Premiere Performance
Title: Premiere Performance
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho/Fukada Kyoko
Summary: “What did you want to talk about?” He actually blushes. “Ah, you don't want to talk.”
Notes/Warnings: For the JE Spring Smut Meme, March 2010. Request for these two to spend the night together, as it were.
She's not dumb, at least where this is concerned. They had her in a rather form-fitting dress all day, and the stage lights had left beads of perspiration all down her neck, all across her chest. She caught his eyes drifting whenever director Miike would talk. Of course, she knows that Sakurai-san is well trained, so he 's good enough to look at her chest without it looking like he's doing that.
They'll be taking the shinkansen back to Tokyo in the morning, and the production company's got them at a fairly nice hotel for the night now that the Osaka premiere and press greeting is over. She's got on a more comfortable skirt and top to go down to the hotel bar, but when she opens her door to go out, he's standing there looking far different than his idol persona, far different from the friendly, heroic Gan-chan he's been projecting from city to city.
“Sakurai-san.”
“Kyoko-chan,” he says, and his voice doesn't even waver. It's strong, confident, and it sends a shudder down her spine. He knows that she knows he was checking her out on stage.
“Want to join me for a drink downstairs?”
He licks his lips, hands in his jean pockets. “I was wondering if we could talk?”
She doesn't know him that well, but she respects him. He works hard, he's polite and smart, and it's hard to say no to the way he's looking at her. He doesn't really want to talk, but he's not forcing the issue. He waits patiently on the other side of the doorway for her response.
There will probably never be another chance like this once they get back. Aside from movie obligations, it would be strange to see one another. If only to satisfy her curiosity...
“Come on in.”
His resolve changes once he's inside, and she locks the door. The confident idol stayed in the hall, and it seems like the real Sakurai has entered her hotel room. She likes this gap and touches him first, running a finger along his jaw.
“What did you want to talk about?”
He actually blushes.
“Ah, you don't want to talk.”
“If I've been too forward,” he mumbles apologetically. “Believe me, I'm not usually like this so...”
She wraps her arms around his neck. With her heeled shoes on, she's not much shorter than him. “Go ahead,” she whispers, closing her eyes.
He's incredibly respectful, kissing her slowly and gently. His hands stay at her waist and don't move, as if he expects her to grant permission for each subsequent action. But he's a good kisser with soft, warm lips, and she lets him linger for a while. She gives his shoulder a squeeze, and he slides his hand under her shirt.
They filmed their kiss for the movie in a matter of minutes, only a handful of takes. It's obviously better without a filming crew and the lights, and Sho's not as pure as Gan-chan. He turns them so her back's to the door, his fingers not hesitating as much once they find the swell of her breasts.
She shifts, tilting her neck so he can press slow, wet kisses there. Definitely less pure than Gan-chan. His hand moves down to her skirt, clumsily shifting the fabric up as he grips her thigh. She gasps when she first feels his erection through his jeans. She wants this, all of this.
“Sakurai-san,” she whispers, closing her eyes and placing her hand against his where it's so warm against her leg.
He nips lightly at her chin, kissing her again until neither of them can breathe. “Can I touch you?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse. She releases his hand, pressing her sweaty palm back against the door.
“Yes.”
His hand shifts, and he starts dancing his fingers across the fabric of her panties. He doesn't stop kissing her, pressing his lips to hers lazily as he begins to rub. It feels so good, and his breath seems to hitch as the material grows damp with her interest.
He probably doesn't get much chance to take things so slowly. She knows because she rarely gets such a chance herself. “Touch me,” she asks him, hips starting to buck unconsciously against his hand. His fingers slip past the elastic and inside, and he groans when he first rubs his fingers against her bare flesh. She shudders, hooking her fingers on one of his belt loops. “Don't stop.”
Her knees are weakening along with her resolve as he strokes her, parts her, puts a finger inside of her.
“Sho-san...”
She's slick and ready for him as he quickens the pace, finally leaving her mouth to breathe heavily against her ear. He goes deeper, adds a second finger and a third, and his breathing grows louder. “I want you,” he admits, tongue wet to her earlobe.
“Me too,” she says, trying to catch her breath. Her body has other ideas, arching off the door to try and match the pace of his fingers within her.
His hand trembles against her when he withdraws. “I don't...I didn't bring...I didn't think...”
He's babbling in a way he'd never show on the news, and she's already missing his closeness. “It's fine,” she tells him. “I'm on the pill.”
“I don't have any diseases,” he admits shakily, and she chuckles.
“I believe you, be quiet!” His hand's sticky and wet from her when she tugs on him and pulls him to her bed.
“...sorry.”
“On or off?” she asks, fingers poised at the zipper of her skirt.
“On.”
He then votes off for her blouse and shoes, but on for her bra. He seems to like the way they look in lace. She gives him a wink once she's divested of her shirt and has reached under her skirt to pull her panties to the floor. “You've got too much on.”
