Exquisite lies
Exquisite lies
Fujigaya/Kojima Haruna (Kis-My-Ft2/AKB48)
pwp, 5600 words, NC-17. Mirrors
When Fujigaya and Kojiharu bump into each other they find that together, they can comfortably be better versions of themselves.
“Fujigaya Taisuke. Long time no see,” Kojima Haruna says as she sits down next to him on a flashy VIP couch. The people around them could be paying attention, could technically start spreading rumors, but they are all there on the same conditions, so it's unlikely. It's like an unwritten rule; don't tell on fellow celebrities.
“Hey,” Fujigaya replies, doesn't comment on the fact that they saw each other just a week ago on a music show, performing with their groups. They haven't actually talked in a long while, perhaps years, even.
“I saw one of your dramas,” she continues, “the one you looked like a girl in. I guess it was more Oguri-san's drama, though.”
“I saw one of your bikini shoots,” he shoots back, and she just laughs.
“I liked the drama. You did well.”
“I liked your shoot.”
It's feels a bit like they're back at the set of Ikemen desu ne, even though they're in a club with loud music and there's nothing but their sarcastic conversation that reminds of the drama four years ago. Now there's alcohol, and there's no one listening to their exchange.
“Really?” Haruna giggles, a giggle that's so fake it's almost real, but Fujigaya sees right through it because he knows what she's doing. The next thing she does is to lean over him to place her drink on the table in front of him, uses her opposite arm that conveniently presses against the side of her chest when she does; she can see Fujigaya eyeing her cleavage with a look that says he's not being fooled. “Perv,” she scolds him, even though they both know she wanted him to look.
He just laughs back. “Nice boobs.”
“Don't look!” she tries with her most scandalous voice, without speaking louder.
Well, if she's acting, he might as well do it too. Fujigaya scoots just a couple centimetres closer, strokes the hair out of his face before he speaks.
“What if I want to do more than just look?” He eyes her all the way from her long, wavy hair to the short skirt, to the high heels she's wearing, purposefully lowers his voice an octave into that stupid voice he does on radio for fun, the one they call erotic.
“Fujigaya-san,” she shoves lightly at his shoulder, “you're making me blush.”
“You've gotten better at acting,” he laughs as he pulls away, and she does her fake pout until he hands her the drink she put in front of him.
“You too. You almost sounded like you meant it.” It's not an accusation or anything; she knows she has a nice body, and if he likes it or not doesn't matter the least to her. It does make her curious when he instead of answering just takes a sip from his own glass, but she changes the subject nevertheless. “I watched one of your live DVDs the other day.”
“Which one?” Haruna shrugs when he asks, as she hasn't made sure to remember it. “What did my hair look like?”
“Kind of long? It was in Tokyo Dome.” Fujigaya nods in response, clearly thinking about which one it could be. “You're the hot one in your group, huh.”
“I... Thanks?” She's never given him any compliments in particular, so it's not odd that he seems confused by it, but the way he's taking it isn't the way Haruna meant.
“I mean you're the hot one, the erotic one. The tease.”
Now he's getting it. It's visible in his eyes that his mind clears up. “I guess. What about it?”
“Nothing, really. Just nice to know they exist among the boys, too.”
“Who's the one in your group?” Fujigaya should know the answer. Perhaps he's just trying to be polite.
“You're looking at her,” she laughs, finishes it off with drinking down the last drops of her drink.
Fujigaya makes a low, humming sound. “Isn't it kind of fun, though?”
“It is,” she nods, then lifts a perfectly manicured hand to wave over a waiter. The pros of the VIP parts of clubs are many; one of them is that there's no need to order your drinks by the bar. She orders for herself, Fujigaya adds a drink too, and once the waiter is gone she continues. “It's kind of like acting, even though it's not.”
The way Fujigaya is studying her face almost offends her; like he hadn't expected her to even be thinking deeper about it. She might not be the sharpest mind in her group, but she's not stupid.
“Yeah,” he agrees then, with a smile that's not reaching all the way to his eyes. “It's like a character that you can put on and take off.” He falls silent.
“You're feeling it too, huh?” This is what she had hoped for. To not be alone about it. Haruna is sure he can see on her face that she understands.
“It's just so much more comfortable. To act like you're confident and sexy. You get it? And I end up doing it in private as well, when... You know.”
“When you have sex.” She doesn't have to look to know that he nods. “I do it too. They don't like it, when they realize that it's not real.”
“Feel you.” Finally the waiter comes back, hands them both their drinks. “Sometimes I think that's why my girlfriends never stay for long.”
“Could be,” she shrugs. “I never try to have boyfriends.”
“I should stop trying,” Fujigaya mutters into his glass, ignores that fact that it's in Haruna's contract not to have any.
“There's people that wouldn't mind.” Haruna leans across him again as puts her glass down, then she winks towards him and the absent look is gone from his face. “Mm, you smell good.”
“Are you trying to imply something, miss?” She can tell that he's acting again, his voice lower and face closer.
“Never,” she sing-songs, uncrosses her legs and doesn't close them all the way as she shifts a little bit towards him. “Ah! You're looking at my legs now!”
“Because they're pretty,” he tells her, as there's no doubt she doesn't mind him looking; although her words sound accusing, she's smiling as she says them. “Long and slender,” he continues when she asks if he really means it, “and that skirt really compliments them.” He hesitates a bit before he places his hand on Haruna's bare knee; she gasps at the touch, but when she doesn't push it away, he leaves it there.
“Fujigaya-san, if I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to take me home.”
“Mm, no. How about a hotel? Large windows and a gorgeous night view.” She holds down the giggles; she is certain she has seen something along those lines on Kisumai busaiku. “It'll be good, I promise.” He moves his hand slowly along her thigh, stops halfway to her skirt, but her nerves are already tingling in anticipation.
“The view?” Haruna hears her voice a little breathier than before; it wouldn't have reached Fujigaya as the beat of the music has yet to stop, if he hadn't leaned close enough to be barely a decimeter from her face.
