Kis-My-Ft2, Bet Your Sweet Ass

Title: Bet Your Sweet Ass [Kitayama/Tamamori]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Tamamori and Kitayama have a regular bet riding on the outcome of Busaiku rankings and the bet’s not the only thing riding.
Notes: Written for 2013 JE Holiday exchange, for daiyamainoo who wanted Kitayama/Tamamori. Happy holidays!

Bet Your Sweet Ass

“Hey,” Tamamori says when they’re packing up from Busaiku filming. Kitayama looks up from zipping his jeans, and Tamamori is leaning against the counter, looking entirely too casual.

“Something you want?” Kitayama asks. He could pretend Tamamori’s subtlety works, but why.

Tamamori’s eyes flash a little because he doesn’t like being seen through, but then maybe he should stop being so easy to read. “Let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” Kitayama repeats. “About what?”

“Rankings,” Tamamori says. Kitayama just waits because he is tired and ready to go home and has no patience left for Tamamori’s one-word-answer game. “On whose sketch ranks higher when we film the reveal.”

“And what’s the wager?” Kitayama asks. He’s pretty sure he knows, given the way Tamamori’s curling his body to show off the length of his torso.

“Winner tops loser,” Tamamori says.

“Really?” Kitayama asks. “Seriously, Tama-chan, why don’t you go play with Fujigaya or something, shoo. Heck, go to Miyacchi or Ken-chan, they won’t even make you wait until filming.”

“Gaya’s no fun,” Tamamori says, ignoring the other half of his sentences completely. “Because he’s always first or second, he wins too much. You’re the only one who might be anywhere on the board. Come on,” Tamamori encourages, reaching over to drag fingers down the front of Kitayama’s arm lightly. “You don’t want to?”

Kitayama shrugs. Tamamori pouts at him. They stare at each other.

“Fine,” he says, ending their deadlock. What’s it to him if Tamamori wants to get laid? Kitayama can be as competitive as anybody if he wants to be. “But has to be at my place either way, I’ll be damned if any sex I’m involved in gets recorded by the cameras Miyacchi has hidden around your place.”

“That’s not funny,” Tamamori scowls. Kitayama keeps staring at him evenly until Tamamori’s mouth twitches. “Shut up, you’re a liar.”

Kitayama smirks a little, and then shoulders his bag, brushing by Tamamori. Behind him he hears Tamamori holler Miyata’s name, and laughs to himself the whole way outside.

He doesn’t give it much thought in the time between one filming and the next, but Kitayama will admit that it’s raising his tension a little bit when he’s sitting on the couch with his Busaiku tag on, Tamamori catching his eye every now and again.

“What’s up with you?” Yokoo asks before the cameras are on.

“Have a pretty good feeling about this week, is all,” Kitayama answers. He’s pretty sure he nailed this one. He clearly feels more confident than Nikaido on the other side of the couch, who is squishing the blue pillow between his hands nervously like usual until Fujigaya snaps that they might as well sew a picture of Senga’s face right on that thing.

But as soon as filming starts, Nikaido comes in third what the hell and then it goes straight downhill after that. At least Kitayama isn’t dead last, but when the final reveal is Tamamori vs Miyata, Kitayama knows that he’s boned.

Literally.

“Whatever,” he says afterwards, when Tamamori strolls up, smirking so wide probably everybody else can tell what their bet is just by looking. “Hurry up and get your stuff, you can shower at my place.”

Tamamori is fidgety the whole way home, making Kitayama raise an eyebrow. Sure, it’s been a while since the two of them have fooled around, but it’s not like they’ve never done it. And Kitayama’s intel is that Tamamori’s had a discreet string of cute actress girlfriends, so he’s not sure what the big deal is.

“What’s up with you?” Kitayama asks as they’re going up in his building’s elevator.

“Hm?” Tamamori glances over at him, then back to the display showing which floor they’re passing. “Nothing. Ready for…you know.”

Kitayama can’t help but laugh at that. “You sound like a junior high student trying to get my bra off. Has it been really long for you or something?”

“What? No!” Tamamori says, bristling. “I have sex all the time!”

Kitayama’s neighbor lady raises her eyebrow, and Kitayama can only laugh harder as Tamamori notices the elevator door opened while he was shouting that.