She helps him with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans and tossing it by her discarded blouse. He pauses, moving his hands to cup her breasts, and his hair tickles when he presses a kiss to her collarbone. Now she's the one growing anxious. She tugs on his t-shirt, and together they get it over his head. He's firm with a toned stomach, and she's glad she's with an idol. He pulls his jeans to the floor, stepping out of them a bit clumsily.
They kiss again, and she slips her hand inside his boxer shorts. He groans, the sound lost within her mouth. He's hard, probably has been since he knocked on her door. “Shove me down,” she says.
“Kyoko-chan,” he mumbles as she slides her hand up and down his length.
“Shove me down. Take me. Please.”
He obeys, lust in his eyes as he pushes her down onto the mattress. She scoots back and spreads her legs, skirt riding up her hips as he hurriedly pulls his underwear off. The mattress creaks as he joins her, his mouth finding hers again. His erection rubs against her, teasing her. She spreads her legs farther, inviting him. “Okay,” he whispers as he takes hold of himself, “okay.”
He pushes in slowly, filling her, letting her body adjust around him.
“So good,” he mumbles, starting to rock against her slowly. He's watching their bodies come together. The bed creaks, and she focuses on the sound, focuses on the sound of his breaths and his moans. Sho goes faster, harder the more she clings to him, the more she gasps. She almost wants to tell him to slow down, to make sure it'll last longer since they'll have to forget this entirely come morning. But he's so hard, kissing sloppily but affectionately as he thrusts against her.
He moves her legs, bending them until her feet are level with her head so he can go deeper inside, and the new sensations rock through her body. She cries out, again and again as Sho groans closer to completion, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. He pulls out with a strangled cry, his come spilling warm and sticky on her stomach. He breathes heavily, stroking himself, almost laughing in his pleasure.
“Kyoko-chan,” he says in exhaustion, rolling off to lay on his back. “Kyoko-chan...”
Her legs are trembling as she lays them back flat against the mattress, body already feeling empty without him. He kisses her sweaty forehead and she opens her eyes, the bed creaking as he gets up a few moments later. He returns with tissue from the bathroom, cleaning her and mumbling apologetically.
She rolls onto her side with a contented grin, feeling him come up behind her. “Sorry for...”
Their bodies are both warm and sweaty, but she likes that he's staying. “Nothing to be sorry for...”
“Well, I meant sorry for this,” he says wickedly, moving his hand back between her thighs to start all over again.
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho/Fukada Kyoko
Summary: “What did you want to talk about?” He actually blushes. “Ah, you don't want to talk.”
Notes/Warnings: For the JE Spring Smut Meme, March 2010. Request for these two to spend the night together, as it were.
She's not dumb, at least where this is concerned. They had her in a rather form-fitting dress all day, and the stage lights had left beads of perspiration all down her neck, all across her chest. She caught his eyes drifting whenever director Miike would talk. Of course, she knows that Sakurai-san is well trained, so he 's good enough to look at her chest without it looking like he's doing that.
They'll be taking the shinkansen back to Tokyo in the morning, and the production company's got them at a fairly nice hotel for the night now that the Osaka premiere and press greeting is over. She's got on a more comfortable skirt and top to go down to the hotel bar, but when she opens her door to go out, he's standing there looking far different than his idol persona, far different from the friendly, heroic Gan-chan he's been projecting from city to city.
“Sakurai-san.”
“Kyoko-chan,” he says, and his voice doesn't even waver. It's strong, confident, and it sends a shudder down her spine. He knows that she knows he was checking her out on stage.
“Want to join me for a drink downstairs?”
He licks his lips, hands in his jean pockets. “I was wondering if we could talk?”
She doesn't know him that well, but she respects him. He works hard, he's polite and smart, and it's hard to say no to the way he's looking at her. He doesn't really want to talk, but he's not forcing the issue. He waits patiently on the other side of the doorway for her response.
There will probably never be another chance like this once they get back. Aside from movie obligations, it would be strange to see one another. If only to satisfy her curiosity...
“Come on in.”
His resolve changes once he's inside, and she locks the door. The confident idol stayed in the hall, and it seems like the real Sakurai has entered her hotel room. She likes this gap and touches him first, running a finger along his jaw.
“What did you want to talk about?”
He actually blushes.
“Ah, you don't want to talk.”
“If I've been too forward,” he mumbles apologetically. “Believe me, I'm not usually like this so...”
She wraps her arms around his neck. With her heeled shoes on, she's not much shorter than him. “Go ahead,” she whispers, closing her eyes.
He's incredibly respectful, kissing her slowly and gently. His hands stay at her waist and don't move, as if he expects her to grant permission for each subsequent action. But he's a good kisser with soft, warm lips, and she lets him linger for a while. She gives his shoulder a squeeze, and he slides his hand under her shirt.