“That too,” he whispers, leans in and presses his lips to hers. With a soft sigh she angles her head, moves against him in a kiss that is nothing like what she did on set with Fujigaya's colleague, parts her lips to invite him in before he asks for it. He's soft, just as soft as she would expect, tastes of fresh lime, alcohol and a hint of arousal. She knows they shouldn't do this, not here, because although everyone is here on the same conditions, the word could spread that she has been making out with a member of Kis-My-Ft2 in a club and it wouldn't do either of them very well, but she also doesn't want to be the one to stop. As if reading her mind he breaks away from her, and if he had been attractive before, he's gorgeous now, a hint of want visible on his face.
“Let's go,” he mumbles, squeezes her thigh before he leans back to swallow down the remains of his drink.
She's surprised when Fujigaya actually takes her to a hotel room like the one he had described, on the 30th-something floor, windows so wide that it looks like one wall is made of glass alone; the wall opposite of the bed has a long mirror and the others are a neutral off-white. Outside is the night scenery of Tokyo, the ferris wheel on Odaiba glowing in all the colors of the rainbow, bridges and buildings reflecting in the water of Tokyo bay. Nothing Haruna hasn't seen before, but it's as beautiful as she remembers it.
“Do you like it?” a low voice comes from behind as arms find her waist; they pull her back against a warm chest before one hand lets go, moves to turn her face to the side. Fujigaya's lips are on hers again, less testing now that he knows she will respond.
“It's gorgeous.” As she breaks the kiss she replies, then turns around right in front of him. “You should do romantic movies,” she adds as the thought crosses her mind, and she sees on his face that maybe she shouldn't have said that. “No need to be natural with me,” she whispers then, pushes her hair back to reveal one shoulder in a way that's only for show. “Because I won't be, either.”
She lets him zip up her dress in the back, slide it down her body, steps out of it once it falls to the floor. Fujigaya's hands are on her immediately, soft on her sides, one stopping with a hand on the lining of her bra, the other sliding down to the hem of her panties. Her breath hitches as he reaches them, but her hands are steady as she works on the buttons of his shirt, puts her hands on his skin once she parts it and he leans down to kiss her again. For a moment his hands leave her body; she doesn't see it because she doesn't want to pull away from his lips, but the light sound of clothing hitting the floor reveals that he took the shirt off. His hands are back on her, but this time at the fastening of her bra, and as he unclasps it he leaves Haruna's lips for her neck.
“What if someone sees?” she asks as she lets the piece of underwear fall to the floor; the room is a comfortable temperature, yet the air feels a little cool against her nipples. A glance to the side and she sees the night-dark scenery through the windows, assumes that Fujigaya knows what she's thinking.
“They won't,” Fujigaya's voice vibrates against her jaw, “and even if they would, there is no way they would get our faces anyway.”
It should be more comforting than it is, because she really doesn't trust paparazzi, but she assumes he is right when she reminds herself that the closest place to photograph from must be the shore of Odaiba. Still, there's a thrill in it, fully undressing in front of a city where most people if not everyone knows her face.
“Unless they get a helicopter,” she mumbles dramatically, and he laughs silently against her neck, cups a breast with the hand he doesn't use to tease the skin at her waist.
“Shh.” Fujigaya plays with her nipple, rolls it gently until it hardens, pinches it lightly when it does, and her hands are a little less steady when she pops the button to his jeans. Before she lets them fall to the floor she traces fingers down his crotch, puts light pressure on his cock; the sound of his slightly heavier breath is awfully pleasant. She does no more, goes back to the fastenings of his pants, and once they join the rest of their clothes on the floor he starts pushing her the short distance to the bed.
When her back is flat against the covers Fujigaya gets a hand on one of her breasts and his lips on a collarbone, nipping on the skin as he makes his way downwards. The sighs she gives are genuine for now, so is the gasp that escapes her when fingertips suddenly brush her through her lace panties; she parts her thighs to give him space and he picks up on it, lets his fingers travel along her lips down to her hole and up again.
“Take them off,” she tells him, not because she's that impatient, rather that she would prefer not to stain them, but Haruna doesn't care what he thinks she means. The words make him look up at her, eyes dark through his fringe, lips seeming fuller than before and he's hot. There's nothing opposing in the way he looks at her, and next he pulls back to rid her of her underwear. It seems like he's going to keep his own on for now, but she doesn't mind; in a way it's more erotic to see the outline of his erection through the fabric, than seeing him entirely nude.
With firm yet gentle pushes he parts her legs wider, slides one hand from the back of her thigh to the front, on the inside, just enough to make her nerves twitch and he knows it, does the same on her other leg before he moves that same hand up to her mouth. Fujigaya's voice is low, almost husky as he tells her to open up, which she does without hesitation; lets him push two fingers inside, strokes them with her tongue when he repeats the movement several times. When he pulls the digits away they're wet, a string of saliva sticking to them from her lower lip, falls onto her chin when it breaks but she wipes it off quickly without taking her eyes off what he's doing.
The first touch to her outer lips is just a soft slide, but then he goes straight to her clitoris that's starting to peek out, smears it with saliva as he rubs it gently from over its hood. With a high-pitched moan she lets her head fall back onto the bed, trails a hand through her long hair, makes sure it doesn't get stuck under her shoulders. He has a nipple between his fingers as he bends down to kiss her, swallows the gasps she gives as he slips his fingers to her hole, pushes one inside so shallow that she barely she feels it before he continues at her clit. A few tries and he finds an angle that makes her legs shake, and Haruna has to push his hand aside because it's nearly scary how fast her body is reacting to him. To her satisfaction he doesn't stop, slides one finger back and forth into her so slowly it's torturous but so, so good.
“You want something, princess?” She opens her eyes at the whisper, pretends to be ashamed with how she's naked and spread for him, because they usually like that.
“Your head between my legs.” Her tone is weak to fit the rest of her act, but her words are strong and so the opposite of the rest of her that it makes him laugh silently, and the look he gives her is nothing but smoldering. He replies with a kiss to her neck before he starts moving down her body and her hands are in his hair by the time he takes a nipple between his lips; grips a little harder when he gets past her navel, fingers twitching at the first stroke of his tongue. He's a tease, starting on her thigh rather than anywhere she really wants it, but once she guides him right he's not moving away.
