Kis-My-Ft2, Fortune Favors the Bold

Title: Fortune Favors the Bold [Tamamori/Miyata]
Rating/Warnings: R for post-photoshoot frottage
Summary: Sometimes Miyata has these moments of boldness that work out shockingly well.
AN: You need to have seen these offshots for this to make the most amount of sense, proving once again that the best shit is the shit that I’m not even making up. Kisumai, never leave me. Wrote in a couple hours’ burst all at once as a direct result of being linked that image. And I feel like all my fic summaries should end with “and Fujigaya’s life is hard.”

Fortune Favors the Bold

Sometimes Miyata has these moments of boldness. He isn’t sure where they come from, his body just taking over without asking his brain’s consent. It surprises him just as much as everyone else when it does happen, more surprising still how often it works out to his advantage. Miyata supposes there’s something to be said for instinct.

He has one of those moments when they’re gathering together for the photoshoot. The staff woman comes out with a handful of red ribbon and a smile that’s more of a leer, and Miyata steps forward before he realizes what he’s doing, sliding neatly in between Tamamori and Fujigaya, close enough that his stomach is almost brushing Tamamori’s when they breathe.

“Eh?” asks Tamamori, eyebrows raising. The rest of the group is suddenly quiet, obviously as surprised as Tamamori. Not that Miyata is looking at them. The staff woman clears her throat, and Miyata turns his head to look her directly in the eye. He isn’t defiant, but he doesn’t show any trace of his usual sheepishness either.

After a long moment, the staff woman drops her eyes and clears her throat. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

Miyata can’t help but grin when he turns his attention back to Tamamori, totally pleased that he’s managed to claim and keep his spot next to his very favorite person. It isn’t until he hears Fujigaya hiss close to his ear “Don’t get used to it up here!” that he realizes what he’s actually done is sneak into the frontmen row without permission. Miyata Toshiya, otaku idol, will be front and center this issue.

“Oops?” he offers to Tamamori, totally unrepentant, as the staff starts winding the ribbon around them. Over Tamamori’s shoulder, Kitayama looks mildly amused, and to his right he hears some whispering between Nikaido and Senga which sounds like exactly the reason he’s supposed to be separating them.

“You,” is all Tamamori says, managing to convey in that single word gross and how do you even manage this shit and ugh, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you for a boyfriend all at once. He’s trying to keep from smiling, but Miyata can read him far too well for it to work on him.

Then the staff woman gives a yank of the ribbon that squishes them tightly together, and Miyata realizes the tiny flaw in his plan to be pressed against Tamamori: now he’s pressed against Tamamori.

Tamamori’s hands brush Miyata’s sides and stomach as he tries to figure out what to do with them, the front of his thighs bump teasingly against Miyata’s, and the air itself smells like Tamamori’s skin and deodorant when Miyata breathes. Miyata’s smile is faker than Hashimoto’s innocence after roughly two minutes, and when Tamamori heaves a put-upon sigh and everything rubs together, he has to swallow a groan.

It’s torture, but Miyata isn’t the M for nothing.

The staff woman orders Miyata to hold the ribbon a minute while she ties a bow, and that’s when Tamamori really ups the ante. While she’s distracted, Tamamori’s hands settle on Miyata’s waist in the guise of shifting his position, and he leans in just enough to whisper in Miyata’s ear.

“You’re totally enjoying this.” Tamamori’s nose brushes Miyata’s cheek, so lightly, and it’s all Miyata can do not to moan right there. “You are gonna get it later~.”

And as much trouble as they’re going to be in if Tamamori does just one more questionable thing, Miyata couldn’t say whether he’s looking forward to later more than he’s enjoying that particular moment.

“The fuck,” Fujigaya hisses. “Knock it off! Both of you!”

“Ow!” Senga says. “Quit pinching me, I’m not doing anything!”

“Oops, sorry,” Fujigaya says, back to normal volume, but he doesn’t sound terribly sincere.

“Yeah, back off, that’s my job,” Nikaido puts in, then yelps himself. Miyata guesses that Kitayama’s doing a little pinching of his own, even though he can’t see it, and there’s a minor scuffle that nearly tips the whole group over.

“Ladies, please?” Yokoo says dryly, leaning back against the ribbon with his weight to keep the group level. “A little decorum, if you don’t mind.”

Miyata is giggling, the only available outlet for the way being pressed against Tamamori for this long has his adrenaline running. He tries to keep it to a minimum, but Tamamori’s attempt at a stern look only sets him off more. His skin is buzzing, making him long for more direct contact, and the fleeting touches of the others around him as they shift and have their hands repositioned is only making it worse.

Good thing it is Tamamori he’s pressed against, since his interest must be pretty plain by now. It’d be hard to miss, even, Miyata thinks, then starts snickering at himself all over again.

By the time it’s all over, they haven’t been yelled at much more than usual, and Miyata has hopes he might actually look pretty cool during his one (and likely only) trip to the front row. He tries to think about that, and not how his skin is still tingling from all the teasing, as they head back to change.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Tamamori’s fingers close tight around his wrist.

“Bathroom,” Tamamori orders, his voice low but saying he’s not fucking around. “Right now.”

“Yes sir!” Miyata agrees, changing direction without a second’s hesitation.

