Kis-My-Ft2, Best Jeanist

Title: Best Jeanist [Kitayama/Fujigaya]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Kitayama gives Fujigaya exactly what he wants and has a good time doing it.
AN: dear brain, i would like to discuss how during normal shiritori you can barely cough up 1k in 3 days, but for sonic suddenly you blurted out 3k of FujiKita overnight for no earthly reason. Why. WHY.

Best Jeanist

Ears pink from the exertion of dancing, Tamamori all but flopped onto the bar next to Kitayama.

“Lose Miyacchi?” Kitayama asked mildly, sipping his drink. Tamamori flailed at the bartender, like he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get a cab. “Here, take a sip of this before you die.”

“Thanks,” Tamamori said, taking the glass from Kitayama with one hand and still waving with the other. Drink ordered, he glanced over his shoulder. “Ehh, he’ll find his way back. Lost Gaya too, but that’s…” Tamamori glanced at Kitayama as he handed the drink back, then his gaze slid away. “You know.”

“Tama-chan, you don’t have to be cryptic every time he screws around with some girl in a club,” Kitayama chuckled. “Isn’t that why you two came here?”

“It’s not why I came here,” Tamamori grumbled. The bartender handed him his drink, which even in the dim lighting, Kitayama could tell was neon green. “Wanna try? It tastes like an apple Hi-Chew.”

“I’m not sure why you think that would entice me,” Kitayama wrinkled his nose.

He ended up trying it anyway (it was sweeter than he liked but not the worst), and eventually Miyata did find them. He was unsurprisingly sweat-soaked, but half-drunk Tamamori didn’t seem like he cared about that even a little bit as Miyata leaned into him to ask for some water and then went on hovering at Tamamori’s shoulder rather than taking a seat for himself.

“You taking a break, or are you done?” Miyata asked Tamamori. Tamamori leaned his head back, into Miyata’s shoulder, thinking.

“Done, I guess.” Tamamori glanced at Kitayama. It was mostly his fault that Kitayama was even out with them, when it was only Tamamori and Fujigaya who had wanted to come out to a club in the first place. “But we could stay for—”

“I can wait for him, go on,” Kitayama waved them off, his drink recently refilled. Miyata and Tamamori exchanged a look. “Seriously, you guys, it’s fine. Get out of here, go home.”

“Okay,” Tamamori folded immediately, his cute selfishness working in Kitayama’s favor for once. He downed the rest of his apple Hi-Chew horror while Miyata settled their tab, and then both of them said goodnight and headed out, Miyata’s hand on the small of Tamamori’s back pushing him through the crowd.

It didn’t take long anyway; Kitayama was almost done with his drink when Fujigaya finally did show back up. He looked more or less the same as when Kitayama had last seen him an hour ago, but Kitayama could spot the small differences: the creases in the shoulders of his button down, the way his hair was smoothed back down in a slightly different style than before. But most of all it was the expression that Kitayama recognized, the relaxed posture of somebody who’d just gotten laid, but the restless gaze and the slight set of his jaw that said it hadn’t been exactly what he wanted.

“They go home?” Fujigaya asked when he was in earshot. He glanced at his watch.

“Yeah. Want another drink before we go too?” Kitayama asked. Before Fujigaya could say no, he didn’t want to keep Kitayama, Kitayama added, “I’m having one more.”

“Fine, then,” Fujigaya agreed, sliding onto the seat next to him. Kitayama didn’t need or even especially want the last drink, but Fujigaya kind of looked like he needed it, so it was fine. They didn’t talk for the duration of it, the silence companionable, until Fujigaya stood up and Kitayama followed.

The outside air was heavy and humid, but still felt better than the crush of the club.

“Got everything?” Kitayama asked, watching Fujigaya do his usual pocket check for keys, wallet, phone, sunglasses.

“Yeah,” Fujigaya said, and then didn’t speak again until it was clear that Kitayama was following him to his car. “What are you doing?”

“You’re taking me home with you,” Kitayama said.

“Why’m I doing that?” Fujigaya raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be a jerk, Miyacchi drove me. Your place is closer and it’s late. We have the same work in the morning.”

“Uuuugh,” Fujigaya huffed, like it was a chore, but he didn’t argue any further as they found his car and climbed inside. Kitayama waited until they had the doors safely closed before saying the rest of it.

“Also clearly you didn’t get what you wanted out of that girl, so,” Kitayama shrugged, “it’s not a big deal if you want me to.”