“You Johnny’s,” the neighbor says, half mildly exasperated and half resigned. “Try and keep it out of the tabloids, okay, boys?” she scolds as she steps into the elevator, and Tamamori splutters while Kitayama has to put his hands on his knees to keep from falling over.

A minute later, Tamamori’s fingers are tight around Kitayama’s wrist, dragging him firmly to the door, and Kitayama can definitely work with that. Irritated, bossy Tamamori is kind of hot, plus he does a lot more of the work. They’re barely through the door when Tamamori presses Kitayama up against the wall in his genkan. Kitayama fumbles for the door handle to yank it shut, before his neighbors start reporting them to the tabloids directly.

Tamamori’s mouth is on Kitayama’s before he can ask any questions. It’s hot and a little rough, and it makes a shiver run over Kitayama’s skin. It’s been a while for him, actually, too much work and not enough play lately, so maybe the noise he makes when Tamamori’s hands work under his shirt is a little needy. Tamamori seems to like it, though, if the way his fingers dig in harder is any indication.

When he lifts his head, Tamamori’s cheeks are pink and his eyes are dark. If Kitayama weren’t already breathing a little fast, he might start; maybe there’s a reason this kid comes in first or second nearly every damn week on their stupid show.

“Want to shower first?” Tamamori asks. He’s breathing a little hard himself, and Kitayama thinks it’s nice of him to offer even though it’s a bit KY for the mood they have going.

“Shower after,” Kitayama decides, which sounds good in theory but is patently ridiculous since he has never once crawled out of bed to do anything after sex in his entire life. Tamamori doesn’t question it, though, merely grabs Kitayama’s wrist and tugs him along towards his bed.

They strip off their clothes on the way, Kitayama dropping his shirts in a heap and shoving his pants down to join them. Tamamori is slower, fumbling with his buttons and looking around for a spot to hang his shirt up so he doesn’t wrinkle it.

“How do you want to do it?” Tamamori asks, settling for draping his shirt over the back of Kitayama’s chair. He tosses his pants over top, and it’s hard for Kitayama not to laugh at him when he’s got such a serious look on his face along with just his briefs and socks.

“You won, you pick,” Kitayama tells him. He strips his own underwear off and sits on the edge of the bed, waiting.

“On your back,” Tamamori decides. Kitayama scoots back to flop down willingly, totally fine with however vanilla Tamamori wants it so long as he gets to be horizontal.

He’s mildly surprised when Tamamori crawls over top of him and leans in for a kiss, this one in a lot less of a hurry than the first one. Kitayama had thought this was just about getting laid, but he likes kissing and it’s easy to relax into it, to let Tamamori brush fingers over his jaw and up through his hair.

“Hey,” Kitayama murmurs after a couple minutes. “Gonna fall asleep on you if you keep doing it like that.”

Tamamori sits up on one elbow to see, stroking the other hand through Kitayama’s hair more deliberately. “Like that?”

“Mmhmm.” Kitayama’s eyes flutter shut. Tamamori’s fingers feel good. He feels a bit sorry when those fingers leave his hair and start sliding down his chest instead. That’s good too, but he wasn’t kidding. “Hurry up, Tama-chan.”

“Shut up, I haven’t got to play with you in ages,” is Tamamori’s retort. Kitayama cracks an eye at that to find Tamamori looking down at his body in concentration as he runs his hands over Kitayama’s skin. “I’ve forgotten all your spots.”

“I haven’t forgotten yours,” Kitayama says, reaching up to skim fingers along the bottom of Tamamori’s ribs. Tamamori hisses a breath, narrowing his eyes.

“No fair,” he says, and Kitayama takes pity on him. He puts his hands over top of Tamamori’s and moves one up, to his collarbone, and the other down to his hip. When Tamamori swipes both spots with his thumbs, Kitayama gives a showy moan of encouragement. Tamamori narrows his eyes. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, I like it,” Kitayama insists. “But seriously, get the stuff and let’s go, I really will fall asleep on you.” He flops a hand over towards his nightstand, out of reach. Tamamori frowns at him a little, but does shift over to open the drawer. He tosses a tube of lube and a condom on the blankets, and Kitayama nearly laughs in his face because Tamamori chose cherry-flavored.

