to see him. Numerous times he has gotten off on just watching Fujigaya, making him strip himself of his clothes before Koyama hands him a toy that he, after preparing himself with fingers, uses to fuck himself. He likes him standing in front of the mirror too, when he has to brace himself against it while Koyama pounds into him from behind, likes to tug his head back by his hair and make him look at his own face while he comes.
However, tonight he wants him in perhaps his his favorite position; when he pulls back and leaves Fujigaya empty he can see on his face that he knows what is expected of him. Koyama hasn't even laid down when Fujigaya is pulling the kimono back up on his shoulders, ties the obi a little tighter again, keeps it away from his own leaking cock in order not to stain the silky fabric more than necessary. And when he's back down on the mattress Fujigaya is already straddling him, lays the kimono skirt behind himself before he reaches down between his legs, steadies Koyama's cock against his opening with a light touch. He's beautiful like that, face relaxing when he sinks down, lowers himself onto Koyama, his own erection twitching when he takes him all the way in. It's difficult to not run hands up his thighs, but Koyama restrains himself.
The first time he moves it's like he's testing, trying, but then he rolls his hips for real and Koyama doesn't bother holding back his groan. He's gorgeous and he feels so good inside and he's so damn good at riding. It's the same every time, and then a little more when he has that kimono on, when it slides off his shoulders again as he moves up and down, reveals more of his skin when he starts shifting his hips more urgently.
Koyama is close when he finally puts a hand on Fujigaya's thigh, strokes all the way up to the base of his cock, but doesn't touch it, despite the needy moan he earns for the teasing. He responds with a couple of rough thrusts up into him, then reaches for his hand, puts it around his cock and that's all he needs. Within minutes Fujigaya is coming, spurting white onto Koyama's abs, clenching so tight around him that Koyama has to stop until he relaxes again, at least a little. Still so tight though, and the way he keeps trying to meet the thrusts even when he's spent is what eventually sends Koyama into his own orgasm.
Some days he has Fujigaya lick his come off Koyama's skin, makes him swallow it down; tonight he asks him to clean both of them off with a warm, damp towel. He gets rid of the condom too, throws it away before he crawls back in bed, lets Koyama pull him in for cuddles. Maybe it's strange to want to cuddle the whore he pays for, but he's staying the whole night and until he can go again, he figures might as well enjoy the way Fujigaya snuggles up against his side, leans his head against Koyama's chest while he uses his fingertips to draw little circles on his side, his breathing just as calm as his own. In turn he absentmindedly plays with Fujigaya's hair, doesn't mind that it's not perfectly clean anymore; all he thinks of is that Fujigaya is surprisingly silent tonight.
“Kei,” Fujigaya whispers then, and as always Koyama jerks at hearing part of his first name, even though he is the one that asked him to call him that. Doesn't want a whore disgracing his family name. “Kei, I love you.”
He stills, stops threading fingers through Fujigaya's hair, but doesn't shove his head away from his bare chest. Fujigaya doesn't need to say anything more; Koyama hears the truth behind it, assumes Fujigaya tells everyone that. The tone in his voice reveals that the words are fake, because there's a hint of pain in them. Fujigaya is asking for help, help to get away from there. And his costumers are rich, enough to be able to buy him out of prostitution.
Koyama gets up on his elbows, stirs Fujigaya before he places fingertips under his chin, tilts his head so that he can see the pain instead, much more obvious in his eyes than in his voice.
“No, you don't.” He's calm as he says it, keeps his voice as soft as possible, and next he sees what could be actual heartbreak in Fujigaya's dark brown eyes.
“I do, I really...” he tries, then cuts himself off as he breaks out in tears, hides his face against Koyama's chest as he sobs. He knows Koyama sees right through his lies.
There is no one like Fujigaya, he's certain, no one so gorgeous and talented, even if only in bed, but to Koyama everything is perfect as it is. All he needs is in this club, and it needs to be where it is for it to be convenient for him. Fujigaya needs to stay.