Fujigaya spluttered a little, fumbling his keys. He gave Kitayama dirty look as he fished them off the floor mat and started the car, but then spent the ride home chewing on his lower lip. That was the best way to get things done with Fujigaya anyway, to bring something up and then let him stew about it for a while. Kitayama could have pressed it in the club and it would have been easier, faster, and maybe even more fun in a sense, but at their age he didn’t feel like he needed a lot of that kind of excitement. Fujigaya certainly didn’t need one more thing to wind himself up about, worrying that somebody got pictures or video of two Johnny’s idols fucking in the back of a shady club, so.

He was trying to help Fujigaya feel better, not fuck him up worse. It was a thin line, but Kitayama had a lot of experience.

“Don’t say ‘it’s not a big deal’ like you’re doing me some favor,” Fujigaya finally said when they were kicking off their shoes in his genkan. Kitayama toed his sneakers into a neat line, while Fujigaya let his boots lie where they dropped.

Rather than argue, Kitayama turned around and took a hold of Fujigaya’s hips, pulling them flush together. The height difference made it so that it was easier to put his lips against Fujigaya’s throat than his mouth, but that was a weak point of Fujigaya’s anyway. He slid his hands around Fujigaya’s waist and down into the back pockets of his jeans. It took about three seconds of kneading Fujigaya’s ass firmly before Fujigaya made a soft, desperate noise and grabbed for Kitayama’s shoulders.

“It’s not a big deal because I like doing it,” Kitayama answered. He scraped his teeth gently against the edge of Fujigaya’s collar bone, enjoying the way Fujigaya was already getting hard against his hip where they were pressed together. “Couch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya agreed, apparently giving up on the argument. Kitayama raised an eyebrow at the easiness but didn’t argue. It must have been a while since anybody helped Fujigaya out, he figured, and it had been a particularly long time since he’d done it himself. He wondered if Fujigaya even trusted anybody besides him to do it, these days.

Given the way Fujigaya stripped his jeans and threw himself on the couch in ten seconds flat, Kitayama tended to think the answer was no, nobody else. That was kind of nice.

It only took Kitayama two minutes to find Fujigaya’s condoms and a towel he probably wouldn’t care about. He came back to the couch, lips twitching with amusement at how Fujigaya was still lying there in a sprawl, one arm over his face like a belle with the vapors.

“Up,” Kitayama ordered, tapping Fujigaya’s hip, then slid the towel underneath him when Fujigaya lifted up. “Why, Taisuke, are you swooning over me?”

“This is a terrible idea,” Fujigaya grumbled, letting his arm flop down. Kitayama settled on the couch as well, in between where one of Fujigaya’s legs was resting along the length of the couch. Instead of letting Fujigaya’s other leg flop across his lap, he wrapped a hand around Fujigaya’s ankle and settled the sole of Fujigaya’s foot against the outside of his thigh. “Why are you still dressed? It’s creepy I’m naked and you’re dressed.”

“I’m busy,” Kitayama answered, occupied pressing fingers inside Fujigaya. He wiggled them. “Also kinda covered in lube here.” Snorting, Fujigaya rocked himself up into a half-sitting position that probably was murder on his abs, just so that he could reach for the buttons of Kitayama’s shirt. “Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya grunted. “Why’re there…so many…ugh!” Fujigaya flopped back down against the couch arm. Kitayama didn’t bother to muffle his chuckle. “Ow.”

Kitayama set his clean hand on Fujigaya’s abdomen, soothing the muscles with the warmth of his palm. He didn’t feel a need to talk just for the sake of doing it, and Fujigaya honestly didn’t need that much help relaxing, so soon enough he was pulling his hand free and wiping enough lube off on the towel that he could strip his own jeans off. He looked over, and Fujigaya had pulled both his knees up to his chest, watching him.

“Like this?” Kitayama asked, meaning his seat in the middle of the couch. He ripped open a condom and rolled it on, shifting over enough that he was safely on the towel as well.

“Yeah.” Fujigaya rolled forward to his knees, then threw one leg over Kitayama’s lap. He gripped the back of the couch, getting his balance. “Okay.”

Kitayama held his cock steady with one hand, using the other to line up Fujigaya by touch. “Go ahead,” he encouraged, then gave a low, “Mmm,” as Fujigaya slid himself down slowly. Probably not as slowly as he should have been taking Kitayama in, given the way he was hissing in Kitayama’s ear, but Kitayama was fine letting Fujigaya deal with his own business his own way.