Instead he loops his arms around her legs, pulls her towards him with just enough strength to move her a tiny bit over the covers; she acts like it startles her but the twitch of her lean stomach is all real when he slips his tongue out to taste her. Soft and wet and a tease just like she expected him to be, but she lets him, keeps one hand on his head and lets the other come up to her own hair, strokes a stray strand out of her face before she turns her head, leans one cheek against the bed with a long sigh. The lights of Tokyo are staring back at her, along with the faint reflection of her own naked body, Fujigaya's head working between her legs, his hips rolling lazily against the bed. She deliberately rolls her own hips, watches his reaction as much as she feels it; his hands holding her steady while he thrusts towards the bed in a way that makes it seem involuntary. When she throws in a louder moan for good measure he looks up at her, and while he follows her gaze to see what she's looking at he pushes two fingers inside her. This time the moan is for real and her hips are jerking entirely on their own because when he meets her eyes through the window reflection his face is so knowing and so smug.
“You like that?” he whispers against one of her thighs; she focuses on the movement of his arm as she can't see his lips unless she looks away from the window. “You wanna watch while I make you come?”
“Yeah,” Haruna breathes, gives a high-pitched ah once he's back to work, playing with her clit with lips and tongue while he speeds up the fingers inside her. She hears the wet sounds, feels the heat pool inside of her; sees the way her body is moving towards all of it and she has to fight to keep her eyes open as her orgasm washes in waves through her body.
He moves away from her when she lets go of his hair, and she closes her eyes as she pulls her legs a little closer together, ignores Fujigaya while she lets her breathing go back to normal.
“If you faked that, you're good,” he comments; she doesn't answer because the only thing she never fakes is an orgasm. The bed is shifting under his weight, reveals that he's not looking for any confirmation, and she can't be bothered checking what he's doing until it feels like he's right above her. There's lips on hers the moment she blinks to look at him, but Haruna gives in and kisses back, sucks the remains of her own juices off his tongue before she gets distracted by him grabbing her wrist. He's firm but gentle, positions her hand so close to his erection that it bumps against the back of it when it twitches and she wastes no time to curl her hand around the shaft instead. For a moment it sounds like he's about to speak, but all that is heard between their lips is a suppressed moan as she begins stroking him up and down.
“My turn.” Haruna breaks the kiss with a whisper, strokes her hand down his chest like it's a well-practised choreography; stops at his sternum to push him up and away while she follows, then motions for him to change places. Once he has sat down properly, legs a little spread, she wastes no time to throw her long wavy hair over one shoulder before she moves backwards on all fours until she's on level with his erection. She doesn't tease with her hands, instead she does with her tongue, lapping up the pearl of pre-come from the head of his cock before she continues with the rest of it, sends quick glances up at him every now and then. He's still sitting up more than he's lying down, eyes hooded but glued to her, his lips nearly closed but not really, hair a little messy from before and he's just as gorgeous as she had expected him to be.
As Haruna takes him into her mouth she stops thinking about what he looks like or what he's doing; his cock twitches when she flicks her tongue against the head, hot and hard as it slides smoothly past her lips, slick with saliva. There's a hint of salty but mostly it tastes like sex, a taste she enjoys. It makes her feel anticipation crawling under her skin, just like his low sighs of pleasure do, makes her wet hole clench because she wants it. Preferably now, but waiting makes it better, no matter how much of a tease it is. So she goes slow, sucks around Fujigaya's erection as she bobs her head; puts her elbows down on the bed to take him deeper, tilts her head a little to avoid getting her hair in the way. As she does she shifts her legs a little, still putting her weight on her knees, his cock in her mouth all while she moves. She plays with her tongue while she sucks him in and out, expects the moans but not how out of rhythm they are compared to what she's used to.
“You're so wet,” he comments, and she has to look up at that, since he's not anywhere near touching her. Fujigaya's eyes are dark and hooded like before but they're going back and forth from her face, lips, and something that seems to be behind her. A quick turn with her head and she sees her own backside in the mirror, her pink swollen lips and how they glisten with her juices; she turns back immediately, puts her mouth back on him before she spreads her legs further so that he sees more of her. This time she goes just as slow, but slips a hand between her own legs, runs a finger along her lips before pushing two inside, listens to the wet sounds she's making.
“Shit,” Fujigaya curses, a hand coming down to her head; she relaxes her throat in preparation of him thrusting up, but instead she gets pushed away. “Get up here.”
It's not a tug on her hair, just a light pull as he urges her upwards, and as she comes up close enough he lets his other hand between her legs, first to make sure she puts them on each side of his body, then to push a couple fingers inside her. Haruna gasps at the initial touch, brushes her own hair aside before she leans her forehead against his shoulder, rocks her body towards the thrusts of his hand.
“Condom?” he mumbles, and she only hesitates until his cock twitches against her inner thigh.
“I'm clean,” she tells him, trusts him to know whether he's got anything or not.
She expects a verbal answer but all she gets is his cock pushing inside her after a quick push to position her better; but once he starts moving she's not exactly verbal either. The slide is hot and smooth and way too slow but still so good, the urge to voice her pleasure completely genuine and every little moan earns her a pointed thrust that makes her stomach tighten in a way that's only positive. For a moment she only meets his thrust a little, stays mostly still as she enjoys him, but then she straightens up a little, takes some weight off her knees and rocks against him, takes over the rhythm. With little noises Haruna rides him, leans back, just enough that he will be able to see the base of his slick cock when she lifts herself only to sink back down. There's no doubt Fujigaya is watching, and even if there was, the way his hand clutches at her thigh in time with his occasional low moans gives it away. Eventually it leaves her skin, though, moves to her crotch and when he thumbs at her swollen clitoris she mewls at the touch; while she makes the sound louder on purpose, it's all real. With a mind of its own her body gravitates towards him, rubs against his fingers while it tries to take his cock in deeper. She's positive his hand must be glistening with her substances because she feels them run down the inside of her thigh as well, a tickling trail that sticks to both of them.
But then he pushes her up and away, without a word rises up from the bed with a tight grip on her wrist. Haruna lets herself be pulled along, stands up, and when she realizes what he has in mind she feels further arousal and excitement surge through her body. Fujigaya isn't rough when he pushes her towards the window, but still not quite gentle either, more balancing between both as he places her hands on the cool glass, stands behind her but a little bit to the right, brings his left arm around her shoulders. With soft fingers under her chin he makes Haruna lift her head, meets the gaze of her reflection in the window before he leans in, speaks right against the side of her head.