They filmed their kiss for the movie in a matter of minutes, only a handful of takes. It's obviously better without a filming crew and the lights, and Sho's not as pure as Gan-chan. He turns them so her back's to the door, his fingers not hesitating as much once they find the swell of her breasts.
She shifts, tilting her neck so he can press slow, wet kisses there. Definitely less pure than Gan-chan. His hand moves down to her skirt, clumsily shifting the fabric up as he grips her thigh. She gasps when she first feels his erection through his jeans. She wants this, all of this.
“Sakurai-san,” she whispers, closing her eyes and placing her hand against his where it's so warm against her leg.
He nips lightly at her chin, kissing her again until neither of them can breathe. “Can I touch you?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse. She releases his hand, pressing her sweaty palm back against the door.
“Yes.”
His hand shifts, and he starts dancing his fingers across the fabric of her panties. He doesn't stop kissing her, pressing his lips to hers lazily as he begins to rub. It feels so good, and his breath seems to hitch as the material grows damp with her interest.
He probably doesn't get much chance to take things so slowly. She knows because she rarely gets such a chance herself. “Touch me,” she asks him, hips starting to buck unconsciously against his hand. His fingers slip past the elastic and inside, and he groans when he first rubs his fingers against her bare flesh. She shudders, hooking her fingers on one of his belt loops. “Don't stop.”
Her knees are weakening along with her resolve as he strokes her, parts her, puts a finger inside of her.
“Sho-san...”
She's slick and ready for him as he quickens the pace, finally leaving her mouth to breathe heavily against her ear. He goes deeper, adds a second finger and a third, and his breathing grows louder. “I want you,” he admits, tongue wet to her earlobe.
“Me too,” she says, trying to catch her breath. Her body has other ideas, arching off the door to try and match the pace of his fingers within her.
His hand trembles against her when he withdraws. “I don't...I didn't bring...I didn't think...”
He's babbling in a way he'd never show on the news, and she's already missing his closeness. “It's fine,” she tells him. “I'm on the pill.”
“I don't have any diseases,” he admits shakily, and she chuckles.
“I believe you, be quiet!” His hand's sticky and wet from her when she tugs on him and pulls him to her bed.
“...sorry.”
“On or off?” she asks, fingers poised at the zipper of her skirt.
“On.”
He then votes off for her blouse and shoes, but on for her bra. He seems to like the way they look in lace. She gives him a wink once she's divested of her shirt and has reached under her skirt to pull her panties to the floor. “You've got too much on.”
She helps him with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans and tossing it by her discarded blouse. He pauses, moving his hands to cup her breasts, and his hair tickles when he presses a kiss to her collarbone. Now she's the one growing anxious. She tugs on his t-shirt, and together they get it over his head. He's firm with a toned stomach, and she's glad she's with an idol. He pulls his jeans to the floor, stepping out of them a bit clumsily.
They kiss again, and she slips her hand inside his boxer shorts. He groans, the sound lost within her mouth. He's hard, probably has been since he knocked on her door. “Shove me down,” she says.
“Kyoko-chan,” he mumbles as she slides her hand up and down his length.
“Shove me down. Take me. Please.”
He obeys, lust in his eyes as he pushes her down onto the mattress. She scoots back and spreads her legs, skirt riding up her hips as he hurriedly pulls his underwear off. The mattress creaks as he joins her, his mouth finding hers again. His erection rubs against her, teasing her. She spreads her legs farther, inviting him. “Okay,” he whispers as he takes hold of himself, “okay.”
He pushes in slowly, filling her, letting her body adjust around him.
“So good,” he mumbles, starting to rock against her slowly. He's watching their bodies come together. The bed creaks, and she focuses on the sound, focuses on the sound of his breaths and his moans. Sho goes faster, harder the more she clings to him, the more she gasps. She almost wants to tell him to slow down, to make sure it'll last longer since they'll have to forget this entirely come morning. But he's so hard, kissing sloppily but affectionately as he thrusts against her.
He moves her legs, bending them until her feet are level with her head so he can go deeper inside, and the new sensations rock through her body. She cries out, again and again as Sho groans closer to completion, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. He pulls out with a strangled cry, his come spilling warm and sticky on her stomach. He breathes heavily, stroking himself, almost laughing in his pleasure.
“Kyoko-chan,” he says in exhaustion, rolling off to lay on his back. “Kyoko-chan...”
Her legs are trembling as she lays them back flat against the mattress, body already feeling empty without him. He kisses her sweaty forehead and she opens her eyes, the bed creaking as he gets up a few moments later. He returns with tissue from the bathroom, cleaning her and mumbling apologetically.
She rolls onto her side with a contented grin, feeling him come up behind her. “Sorry for...”
Their bodies are both warm and sweaty, but she likes that he's staying. “Nothing to be sorry for...”
“Well, I meant sorry for this,” he says wickedly, moving his hand back between her thighs to start all over again.