“Fuck,” Fujigaya said when his weight settled into Kitayama’s lap. Kitayama didn’t try to rush him, didn’t do anything besides smooth his hands up Fujigaya’s hips, waist, and ribs, and then back down again. Fujigaya’s eyes were closed, a slight furrow in his brow, but the tense set of his jaw was gone.

It was pretty satisfying to be right, Kitayama thought. Eventually Fujigaya started to move, pulling his knees a little tighter in against Kitayama’s thighs, and shifting his grip from the back of the couch to Kitayama’s shoulders. Kitayama held steady, grip sliding down to Fujigaya’s thighs and staying, but otherwise not pushing up into it.

“You?” Fujigaya asked, which wasn’t a very clear question, but even when he opened his eyes it was plain he wasn’t focused on Kitayama exactly.

“Just do it how you need,” Kitayama advised, thumbs rubbing little circles against Fujigaya’s skin.

“I hate how patient you are.”

“It feels good to me too, asshole,” Kitayama retorted easily. He settled a little more deeply into the couch, perfectly comfortable, and lifted one hand hand to thumb at Fujigaya’s nipple. “Plus you’re fun to watch.”

Fujigaya gave him a dark look, then shut his eyes again, concentrating. It took him some shifting to figure out what he wanted, but after a minute it turned into more of a roll of his hips. Apparently what he wanted was deep and more of a circular motion than just up and down. Gradually Kitayama leaned up into it, and when he was sure he wouldn’t jar Fujigaya’s rhythm, figured out when the right time to thrust up was. Fujigaya’s low moan was just confirmation.

“Yeah?” Kitayama asked. Fujigaya was leaning into him more heavily by now, close enough that Kitayama could lick at his sternum and almost, almost one of his nipples if he turned his head. He stretched up on the next thrust, just a little, and got it.

Fujigaya answered with a distracted “Mmhmm,” entirely occupied with keeping up what he was doing. He didn’t reach for his cock, and Kitayama didn’t either, fine with however long Fujigaya needed it to take.

That didn’t mean it didn’t get progressively harder not to just flip Fujigaya onto his back and go as hard as Kitayama wanted. Kitayama’s patience did have some limits. But maybe it wasn’t the hardest thing either when Fujigaya was trembling and hot against him, when he could watch Fujigaya getting exactly what he wanted and being entirely into it.

“Can I touch you yet?” Kitayama asked eventually, because he did have a limit.

“No,” Fujigaya told him, and Kitayama growled in annoyance, just before he realized that Fujigaya was peeling a hand off his shoulder to do it himself. Kitayama focused on gripping Fujigaya’s ass and taking some of his weight as his rhythm started to falter, and then Fujigaya went tense all over, heat spilling onto Kitayama’s stomach.

Kitayama knew without asking to keep moving, although without help from Fujigaya it was slower and more of a deep pulse than actual thrusting. It seemed to be working for Fujigaya, who was making a breathless string of noises and still shivering. Kitayama made it until most of that was over before using his grip on Fujigaya’s ass to lift him how he wanted it, fast and rough enough to make Fujigaya bounce a little.

“Okay, okay,” Fujigaya hissed, getting both hands back on Kitayama’s shoulders for support more than balance, since Kitayama was definitely not letting go. It felt amazing, Fujigaya squeezing tight around him and still making all of those cute, breathless noises to boot.

“Want me to pull out?” Kitayama asked, already possibly too close to do it, after as much time as Fujigaya had taken.

“Just do it,” Fujigaya groaned, and Kitayama was happy to take him at his word. His orgasm seemed to start at the base of his spine and radiate out to his fingertips and toes, wringing a long moan out of him until he went limp against the couch.

For a minute, the only sounds were their harsh breathing. Kitayama slid his grip up so his arms were locked more around Fujigaya’s waist, almost a hug, but Fujigaya didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move. Giving a last, deep sigh, Kitayama let his head flop back against the back of the couch.

“It would be fine to just ask me whenever,” he said. “For this.”

“Really?” Fujigaya asked, eyes still stubbornly closed. “You can’t let me just come down for five whole minutes?”

“No, because then you’ll get up and run away,” Kitayama said reasonably. “I have to get you before your legs will hold you up. This is all right. It’s okay that this is a thing that you want.”

“Yeah, right.” Fujigaya opened his eyes but stared somewhere over Kitayama’s shoulder. “It’s a-okay that I like girls but even when I’m with one, I’m thinking about how I’d like to be fucked in the ass instead. That’s completely normal.”