Tamamori’s fingers feel just as good trailing down inside Kitayama’s thighs, and Kitayama helpfully picks one leg up, planting his foot on the bed. He’s relaxed enough that Tamamori gets the first finger in without much fuss, and can put their length to good use.

“Keep doing that,” Kitayama orders, back arching. “Can never reach myself, mmm, Tama-chan.”

“Good?” Tamamori asks, and Kitayama hums another yes. He closes his eyes and gets really into it as Tamamori adds the second one. It’s a shame they made a bet on this because what Kitayama really wants to ask Tamamori to do is to go down on him while he just gets off on Tamamori’s fingers.

Tamamori finishes prepping him and pulls his fingers free, making Kitayama grunt in displeasure. He opens his eyes to watch Tamamori roll the condom on, and he guesses Tamamori’s cock will do. It sure feels long enough when Tamamori is pushing it in, and Kitayama takes deep, slow breaths and concentrates on the ceiling until Tamamori’s face slides into view, blocking it.

“Okay?” Tamamori asks anxiously.

“Yeah,” Kitayama says, and it’s mostly true. He lifts his hands to grip Tamamori’s shoulders, using the leverage to help him shift his hips up a little. “Better.”

Tamamori rocks his hips in and out slowly, watching Kitayama’s face. He gives a “Hmph,” of satisfaction when he spreads his own knees enough to find the most comfortable angle for Kitayama and braces himself on his elbows to keep it.

“Can’t kiss you like this,” Kitayama complains, which makes Tamamori snort a laugh for some reason. Tamamori presses a kiss to Kitayama’s sternum, leaves them pressed there while he starts to move more quickly, and Kitayama lets his head fall back against the pillow and figures whatever.

Tamamori fucks him deep and not particularly fast, and Kitayama is all about how that feels, his body clenching tight around Tamamori on every upstroke as if trying to keep him there.

“Feels so good,” Tamamori mutters against Kitayama’s chest, and Kitayama grunts his agreement. Heat is spreading all through him, relaxing all his muscles and making his nerves buzz. His cock is hard and leaking between their stomachs, the friction not enough to get him close to coming but still good.

Tamamori goes longer than Kitayama would have given him credit for, but he’s still the one who comes first, thrusting deep into Kitayama a few last times unevenly before shuddering all over and flopping down on Kitayama’s chest, breathing harshly.

“Fuck,” he says weakly, and Kitayama is tempting to echo it because he would be perfectly happy to keep Tamamori hard inside his ass for quite a bit longer. This is why they always used to have to play in a group. His cock twitches, pressed between their stomachs, and Tamamori whines a little. “Gimme a sec.”

“Take all the time you want,” Kitayama says sarcastically. “No rush. I’m not going anywhere or anything.”

“Okay, okay!” Tamamori groans, like Kitayama is the one causing the problem here, but he does push himself up onto his hands and knees so Kitayama bites down on his next comment. He shifts down to Kitayama’s waist, only pausing to strip the condom off and tie it off. Then he resettles on his elbows, and it looks like Kitayama will be getting part of his wish anyway.

Tamamori swallows half of Kitayama at once, which Kitayama would be impressed about if he weren’t busy moaning and clutching at his blankets because he’s been hard for ages already and it feels so fucking good. He isn’t even sure whether he wants Tamamori to try and take more or to pull back and suck at his head, brain long past those sorts of choices. Tamamori goes for the second option, using one hand to squeeze around Kitayama’s shaft as he drags his tongue up over the bottom over Kitayama’s head and through the slit.

“Shit, Tama-chan,” Kitayama gasps, wondering if maybe there’s been a couple cute actors mixed in with the actresses, because Tamamori was not this good last time. He fondles Kitayama’s balls with those long fingers, and that’s just about the last straw. Kitayama groans a warning, or groans something at least, and then he’s coming in Tamamori’s mouth, hard enough that he’s a little dizzy when Tamamori finally pulls away, shaking with aftershocks.

Maybe it’s been a little too long, Kitayama thinks ruefully. He should take better care of himself.

“Still want to kiss me?” Tamamori asks as he sits up, and to Kitayama’s surprise after all of that Tamamori looks a little shy.