“You liked watching, didn't you?”
She nods, spreads her legs when a hand connects with her hip and slides down towards the inside of her thigh; she is rewarded with a light rub to her clit, and his fingers linger on her as she breathes out her pleasure.
“You should let Tokyo watch as well.” He leans even closer, until his lips brush her earlobe as he speaks, and Haruna isn't sure if it's his voice or his fingers as they stroke along her swollen lips, but something is making her hips jerk without her telling them to. “You're so wet, baby,” he continues, his teasing smile audible in his voice, “wet and wide open for me.” Fujigaya's fingers slip inside her to prove it, two fingers going inside without any particular resistance, but she's not the slightest ashamed because if anything, the way he's talking to her is getting her hotter than ever before. He continues pushing them into her, slowly at first but just a whine from her and he speeds them up, until Haruna's legs start shaking, thighs pulling towards each other. That's when he stops, pulls away from her and laughs. A short, deep laugh against her neck, and it couldn't be more obvious that he brought her to the edge of an orgasm with no intention of letting her come.
“Show me,” she demands, and although he pauses as if to think, once he moves it doesn't take long until he's pushing his cock back inside her, lets out a heavy breath warm against her bare shoulder, one that she echoes, window glass fogging up only for the fog to disappear just a couple seconds later. Haruna watches, eyes off her own face and more on Fujigaya, on the lips that brush her skin lightly, on the hand that tightens on her hip when he sets into a rhythm without any particular build-up. Having been so close earlier she's not surprised to see a drop of transparent fluid extending from where his cock is entering her over and over again; the sight itself makes her clench around him and he puts more force into his thrusts as if to answer.
There's no need for Haruna to act like she likes it, she doesn't even emphasize her moans when he changes his grip on her, pulls her backwards with one arm wrapped low around her waist, his other trailing up to one of her breasts and when she sees it mirrored in the window she's not sure what to do with herself at all. She needs both hands on the glass but she needs more than just the full feeling of his cock inside of her, wants her clit rubbed but when she tries to tell him there's no words coming out of her mouth, just a string of sounds that makes him fuck her faster. Either he's ignoring what he should be understanding, or he's plain selfish, but she guesses it's the first and tries to angle herself to make him hit perfectly inside, because she knows that along with his fingers playing with her nipple, she should have no problems getting herself an orgasm.
“Look at you,” he whispers in her ear, low and comfortably out of breath, “desperate to come.” She nods, hopes that he understands, that he keeps talking; he pinches her nipple lightly as he continues. “So sensitive,” and he rolls it now, soft like his voice, “and in front of this entire city.”
He finishes it with a kiss to the side of her neck, erotic just because it's so casual, and that's the final push to get her over the edge; she comes so hard she almost blacks out for a second, and when she comes back she finds herself standing only thanks to Fujigaya holding her up. It surprises her that he has pulled out, especially as she likes when they fuck her throughout her orgasm, but she's only in that state until he has her on her back again, cock twitching as he pushes her legs apart.
“That's some muscles, huh,” he hums, teases her clit with a finger and she whines at it, still sensitive. “Pushed me all the way out.”
“Then get back inside,” Haruna taunts him, slides a hand up one of his arms, lets her eyes fall closed when he slides past her opening. “Make me come again.”
It's easier to play with him when he's the one getting close, when all he seems to want is to relieve his own needs and she's satisfied for the moment. She doesn't say it because she necessarily craves another orgasm, more because it's fun to see how he tries to hold out, how he seems to be conflicted on the inside to prove that he can give her what she's asking for although all his body tells him is to let go already. Haruna gives an exaggerated moan to call for his attention as she slides her own hands up her body, strokes her hair away from her neck with one, cups one breast with the other and the arousal she sees in his eyes might as well be pure fire.
“Fucking tease,” he groans, thrusts so hard that he shoves her up the mattress, but it's only for a couple of seconds and then he stills, panting as he comes inside of her. He stays like that for a moment, until she places one hand flat on his stomach, pushes him backwards and he pulls out, but doesn't move away from above her.
“Clean that up, will you?” she pushes at him lightly again, and he sends her a quick glance before he backs down, presses a kiss to her stomach before he lowers himself further; she sighs in pleasure when his tongue comes down on her clitoris, just a couple soft brushes before he continues. Judging by the motions as he licks around her hole, he really is collecting his own semen with his mouth; she's too wet to really feel him do it, but lets her head fall back and eyes close when his tongue pushes inside her and he brings one of his hands up to rub her as well. He's back at what she told him earlier, is trying to give her another orgasm, and Haruna has no plans on holding back if that's what he wants.
It takes only minutes until her legs are shaking and he holds her down with a hand on one of her thighs to keep working her with his tongue and fingers; she can't help the way she thrashes as she comes, whines a little when he pulls away even though she's definitely done.
“Greedy, aren't you?” Fujigaya as he sits up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You like it,” and he might be pretending to feel guiltier than he is, but just recalling his impatience after seeing her in the mirror is enough to assure her that it's not all fake.
“You gonna shower?” His voice is back to average casual, an abrupt end to their acting, but she shrugs, brushes her hair over one shoulder as she sits up.
“Nah, I'll just have someone pick me up. It's better if we leave separately anyway.”
A quick visit to the bathroom and she considers herself done; puts on her clothes, takes the sunglasses out of her purse, puts her hat on top of her head; Fujigaya is still getting dressed when she's done, and she's halfway out the door when he stops her.
“Give me your phone,” he asks, and Haruna hands it to him without a word, watches as he taps the screen numerous times. “You don't have to call,” he gives the phone back, “but if you ever get sick of being called fake again, I'm up to play. Really.”
“You're a weirdo,” she smiles, but she does appreciate it, perhaps mostly because he knows what it feels like. “You're totally romantic while you're talking about faking things.”
“I'm not faking anything,” and his face is mischievous and nearly cute as he speaks, “just acting a better me.”
There's no good answer, because what he says is what she's thinking about herself. And he knows. “See you,” is all she says and although she doesn't know when and where, has no intention of booty-calling him, she wouldn't mind if this accidentally happened again.