They’re barely through the door when Tamamori slams it shut by shoving Miyata up against it. Miyata gets hands in Tamamori’s hair and pulls his face down for a kiss, messy and desperate. His hands only stay there a moment, though, before he starts dragging them down, over Tamamori’s arms, his back, his sides. Tamamori hands are roaming over him just as possessively, and Miyata feels like he’s burning everywhere Tamamori touches, already on edge from being teased so long.

“Tama,” he groans softly, trying to at least keep the noise low. He presses his mouth against Tamamori’s jaw, down his neck, and Tamamori is not trying nearly so hard to stay quiet. “Shh,” he scolds, even as he licks the hollow of Tamamori’s throat and makes him moan sweetly. “Tama, oh, Tama…”

“Shut up,” Tamamori answers, cheeks flushed and pupils wide. “Touch me already, geez.”

Tamamori’s comfortable drawstring pants are easy enough to shove out of the way, but Miyata’s belt is more of a struggle with the distraction of Tamamori touching him all over and moaning in his ear. The minute it takes his fumbling fingers to undo it feels like it lasts about three years, but then finally Miyata frees himself so that Tamamori can rub against him directly.

“God that feels so good,” Miyata sighs, pleasure forcing his eyes shut. Tamamori presses his hips as tightly as he can against Miyata’s and then rolls them together. The pulse of it goes right up Miyata’s spine like chaser lights, and he curls arms tight around Tamamori’s waist to keep him right there.

Tamamori’s hands find Miyata’s hips and squeeze to hold him steady, tight enough he might leave marks, not quite low enough to be totally safe. The thought makes Miyata groan against Tamamori’s throat and snap his hips up. He uncurls one of his hands that’s resting against the small of Tamamori’s back and drags his fingers down further, over the bump of Tamamori’s tailbone, then further still.

“Ah!” Surprised by the intimate touch, Tamamori digs his nails into Miyata’s skin, and Miyata comes in a hot rush between them, the sting of Tamamori’s grip converted directly into sharp pleasure by Miyata’s over-stimulated skin.

He’s mumbling Tamamori’s name over and over again, Miyata realizes when he gathers some of his wits back together, but Tamamori seems too far gone to care. He’s making a steady stream of low, gorgeous noises right in Miyata’s ear, and Miyata can’t wait to drag Tamamori home at the end of the day so Tamamori can make more of them, only much louder.

“I am gonna keep you up all night,” Miyata promises, wanting to feel Tamamori lose it against him. “You’re gonna make so much noise for me…”

Tamamori’s breath catches, wet heat blooming over Miyata’s stomach, and then Tamamori slumps bonelessly against Miyata, the door holding them both up. Miyata strokes soothing hands down Tamamori’s spine and rubs his cheek against Tamamori’s shoulder as Tamamori shudders himself out, humming almost inaudibly in contentment.

Momentary contentment. He wasn’t kidding about the all night and the so much noise.

“Ugh,” Tamamori groans. “This is why you can’t be in the front row, idiot. Move, you’re rubbing your grossness all over me.”

“You’re pinning me to the door,” Miyata reminds helpfully. “And at least half of this grossness is actually yours. Mm, but if we stay like this we might get stuck together~.”

“Ew, that really is gross,” Tamamori says, pushing himself back by bracing his hands on the door. His wrinkled nose is cute, though, so Miyata tolerates the separation. He lifts a hand to push Tamamori’s mussed hair back from his face, and Tamamori’s eyes fall half-shut. “Mmm, Toshiya. Quit it, I’m surprised Gaya isn’t already in here, bitching at us.”

A little frisson of pleasure works over Miyata’s skin, and he rewards Tamamori’s use of his given name with a quick, sweet kiss. He files away a mental note to definitely return the favor, later.

They are all a mess, but they’re in a bathroom after all, so they even manage to spare their photoshoot clothing any damage. They try to look casual as they slink back into the changing area, but it probably couldn’t fool a fresh junior, much less their own unit.

“That was quite the bathroom break,” Fujigaya says, voice chilly.

“Ehehe.” Miyata grins, eyes scrunching up. “Too much tea?”

“Yeah,” Nikaido snorts, “Miya-Tea.”

“Oi!” Tamamori narrows his eyes and darts a hand out to snap Nikaido’s underwear elastic against his skin. Nikaido hops with an “Eep!” then turns immediately to do it to Senga, eyes a-gleam with discovery.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kitayama warns when they both look his way. He does nothing but watch when they turn to Fujigaya instead and snap him firmly with his own leopard print.

“Fuck every single one of you!” Fujigaya hollers, chasing Nikaido and Senga off with slapping hands, both of them cackling in glee. “I’m quitting! I’m transferring to A.B.C.-Z!”

“Yes,” Yokoo says mildly, hanging up his clothes without glancing over, “I suppose not wearing any underwear would solve that problem nicely.”

While everyone else is distracted, Tamamori looks down and notices Fujigaya’s bag lying open on the table in front of him. He reaches into it and rummages around for a second before pulling out a pair of handcuffs that are (hopefully) from drama filming. Tamamori raises an eyebrow, and when Miyata doesn’t voice any protest, drops them casually into his own bag instead.

That’s why they make such a great team, Miyata thinks to himself as he strips off his shoot clothing, grinning broadly. Because sometimes Tamamori has his moments of boldness too.

“Call me when you want the key to those,” Kitayama murmurs in an undertone, just to Miyata.

“Will do, officer,” Miyata replies jauntily, feeling bolder all the time.