“Come here already,” is his answer, keeping to himself how he finds the reminder of a younger, less confident Tamamori cute. He likes grown up Tamamori just fine, but the Tamamori with his hair all in his eyes who needed Kitayama’s help and comfort, he misses that Tamamori sometimes.

Tamamori flops down on Kitayama’s chest, driving those thoughts away with the whoosh of air being squashed out of his lungs. “Sorry,” Tamamori murmurs, then he kisses Kitayama without waiting for a response.

It’s nice, gentle and warm and unhurried, Tamamori’s fingers working their way back into Kitayama’s hair, and Kitayama hums his approval. Drowsy as he feels, Kitayama’s almost sorry when the kiss breaks and Tamamori shifts to the side so he isn’t crushing Kitayama.

“You aren’t getting up for a shower, are you?” Tamamori asks.

“Nope,” Kitayama answers. He rolls onto his side and relaxes with a sigh, perfectly content just like that. He hears Tamamori laugh a little and feels the shift of the bed as Tamamori gets up, then hears the noise of water running in the bathroom. Figuring Tamamori’s cleaning himself up, he’s surprised a minute later when he feels Tamamori’s touch on his hip.

“Should clean up, at least,” Tamamori says when Kitayama opens his eyes. The touch of the warm washcloth is soothing, and Kitayama lets Tamamori do as he wills. Tamamori cleans up not just the mess between his legs, but runs the cloth over the sweat drying on Kitayama’s chest and arms, and that feels pretty nice too. Tamamori even tugs the blankets free and tucks them around Kitayama.

“Thanks,” Kitayama says, and means it, because his last one-night stand hadn’t been nearly so considerate. Tamamori just nods, smiling that shy smile again. and then disappears back into the bathroom.

Kitayama is mostly asleep by the time Tamamori comes back from his shower and climbs into bed behind Kitayama.

“It’s okay if I stay, right?” he asks, whispering loudly like he isn’t sure whether Kitayama is awake or not.

“Course,” Kitayama tells him. Tamamori shifts around a little, and then Kitayama feels Tamamori’s hand on his side. When he doesn’t protest, Tamamori slides in closer, arm sliding over Kitayama’s waist properly.

“We can bet again next filming, right?” Tamamori asks, and that’s when Kitayama understands that this isn’t a one-night stand at all.

It takes him two more filmings to win one, and Kitayama’s victory smugness is not at all affected by how sour Tamamori is about the whole situation.

“If you want somebody who never loses, go back to Miyacchi,” Kitayama informs him, and Tamamori drops his eyes and grumbles no. “Fine, then, let’s go.”

He spends the trip home thinking of all the things he could ask Tamamori to do, but in the end he flops across his bed like usual, sprawling on his back. Tamamori raises an eyebrow.

“You know you won, right?” he asks.

Kitayama grins and points at his lap. “Yup. So you’re gonna ride me.”

Tamamori looks so good above him like that, skin flushed from effort, thighs trembling under Kitayama’s hands, back arched and one hand wrapped tight around his cock while Kitayama pounds up into him. When his legs finally do give out, Kitayama is so close that he just growls for Tamamori to finish himself off, so that he can come with Tamamori squeezing tight and hot around him.

Tamamori can barely push himself off to roll onto his back, thigh muscles shaking when Kitayama reaches over to rub at them.

“Too much?” Kitayama asks. He’s not sorry or anything, a bet’s a bet, but then again he’ll definitely get it from both the choreographer and Fujigaya if he damaged their prince for work tomorrow.

Shaking his head, Tamamori rolls onto his side to cuddle against Kitayama’s side, and Kitayama rubs his back slowly, up and down, until Tamamori can be talked into taking a bath. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, for Tamamori, and eventually Kitayama asks if everything is all right.

“Hm? Yeah.” Tamamori shrugs, swirling his fingers through the water to make it ripple. He glances up at Kitayama with a smile that’s obviously meant to be self-deprecating, like he learned it from Miyata or something. “I just can’t believe you won that damn thing.”

“Hey, hey,” Kitayama protests. He knows that’s not it exactly, but he’s not going to drag whatever it is out of Tamamori either. “Feel better now? Your muscles.”

“Yeah,” Tamamori says, and that does get a more real smile out of him. “Thanks. Can we go to bed now?”