Fujigaya/Kojima Haruna (Kis-My-Ft2/AKB48)
pwp, 5600 words, NC-17. Mirrors
When Fujigaya and Kojiharu bump into each other they find that together, they can comfortably be better versions of themselves.
“Fujigaya Taisuke. Long time no see,” Kojima Haruna says as she sits down next to him on a flashy VIP couch. The people around them could be paying attention, could technically start spreading rumors, but they are all there on the same conditions, so it's unlikely. It's like an unwritten rule; don't tell on fellow celebrities.
“Hey,” Fujigaya replies, doesn't comment on the fact that they saw each other just a week ago on a music show, performing with their groups. They haven't actually talked in a long while, perhaps years, even.
“I saw one of your dramas,” she continues, “the one you looked like a girl in. I guess it was more Oguri-san's drama, though.”
“I saw one of your bikini shoots,” he shoots back, and she just laughs.
“I liked the drama. You did well.”
“I liked your shoot.”
It's feels a bit like they're back at the set of Ikemen desu ne, even though they're in a club with loud music and there's nothing but their sarcastic conversation that reminds of the drama four years ago. Now there's alcohol, and there's no one listening to their exchange.
“Really?” Haruna giggles, a giggle that's so fake it's almost real, but Fujigaya sees right through it because he knows what she's doing. The next thing she does is to lean over him to place her drink on the table in front of him, uses her opposite arm that conveniently presses against the side of her chest when she does; she can see Fujigaya eyeing her cleavage with a look that says he's not being fooled. “Perv,” she scolds him, even though they both know she wanted him to look.
He just laughs back. “Nice boobs.”
“Don't look!” she tries with her most scandalous voice, without speaking louder.
Well, if she's acting, he might as well do it too. Fujigaya scoots just a couple centimetres closer, strokes the hair out of his face before he speaks.
“What if I want to do more than just look?” He eyes her all the way from her long, wavy hair to the short skirt, to the high heels she's wearing, purposefully lowers his voice an octave into that stupid voice he does on radio for fun, the one they call erotic.
“Fujigaya-san,” she shoves lightly at his shoulder, “you're making me blush.”
“You've gotten better at acting,” he laughs as he pulls away, and she does her fake pout until he hands her the drink she put in front of him.
“You too. You almost sounded like you meant it.” It's not an accusation or anything; she knows she has a nice body, and if he likes it or not doesn't matter the least to her. It does make her curious when he instead of answering just takes a sip from his own glass, but she changes the subject nevertheless. “I watched one of your live DVDs the other day.”
“Which one?” Haruna shrugs when he asks, as she hasn't made sure to remember it. “What did my hair look like?”
“Kind of long? It was in Tokyo Dome.” Fujigaya nods in response, clearly thinking about which one it could be. “You're the hot one in your group, huh.”
“I... Thanks?” She's never given him any compliments in particular, so it's not odd that he seems confused by it, but the way he's taking it isn't the way Haruna meant.
“I mean you're the hot one, the erotic one. The tease.”
Now he's getting it. It's visible in his eyes that his mind clears up. “I guess. What about it?”
“Nothing, really. Just nice to know they exist among the boys, too.”
“Who's the one in your group?” Fujigaya should know the answer. Perhaps he's just trying to be polite.
“You're looking at her,” she laughs, finishes it off with drinking down the last drops of her drink.
Fujigaya makes a low, humming sound. “Isn't it kind of fun, though?”
“It is,” she nods, then lifts a perfectly manicured hand to wave over a waiter. The pros of the VIP parts of clubs are many; one of them is that there's no need to order your drinks by the bar. She orders for herself, Fujigaya adds a drink too, and once the waiter is gone she continues. “It's kind of like acting, even though it's not.”
The way Fujigaya is studying her face almost offends her; like he hadn't expected her to even be thinking deeper about it. She might not be the sharpest mind in her group, but she's not stupid.
“Yeah,” he agrees then, with a smile that's not reaching all the way to his eyes. “It's like a character that you can put on and take off.” He falls silent.
“You're feeling it too, huh?” This is what she had hoped for. To not be alone about it. Haruna is sure he can see on her face that she understands.
“It's just so much more comfortable. To act like you're confident and sexy. You get it? And I end up doing it in private as well, when... You know.”
“When you have sex.” She doesn't have to look to know that he nods. “I do it too. They don't like it, when they realize that it's not real.”
“Feel you.” Finally the waiter comes back, hands them both their drinks. “Sometimes I think that's why my girlfriends never stay for long.”
“Could be,” she shrugs. “I never try to have boyfriends.”
“I should stop trying,” Fujigaya mutters into his glass, ignores that fact that it's in Haruna's contract not to have any.
“There's people that wouldn't mind.” Haruna leans across him again as puts her glass down, then she winks towards him and the absent look is gone from his face. “Mm, you smell good.”
“Are you trying to imply something, miss?” She can tell that he's acting again, his voice lower and face closer.
“Never,” she sing-songs, uncrosses her legs and doesn't close them all the way as she shifts a little bit towards him. “Ah! You're looking at my legs now!”
“Because they're pretty,” he tells her, as there's no doubt she doesn't mind him looking; although her words sound accusing, she's smiling as she says them. “Long and slender,” he continues when she asks if he really means it, “and that skirt really compliments them.” He hesitates a bit before he places his hand on Haruna's bare knee; she gasps at the touch, but when she doesn't push it away, he leaves it there.
“Fujigaya-san, if I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to take me home.”
“Mm, no. How about a hotel? Large windows and a gorgeous night view.” She holds down the giggles; she is certain she has seen something along those lines on Kisumai busaiku. “It'll be good, I promise.” He moves his hand slowly along her thigh, stops halfway to her skirt, but her nerves are already tingling in anticipation.
“The view?” Haruna hears her voice a little breathier than before; it wouldn't have reached Fujigaya as the beat of the music has yet to stop, if he hadn't leaned close enough to be barely a decimeter from her face.