Kitayama snorted. “Normal isn’t exactly how we got here, is it? So I’m saying, instead of letting it build up until you’re stupidly frustrated, wouldn’t it be better just to say that’s what you needed? You know you can trust me, and I’m telling you I don’t care. To be real, I can’t see what more you of all people could ask for. I’m offering you the easiest possible out.”

“That’s not all right.” Fujigaya did, finally, look down to meet Kitayama’s eyes, frowning. “With you. That shouldn’t be all right with you.”

“Why not?” Kitayama asked, shrugging. “What’s stopping us? In the unlikely event that I accidentally knock up some actress and have to marry her, or you pull yourself together enough to ask a girlfriend to strap on for you, yeah, okay, this might be turn out to be a problem. But in the meanwhile…waiting like two years until I have to trick you into your own car, that’s the part of this that isn’t all right with me.”

There was a short silence before Fujigaya said quietly, “I’ll think about it. Help me up.”

Once they were both on their feet, Kitayama stretched, unbuttoned shirt still hanging from his shoulder and probably looking fairly silly. Not nearly as silly as Fujigaya’s hair, though, sticking up cutely all over as he padded to the kitchen to get both of them bottles of water. Maybe if Fujigaya ever dared show his cute side to any girls, he’d find one worth having after all.

“Lemme borrow a pillow and I’ll just crash here,” Kitayama said, taking the water Fujigaya handed him. Fujigaya’s couch was comfortable enough.

“You’re not sleeping out here,” Fujigaya said, wrinkling his nose. Kitayama ignored him, busy shaking his underwear out of his pants.

“We put a towel down.”

“Don’t be stupid, you know my bed’s huge. But I’m showering first, and don’t you dare fall asleep all sweaty in my sheets.”

Fujigaya was quick about that, at least, and came out toweling off his hair to let Kitayama have his turn. He was already in bed when Kitayama returned, lying on his back, just staring at the ceiling. As advertised, the bed was large enough that there was no danger of accidentally touching when Kitayama crawled in from the other side.

“I’m good,” he said, getting comfortable on his side. “If you’re waiting for me to get the light. It won’t bother me if you leave it on a bit, though.”

“Why are you so fucking agreeable?” Fujigaya demanded, turning his head to glare. “It’s driving me insane.”

Knowing they weren’t talking about the light at all, Kitayama said seriously, “I demand you grow your hair out so I can pretend I’m fucking a girl, or the deal’s off.”

“You!” Fujigaya barked a laugh.

“You make such a pretty girl, Tai-chan. Just roll me onto my back in the morning if you want to be on top again. I’ll consider that part of this same transaction so you might as well get the most out of your time in case you decide to pretend this didn’t happen again later.”

“YOUUU,” Fujigaya snapped, laughing harder. He yanked the pillow out from under his head to whap Kitayama with it, hard enough to make his ears ring for a second.

He didn’t fight back, though; Kitayama just let Fujigaya get it out of his system and then settle himself back down against his pillow. Fujigaya flipped the light off and things were quiet long enough that Kitayama’s eyes were adjusted to the dark when Fujigaya spoke up again.

“I guess I don’t get what you’re getting out of it, exactly.”

“Sex, Taisuke,” Kitayama yawned, having used up all his inspirational speech material earlier. “You do actually have a pretty decent ass and I have no problems hitting that. There’s a reason they named you best jeanist.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Fujigaya grumbled, then was quiet after that.

Weeks later, Senga and Fujigaya were waiting for the others to show up for magazine shoots, Fujigaya sipping a coffee and Senga leafing through a magazine.

“Oh hey,” Senga said suddenly, flatting the magazine a little more to make the small print easier to read. “It’s the messages you and Kitamitsu wrote to each other!”

“Ugh,” Fujigaya said into his coffee.

“Awww, you said nice things about him,” Senga cooed. Fujigaya glared at him, but Senga just grinned back. “It’s so cute when you two get along nicely. Let’s see what he wrote back, hm?”

“Let’s not.”

“Pfft, his is dumb anyway,” Senga snorted. “I knew I couldn’t trust you two. All his says is that he’s really glad you’re Best Jeanist. That moron…” Senga looked up when Fujigaya choked on his coffee. “Are you okay? What the hell, what are you blushing like that for?”

(message exchange is true facts. Gaya’s is here and Mitsu’s Best Jeanist response is here.)

• 

  By Petit, 2016.10.24 @ 3:43 am

  Ahh, it’s been a while since I read a fic that was not written like, 5 years ago!
  I really love seeing Mitsu topping Gaya and being so patient and kinda sweet xD
  That was hot~ Thank you >u<

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