“Just what I was thinking,” Kitayama says with approval. When they climb out, he makes a big show of drying Tamamori off, complaining loudly about somebody getting his bed all wet, but he doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied Tamamori isn’t lying about his condition. He’s caught off-guard when Tamamori hugs him suddenly, and it takes a second before he thinks to respond, wrapping his arms around Tamamori’s waist. It feels nice, to be skin-to-skin when they’re both warm and clean, a different nice from being naked together for sex.

Tamamori steps back from the hug as quickly as he started it, and shuffles off to Kitayama’s bed like nothing weird just happened. Kitayama shrugs it off and follows; when he climbs in, Tamamori’s already curled up on his side of the bed, back facing the middle. Kitayama hesitates a second, then slides in to curl up along Tamamori’s back, making him startle a little because it’s always Tamamori who initiates that. Tamamori makes a soft noise of contentment, and Kitayama closes his eyes to drift off just like that.

Their arrangement goes on like that for long enough that Kitayama lose count of how often it’s happened (although not of who is winning, because that is definitely Tamamori). He doesn’t care much either way though; even when he ‘loses’ he still gets sex and cuddling out of it. That’s more than he ever gets from Maiko even when he wins.

Eventually, though real life gets in the way, and when his lawyer drama starts filming on top of Dome concert preparation, Kitayama simply can’t keep up. That’s the week where Kitayama cuts off Tamamori as soon as he strolls up after filming, before he gets a single word out.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “With drama filming, I can’t. Sorry, Tama-chan.”

“O-oh.” Tamamori’s expression flickers for a second, then he shrugs it off. “No worries, I understand. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Maybe next week,” Kitayama says, trying to sound apologetic when really he can’t feel any emotion besides exhaustion at the moment. Tamamori shuffles back over to bully Miyata into hanging out with him instead, and Kitayama goes home to crash.

The next week is hardly any better, and the week after that. When drama filming ends and Kitayama can function again, he realizes that Tamamori hasn’t even asked him about it in a little while. He thinks about bringing it up, even opens his mouth to do it as they walk off set, but Tamamori is already calling loudly for Fujigaya to hurry up so they can get to their shopping date before the stores close.

Kitayama figures it was a game that ran its course, no hard feelings. Sure, he misses the routine of it, now that’s he’s rested enough to miss anything besides sleep itself. Lying in his bed that night, he finds it weirdly hard to sleep, mind drifting back to Tamamori’s long fingers and cute frown, the way Tamamori’s hair falls in his eyes and looks so good how he’s been keeping it dark, how sometimes Tamamori lets him do anything he likes and other times turns totally dominant and just takes whatever he wants himself.

Maybe he isn’t so happy the game is over, Kitayama starts to realize.

He’s almost asleep, much later than he wanted to be thanks to his stupid brain, when his phone rings. Growling a curse, Kitayama reaches for it to just mute it, but then realizes it’s Fujigaya’s name on the display. It’s not like that guy to call in the middle of the night unless it’s something really serious, and suddenly adrenaline rushes through Kitayama’s limbs as he thumbs the screen to answer it.

“What, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“You idiot,” Fujigaya says. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with Tama-chan?”

“What?” Kitayama blinks, totally confused. “I’m not doing anything with him, he went home with you.”

“Exactly!” Fujigaya insists. “Are you just toying with him or what?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Kitayama demands, collapsing onto his back with a groan. “Fuck you, I thought you were calling me to say somebody was hurt or something!”

“Tama-chan is,” Fujigaya says bluntly. “You can’t possibly be unaware he has a gigantic crush on you, can you?”

“I…what?” Kitayama asks stupidly.

“Oh my god.” Fujigaya heaves a sigh like Kitayama is too stupid to live. “You really thought you were just betting over Busaiku rankings, didn’t you? You sorry bastard.”

Realization starts to creep in, and Kitayama feels like maybe he is too stupid to live. “Tama…likes me?”

“No, you idiot, not likes you like there’s a cute girl in the class across the hall. He likes you like he hasn’t been fucking anybody but you for months and months. He likes you. And he just spent all night telling me how he can’t possibly tell you when you obviously don’t think about him as anything other than a casual piece of hot ass, so will you please do something about it?”