“That too,” he whispers, leans in and presses his lips to hers. With a soft sigh she angles her head, moves against him in a kiss that is nothing like what she did on set with Fujigaya's colleague, parts her lips to invite him in before he asks for it. He's soft, just as soft as she would expect, tastes of fresh lime, alcohol and a hint of arousal. She knows they shouldn't do this, not here, because although everyone is here on the same conditions, the word could spread that she has been making out with a member of Kis-My-Ft2 in a club and it wouldn't do either of them very well, but she also doesn't want to be the one to stop. As if reading her mind he breaks away from her, and if he had been attractive before, he's gorgeous now, a hint of want visible on his face.
“Let's go,” he mumbles, squeezes her thigh before he leans back to swallow down the remains of his drink.
She's surprised when Fujigaya actually takes her to a hotel room like the one he had described, on the 30th-something floor, windows so wide that it looks like one wall is made of glass alone; the wall opposite of the bed has a long mirror and the others are a neutral off-white. Outside is the night scenery of Tokyo, the ferris wheel on Odaiba glowing in all the colors of the rainbow, bridges and buildings reflecting in the water of Tokyo bay. Nothing Haruna hasn't seen before, but it's as beautiful as she remembers it.
“Do you like it?” a low voice comes from behind as arms find her waist; they pull her back against a warm chest before one hand lets go, moves to turn her face to the side. Fujigaya's lips are on hers again, less testing now that he knows she will respond.
“It's gorgeous.” As she breaks the kiss she replies, then turns around right in front of him. “You should do romantic movies,” she adds as the thought crosses her mind, and she sees on his face that maybe she shouldn't have said that. “No need to be natural with me,” she whispers then, pushes her hair back to reveal one shoulder in a way that's only for show. “Because I won't be, either.”
She lets him zip up her dress in the back, slide it down her body, steps out of it once it falls to the floor. Fujigaya's hands are on her immediately, soft on her sides, one stopping with a hand on the lining of her bra, the other sliding down to the hem of her panties. Her breath hitches as he reaches them, but her hands are steady as she works on the buttons of his shirt, puts her hands on his skin once she parts it and he leans down to kiss her again. For a moment his hands leave her body; she doesn't see it because she doesn't want to pull away from his lips, but the light sound of clothing hitting the floor reveals that he took the shirt off. His hands are back on her, but this time at the fastening of her bra, and as he unclasps it he leaves Haruna's lips for her neck.
“What if someone sees?” she asks as she lets the piece of underwear fall to the floor; the room is a comfortable temperature, yet the air feels a little cool against her nipples. A glance to the side and she sees the night-dark scenery through the windows, assumes that Fujigaya knows what she's thinking.
“They won't,” Fujigaya's voice vibrates against her jaw, “and even if they would, there is no way they would get our faces anyway.”
It should be more comforting than it is, because she really doesn't trust paparazzi, but she assumes he is right when she reminds herself that the closest place to photograph from must be the shore of Odaiba. Still, there's a thrill in it, fully undressing in front of a city where most people if not everyone knows her face.
“Unless they get a helicopter,” she mumbles dramatically, and he laughs silently against her neck, cups a breast with the hand he doesn't use to tease the skin at her waist.
“Shh.” Fujigaya plays with her nipple, rolls it gently until it hardens, pinches it lightly when it does, and her hands are a little less steady when she pops the button to his jeans. Before she lets them fall to the floor she traces fingers down his crotch, puts light pressure on his cock; the sound of his slightly heavier breath is awfully pleasant. She does no more, goes back to the fastenings of his pants, and once they join the rest of their clothes on the floor he starts pushing her the short distance to the bed.
When her back is flat against the covers Fujigaya gets a hand on one of her breasts and his lips on a collarbone, nipping on the skin as he makes his way downwards. The sighs she gives are genuine for now, so is the gasp that escapes her when fingertips suddenly brush her through her lace panties; she parts her thighs to give him space and he picks up on it, lets his fingers travel along her lips down to her hole and up again.
“Take them off,” she tells him, not because she's that impatient, rather that she would prefer not to stain them, but Haruna doesn't care what he thinks she means. The words make him look up at her, eyes dark through his fringe, lips seeming fuller than before and he's hot. There's nothing opposing in the way he looks at her, and next he pulls back to rid her of her underwear. It seems like he's going to keep his own on for now, but she doesn't mind; in a way it's more erotic to see the outline of his erection through the fabric, than seeing him entirely nude.
With firm yet gentle pushes he parts her legs wider, slides one hand from the back of her thigh to the front, on the inside, just enough to make her nerves twitch and he knows it, does the same on her other leg before he moves that same hand up to her mouth. Fujigaya's voice is low, almost husky as he tells her to open up, which she does without hesitation; lets him push two fingers inside, strokes them with her tongue when he repeats the movement several times. When he pulls the digits away they're wet, a string of saliva sticking to them from her lower lip, falls onto her chin when it breaks but she wipes it off quickly without taking her eyes off what he's doing.
The first touch to her outer lips is just a soft slide, but then he goes straight to her clitoris that's starting to peek out, smears it with saliva as he rubs it gently from over its hood. With a high-pitched moan she lets her head fall back onto the bed, trails a hand through her long hair, makes sure it doesn't get stuck under her shoulders. He has a nipple between his fingers as he bends down to kiss her, swallows the gasps she gives as he slips his fingers to her hole, pushes one inside so shallow that she barely she feels it before he continues at her clit. A few tries and he finds an angle that makes her legs shake, and Haruna has to push his hand aside because it's nearly scary how fast her body is reacting to him. To her satisfaction he doesn't stop, slides one finger back and forth into her so slowly it's torturous but so, so good.
“You want something, princess?” She opens her eyes at the whisper, pretends to be ashamed with how she's naked and spread for him, because they usually like that.
“Your head between my legs.” Her tone is weak to fit the rest of her act, but her words are strong and so the opposite of the rest of her that it makes him laugh silently, and the look he gives her is nothing but smoldering. He replies with a kiss to her neck before he starts moving down her body and her hands are in his hair by the time he takes a nipple between his lips; grips a little harder when he gets past her navel, fingers twitching at the first stroke of his tongue. He's a tease, starting on her thigh rather than anywhere she really wants it, but once she guides him right he's not moving away.