“Like what?” Kitayama asks on autopilot.

“Like tell him you like him too!” Fujigaya pauses. “You know that you like him too…right?” There’s an even longer pause. “Fucking Watta was so right about this, I should have definitely let Ken-chan handle you. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Repeat after me: I like Tamamori.”

Kitayama rolls his eyes. “I’m not–”

“NOW.”

“I like Tamamori,” Kitayama says, and he means it to come out snide, but it just doesn’t. Frowning, he tries again. “I like Tamamori.” Something is going on in the center of his chest, and Kitayama doesn’t understand what it is.

“Okay, but actually listen to yourself, properly,” Fujigaya counsels.

“I like Tama…” And then Kitayama understands exactly what it is, why his chest feels tight and skin feels warm and why he doesn’t care if he never ever wins a first place ranking. “Oh fuck, I like Tamamori.”

“Yes,” Fujigaya agrees emphatically. “Now please do something about it because if anybody’s going to be the hot emo tragic prince around here, it’s sure not going to be Tamamori fucking Yuta, got it?”

“It’s sure not gonna be you, Kamen Troll.”

“I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that, since obviously you are occupied figuring out things about yourself the rest of us managed during puberty,” Fujigaya sniffs. “Assuming your testicles did actually drop at some point, please gather them together and call Tamamori to report your findings directly to him.”

“I’m going to report my foot directly to your–” Kitayama starts, but Fujigaya has already hung up. He insults the phone some more, because it makes him feel better, before he tosses it aside and curls up under his blankets crankily.

Five minutes crawl by, so incredibly slowly, and then Kitayama heaves a sigh and reaches for his phone again.

[If you aren’t asleep yet, you could come over right now if you wanted to.]

He doesn’t get a mail back right away, and after a couple minutes Kitayama figures Tamamori really is asleep, or at least he isn’t going to get an answer. Dropping his phone on his bedside table, Kitayama rolls over onto his side and tries to ignore the tangle of his thoughts to try and get to sleep.

The buzz of his intercom startles him out of a doze, and Kitayama squints into the darkness, trying to figure out if he dreamt the noise. A few seconds later, he guesses he must not have imagined it when his phone chimes too.

[You had better not be asleep after I came the whole way over here] Tamamori’s mail reads, and Kitayama almost falls on his face trying to scramble out of his bed to go buzz Tamamori in.

When Kitayama opens the door, Tamamori’s cheeks are pink from the cold, and Kitayama winces from the burst of cold air that comes in with him before he can shove the door shut again. Tamamori stands there, making no move to come further inside, looking at Kitayama expectantly.

“I…you know, before…” Kitayama puffs his cheeks in annoyance at how this was a lot easier to say to Fujigaya than to Tamamori himself. “I wish we hadn’t stopped it.”

“This is the worst booty call ever,” Tamamori informs him flatly. “I’m telling manager-san.”

“It’s not a booty call!” Kitayama protests, then thinks of his neighbors and lowers his voice. “I don’t want it to be a booty call. You like me, right?”

“Nuh-uh.” Tamamori crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Kitayama. “You first.”

Kitayama almost shuffles his feet, but then he takes a deep breath and pulls himself together. He manages to look Tamamori in the eye while he says simply, “I like you. At least, I think I do. I liked it better when you were here more. I like it when you’re with me.”

Tamamori’s expression relaxes into a smile that’s just a little shy at the edges. “Really?” Kitayama nods. “Good, because I like being with you too.”

Tamamori is still standing a step down in the genkan, which makes it really easy for Kitayama to lean over and kiss him. Tamamori’s hands come up to press against Kitayama’s cheeks, still cold enough to make Kitayama shiver, but he doesn’t pull away. The rest of him is warm enough, heart speeding up as Tamamori’s mouth moves against his. He reaches blindly to get his hands on Tamamori’s waist and pulls him closer, humming as Tamamori’s fingers slip back to brush through his hair.

Eventually the kiss breaks, but they don’t move, their face barely far enough apart to look at each other without their eyes crossing.

“Yeah,” Kitayama says softly. “I definitely like you.”

“Okay,” Tamamori says. “Good.” After another second he adds, “It’s okay if it’s a booty call now.”

Kitayama starts laughing and can’t stop, still chuckling even as he presses another kiss to Tamamori’s lips. He means it to be quick, but Tamamori drags him closer and wraps arms tight around his neck to hold him there, kissing him like he’s trying to make up for the weeks of lost time together.

“Come on,” Kitayama finally says, pulling back with some effort. Tamamori holds on stubbornly, and he has to reach up to untangle Tamamori’s hands from the back of his neck. He squeezes Tamamori’s hands as he pulls them away. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Fiiiine,” Tamamori sighs, kicking his shoes off with exaggerated struggle, like it’s a chore. He has to drop one hand when Kitayama turns around to lead the way, but he holds on tightly with the other hand, lacing their fingers together. Kitayama squeezes his hand back, thinking with some amusement that they’ve been fucking each other for weeks, but this is the first time they’ve held hands.

Tamamori has a lot more clothes to strip off than Kitayama does, since all Kitayama has to do is kick off his pajama pants before he sits on his bed. Caught in his tangle of layered shirts, Tamamori doesn’t notice that Kitayama is watching openly until his head pops free half a minute later. His cheeks color a little, but he holds Kitayama’s gaze directly as he unzips his jeans and shoves them off.

“How do you want it?” Kitayama asks. He leans back a little on his hands, offering. “Do you want me?”

Tamamori opens his mouth, but then hesitates. “Is that the way you like it? Which way…”

“Both are good,” Kitayama assures. “I like both, with you.”

He’s not expecting Tamamori to drop to his knees suddenly, to wrap a hand around his cock and start stroking him to hardness. Kitayama surely isn’t arguing though, because Tamamori’s fingers feel strong and warm, and that’s before Tamamori leans in to lick at his tip. Kitayama puts his hand on the back of Tamamori’s head to thread fingers through his hair, gently encouraging for Tamamori to take more.

“Feels really good,” he says, voice low. Tamamori looks up and that makes it all the hotter, his dark eyes watching for Kitayama’s reactions as he swallows more of his cock past wet, pink lips. Kitayama brushes Tamamori’s bangs out of his eyes to see more of them, because he wants to see everything. “Wow, I can’t wait to do this to you.”

Tamamori sucks him harder in response to that, hard enough that his cheeks hollow, and Kitayama can’t hold back a moan. He wants to let Tamamori keep going, to keep doing that until he drives Kitayama over the edge, but Kitayama uses his grip in Tamamori’s hair to tug him back gently. There’s a lot of other things he wants to do.

“You should definitely have me,” he tells Tamamori. Tamamori’s pout turns into a grin, licking his puffy bottom lip in a way that makes Kitayama’s fingers curl tighter in his hair.

Kitayama stretches out on his back as Tamamori crawls onto the bed properly and over top of Kitayama. He settles on his elbows to kiss Kitayama, unhurried, rolling their hips slowly together. Kitayama’s cock is rubbing against Tamamori’s stomach, making the heat between them spread all over Kitayama’s skin. He drags his hands down Tamamori’s back, fingers digging into Tamamori’s muscles until Tamamori is moaning softly into Kitayama’s mouth.

“Please, come on,” Kitayama says when he can’t take it anymore. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Make you wait?” Tamamori snorts softly, but he sits up to get the lube and a condom from Kitayama’s bedside table. Kitayama spreads his legs, flushing even warmer when Tamamori looks him over deliberately, spread out just for him. Tamamori traces little swirls along the inside of Kitayama’s thigh with just his fingertips, so lightly. “I should make you beg.”

“Please,” Kitayama murmurs, arching into the touch, trying to push up against Tamamori’s touch. Tamamori only pulls his hand back the same way, keeping his touch just as light. “Please, please, please.” When Tamamori still doesn’t give in right away, Kitayama hooks his hands under his knees and pulls his legs back to expose himself totally. “I want you so much, please.”

“Hmm,” Tamamori says, like he’s still thinking about it, but it’s easy to read on his face how pleased he is at what Kitayama’s offering him. “Well, if you want it that much…”

Kitayama doesn’t argue, just lets his body answer for him as Tamamori’s first finger meets basically no resistance. He’s a little surprised himself how badly he does want it, but then again he was getting laid pretty regularly before his self-imposed dry spell of a couple weeks. Plus Tamamori still has those amazing fingers.