Instead he loops his arms around her legs, pulls her towards him with just enough strength to move her a tiny bit over the covers; she acts like it startles her but the twitch of her lean stomach is all real when he slips his tongue out to taste her. Soft and wet and a tease just like she expected him to be, but she lets him, keeps one hand on his head and lets the other come up to her own hair, strokes a stray strand out of her face before she turns her head, leans one cheek against the bed with a long sigh. The lights of Tokyo are staring back at her, along with the faint reflection of her own naked body, Fujigaya's head working between her legs, his hips rolling lazily against the bed. She deliberately rolls her own hips, watches his reaction as much as she feels it; his hands holding her steady while he thrusts towards the bed in a way that makes it seem involuntary. When she throws in a louder moan for good measure he looks up at her, and while he follows her gaze to see what she's looking at he pushes two fingers inside her. This time the moan is for real and her hips are jerking entirely on their own because when he meets her eyes through the window reflection his face is so knowing and so smug.
“You like that?” he whispers against one of her thighs; she focuses on the movement of his arm as she can't see his lips unless she looks away from the window. “You wanna watch while I make you come?”
“Yeah,” Haruna breathes, gives a high-pitched ah once he's back to work, playing with her clit with lips and tongue while he speeds up the fingers inside her. She hears the wet sounds, feels the heat pool inside of her; sees the way her body is moving towards all of it and she has to fight to keep her eyes open as her orgasm washes in waves through her body.
He moves away from her when she lets go of his hair, and she closes her eyes as she pulls her legs a little closer together, ignores Fujigaya while she lets her breathing go back to normal.
“If you faked that, you're good,” he comments; she doesn't answer because the only thing she never fakes is an orgasm. The bed is shifting under his weight, reveals that he's not looking for any confirmation, and she can't be bothered checking what he's doing until it feels like he's right above her. There's lips on hers the moment she blinks to look at him, but Haruna gives in and kisses back, sucks the remains of her own juices off his tongue before she gets distracted by him grabbing her wrist. He's firm but gentle, positions her hand so close to his erection that it bumps against the back of it when it twitches and she wastes no time to curl her hand around the shaft instead. For a moment it sounds like he's about to speak, but all that is heard between their lips is a suppressed moan as she begins stroking him up and down.
“My turn.” Haruna breaks the kiss with a whisper, strokes her hand down his chest like it's a well-practised choreography; stops at his sternum to push him up and away while she follows, then motions for him to change places. Once he has sat down properly, legs a little spread, she wastes no time to throw her long wavy hair over one shoulder before she moves backwards on all fours until she's on level with his erection. She doesn't tease with her hands, instead she does with her tongue, lapping up the pearl of pre-come from the head of his cock before she continues with the rest of it, sends quick glances up at him every now and then. He's still sitting up more than he's lying down, eyes hooded but glued to her, his lips nearly closed but not really, hair a little messy from before and he's just as gorgeous as she had expected him to be.
As Haruna takes him into her mouth she stops thinking about what he looks like or what he's doing; his cock twitches when she flicks her tongue against the head, hot and hard as it slides smoothly past her lips, slick with saliva. There's a hint of salty but mostly it tastes like sex, a taste she enjoys. It makes her feel anticipation crawling under her skin, just like his low sighs of pleasure do, makes her wet hole clench because she wants it. Preferably now, but waiting makes it better, no matter how much of a tease it is. So she goes slow, sucks around Fujigaya's erection as she bobs her head; puts her elbows down on the bed to take him deeper, tilts her head a little to avoid getting her hair in the way. As she does she shifts her legs a little, still putting her weight on her knees, his cock in her mouth all while she moves. She plays with her tongue while she sucks him in and out, expects the moans but not how out of rhythm they are compared to what she's used to.
“You're so wet,” he comments, and she has to look up at that, since he's not anywhere near touching her. Fujigaya's eyes are dark and hooded like before but they're going back and forth from her face, lips, and something that seems to be behind her. A quick turn with her head and she sees her own backside in the mirror, her pink swollen lips and how they glisten with her juices; she turns back immediately, puts her mouth back on him before she spreads her legs further so that he sees more of her. This time she goes just as slow, but slips a hand between her own legs, runs a finger along her lips before pushing two inside, listens to the wet sounds she's making.
“Shit,” Fujigaya curses, a hand coming down to her head; she relaxes her throat in preparation of him thrusting up, but instead she gets pushed away. “Get up here.”
It's not a tug on her hair, just a light pull as he urges her upwards, and as she comes up close enough he lets his other hand between her legs, first to make sure she puts them on each side of his body, then to push a couple fingers inside her. Haruna gasps at the initial touch, brushes her own hair aside before she leans her forehead against his shoulder, rocks her body towards the thrusts of his hand.
“Condom?” he mumbles, and she only hesitates until his cock twitches against her inner thigh.
“I'm clean,” she tells him, trusts him to know whether he's got anything or not.
She expects a verbal answer but all she gets is his cock pushing inside her after a quick push to position her better; but once he starts moving she's not exactly verbal either. The slide is hot and smooth and way too slow but still so good, the urge to voice her pleasure completely genuine and every little moan earns her a pointed thrust that makes her stomach tighten in a way that's only positive. For a moment she only meets his thrust a little, stays mostly still as she enjoys him, but then she straightens up a little, takes some weight off her knees and rocks against him, takes over the rhythm. With little noises Haruna rides him, leans back, just enough that he will be able to see the base of his slick cock when she lifts herself only to sink back down. There's no doubt Fujigaya is watching, and even if there was, the way his hand clutches at her thigh in time with his occasional low moans gives it away. Eventually it leaves her skin, though, moves to her crotch and when he thumbs at her swollen clitoris she mewls at the touch; while she makes the sound louder on purpose, it's all real. With a mind of its own her body gravitates towards him, rubs against his fingers while it tries to take his cock in deeper. She's positive his hand must be glistening with her substances because she feels them run down the inside of her thigh as well, a tickling trail that sticks to both of them.
But then he pushes her up and away, without a word rises up from the bed with a tight grip on her wrist. Haruna lets herself be pulled along, stands up, and when she realizes what he has in mind she feels further arousal and excitement surge through her body. Fujigaya isn't rough when he pushes her towards the window, but still not quite gentle either, more balancing between both as he places her hands on the cool glass, stands behind her but a little bit to the right, brings his left arm around her shoulders. With soft fingers under her chin he makes Haruna lift her head, meets the gaze of her reflection in the window before he leans in, speaks right against the side of her head.
“You liked watching, didn't you?”
She nods, spreads her legs when a hand connects with her hip and slides down towards the inside of her thigh; she is rewarded with a light rub to her clit, and his fingers linger on her as she breathes out her pleasure.
“You should let Tokyo watch as well.” He leans even closer, until his lips brush her earlobe as he speaks, and Haruna isn't sure if it's his voice or his fingers as they stroke along her swollen lips, but something is making her hips jerk without her telling them to. “You're so wet, baby,” he continues, his teasing smile audible in his voice, “wet and wide open for me.” Fujigaya's fingers slip inside her to prove it, two fingers going inside without any particular resistance, but she's not the slightest ashamed because if anything, the way he's talking to her is getting her hotter than ever before. He continues pushing them into her, slowly at first but just a whine from her and he speeds them up, until Haruna's legs start shaking, thighs pulling towards each other. That's when he stops, pulls away from her and laughs. A short, deep laugh against her neck, and it couldn't be more obvious that he brought her to the edge of an orgasm with no intention of letting her come.
“Show me,” she demands, and although he pauses as if to think, once he moves it doesn't take long until he's pushing his cock back inside her, lets out a heavy breath warm against her bare shoulder, one that she echoes, window glass fogging up only for the fog to disappear just a couple seconds later. Haruna watches, eyes off her own face and more on Fujigaya, on the lips that brush her skin lightly, on the hand that tightens on her hip when he sets into a rhythm without any particular build-up. Having been so close earlier she's not surprised to see a drop of transparent fluid extending from where his cock is entering her over and over again; the sight itself makes her clench around him and he puts more force into his thrusts as if to answer.
There's no need for Haruna to act like she likes it, she doesn't even emphasize her moans when he changes his grip on her, pulls her backwards with one arm wrapped low around her waist, his other trailing up to one of her breasts and when she sees it mirrored in the window she's not sure what to do with herself at all. She needs both hands on the glass but she needs more than just the full feeling of his cock inside of her, wants her clit rubbed but when she tries to tell him there's no words coming out of her mouth, just a string of sounds that makes him fuck her faster. Either he's ignoring what he should be understanding, or he's plain selfish, but she guesses it's the first and tries to angle herself to make him hit perfectly inside, because she knows that along with his fingers playing with her nipple, she should have no problems getting herself an orgasm.
“Look at you,” he whispers in her ear, low and comfortably out of breath, “desperate to come.” She nods, hopes that he understands, that he keeps talking; he pinches her nipple lightly as he continues. “So sensitive,” and he rolls it now, soft like his voice, “and in front of this entire city.”
He finishes it with a kiss to the side of her neck, erotic just because it's so casual, and that's the final push to get her over the edge; she comes so hard she almost blacks out for a second, and when she comes back she finds herself standing only thanks to Fujigaya holding her up. It surprises her that he has pulled out, especially as she likes when they fuck her throughout her orgasm, but she's only in that state until he has her on her back again, cock twitching as he pushes her legs apart.
“That's some muscles, huh,” he hums, teases her clit with a finger and she whines at it, still sensitive. “Pushed me all the way out.”
“Then get back inside,” Haruna taunts him, slides a hand up one of his arms, lets her eyes fall closed when he slides past her opening. “Make me come again.”
It's easier to play with him when he's the one getting close, when all he seems to want is to relieve his own needs and she's satisfied for the moment. She doesn't say it because she necessarily craves another orgasm, more because it's fun to see how he tries to hold out, how he seems to be conflicted on the inside to prove that he can give her what she's asking for although all his body tells him is to let go already. Haruna gives an exaggerated moan to call for his attention as she slides her own hands up her body, strokes her hair away from her neck with one, cups one breast with the other and the arousal she sees in his eyes might as well be pure fire.
“Fucking tease,” he groans, thrusts so hard that he shoves her up the mattress, but it's only for a couple of seconds and then he stills, panting as he comes inside of her. He stays like that for a moment, until she places one hand flat on his stomach, pushes him backwards and he pulls out, but doesn't move away from above her.
“Clean that up, will you?” she pushes at him lightly again, and he sends her a quick glance before he backs down, presses a kiss to her stomach before he lowers himself further; she sighs in pleasure when his tongue comes down on her clitoris, just a couple soft brushes before he continues. Judging by the motions as he licks around her hole, he really is collecting his own semen with his mouth; she's too wet to really feel him do it, but lets her head fall back and eyes close when his tongue pushes inside her and he brings one of his hands up to rub her as well. He's back at what she told him earlier, is trying to give her another orgasm, and Haruna has no plans on holding back if that's what he wants.
It takes only minutes until her legs are shaking and he holds her down with a hand on one of her thighs to keep working her with his tongue and fingers; she can't help the way she thrashes as she comes, whines a little when he pulls away even though she's definitely done.
“Greedy, aren't you?” Fujigaya as he sits up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You like it,” and he might be pretending to feel guiltier than he is, but just recalling his impatience after seeing her in the mirror is enough to assure her that it's not all fake.
“You gonna shower?” His voice is back to average casual, an abrupt end to their acting, but she shrugs, brushes her hair over one shoulder as she sits up.
“Nah, I'll just have someone pick me up. It's better if we leave separately anyway.”
A quick visit to the bathroom and she considers herself done; puts on her clothes, takes the sunglasses out of her purse, puts her hat on top of her head; Fujigaya is still getting dressed when she's done, and she's halfway out the door when he stops her.
“Give me your phone,” he asks, and Haruna hands it to him without a word, watches as he taps the screen numerous times. “You don't have to call,” he gives the phone back, “but if you ever get sick of being called fake again, I'm up to play. Really.”
“You're a weirdo,” she smiles, but she does appreciate it, perhaps mostly because he knows what it feels like. “You're totally romantic while you're talking about faking things.”
“I'm not faking anything,” and his face is mischievous and nearly cute as he speaks, “just acting a better me.”
There's no good answer, because what he says is what she's thinking about herself. And he knows. “See you,” is all she says and although she doesn't know when and where, has no intention of booty-calling him, she wouldn't mind if this accidentally happened again.