“More,” Kitayama says, closing his eyes and really getting into it, rocking down against Tamamori’s hand. Tamamori is pressing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of Kitayama’s knee and down his inner thigh, and each soft, wet touch drives Kitayama higher, until he’s fisting his hands in his sheets. When Tamamori pulls his hand free to get the condom on, Kitayama all but growls his displeasure.

“If you even come early on me,” he threatens, which makes Tamamori laugh for some reason.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been practicing,” Tamamori assures. Kitayama’s response to that is interrupted by Tamamori pushing in, fast and a little rough and exactly where Kitayama wants him. “Fuck yes, I missed you.”

“Don’t talk to my ass, weirdo,” Kitayama says, but it’s breathless. He can’t tear his eyes away from Tamamori’s face as Tamamori bottoms out and sorts out where his elbows and knees are going to go. Tamamori’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dark and a little glassy, like when he’s drunk, his mouth open as he tries to catch his own breath.

“Keep looking at me like that,” Tamamori encourages as he starts to move. Kitayama hadn’t realized he was doing it a particular way, but he tries anyway, glad to see Tamamori above him and not wanting anybody else. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Mmm,” Kitayama groans his appreciation when Tamamori pulls his knees in a little more against Kitayama’s ass. It turns his thrusts deeper, just where Kitayama likes him best, and he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and lean his head back, arching into it.

“Look so good underneath me,” Tamamori pants, breathing getting rougher. Kitayama gropes for his shoulders blindly and squeezes them, fingers digging into Tamamori’s skin. He knows he shouldn’t leave marks on that pale skin, but he wants to, wants everybody to know who’s been touching Tamamori. The harder he does it, the louder Tamamori moans, a vicious cycle that Kitayama’s not interested in breaking.

But it can’t last forever, and eventually Tamamori breaks out of Kitayama’s grip to set back on his knees, wrapping those long, gorgeous fingers around Kitayama’s cock to jerk him off, still flexing his hips to move inside Kitayama’s ass.

“You really aren’t gonna look?” Tamamori asks, making Kitayama moan something incomprehensible. “Looks so good. Come for me, I’m so close, come on.”

“Need more practice,” Kitayama accuses, but it’s high-pitched because he’s so close himself, right on the edge. He teeters there for a long minute before finally falling over the edge, orgasm making his toes curl as he clenches tight around Tamamori. He’s still gasping for air when he hears Tamamori groan his release, just before Tamamori flops down on Kitayama’s chest.

Kitayama flops a hand against Tamamori’s hair, trying for stroking but only managing a clumsy pat. Tamamori makes a long, low noise that sounds like happiness.

“Need a position we can kiss in,” Kitayama grumbles, which makes Tamamori laugh a little drunkenly. “Shut up, I can fuck anybody. I want kissing.”

“Can’t,” Tamamori says, firmly enough to make Kitayama blink. Tamamori struggles to lift his head and glare at Kitayama, eyes flashing. “Can’t fuck anybody.”

Kitayama’s mouth wants to twitch into a smile, but he forces it back down to match Tamamori’s serious expression. “Just you, you mean?”

Tamamori nods. He looks the tiniest bit uncertain, but Kitayama doubts anybody who knew Tamamori even a little less well than he does would be able to see it.

“Well, okay.” Kitayama heaves the fakest sigh. “So long as there’s kissing, though.”

“Lots of kissing,” Tamamori promises immediately, and he crawls up Kitayama’s chest far enough to kiss him, ignoring the way Kitayama hisses when he slips out of him, kissing the sting of it away.

Kitayama plans on holding him to that promise.

“Hey,” Tamamori says when they’re packing up from Busaiku filming. Kitayama looks up from zipping his jeans, and Tamamori is leaning against the counter, looking entirely too casual.

“Something you want?” Kitayama asks.

Tamamori grins, because Kitayama can always see right through him.

“You.”

• 

  By Petit, 2016.10.24 @ 5:26 am

  KitaTama is a couple I’m still not used to, but they surely work great ~
  This was great too, by the way <3
  And Tama's so cute here! I feel sad for him, when Mitsu totally didn't realize he wanted more than just fun.

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