Kis-My-Ft2, Caught on Tape

Title: Caught on Tape (Tamamori/Miyata)
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: Tamamori and Miyata are the reason why half the footage is completely unusable.
AN: So much tour making of goodness yessssss. Wrote some Tamamiya blowjob fic because the last line was about sucking and those two aren’t subtle at all. No direct spoilers for DVD stuff, if you’re worried about that.

Caught on Tape

“If you’d just pay attention here, there might be actual sucking happening.”

Tamamori made an exaggerated face of annoyance at Miyata, who was holding that stupid camera again. Miyata just called him cute and reminded him that they probably shouldn’t give the fans that much ammunition, really.

“You’re the idiot who tried to follow me into the shower with that!” Tamamori snapped. He was starting to feel actually out of temper, instead of just his usual bluster.

Miyata picked up on Tamamori’s shift in mood right away, as usual, and closed the camera, setting it careful on the make-up counter. “What’s up? Usually you like being filmed.”

“Whatever.” Tamamori grumbled, going back to rifling through his bag looking for whatever he’d been looking for two minutes ago before Miyata came in with that stupid camera again. Miyata didn’t drop it, though, coming over and taking Tamamori’s bag out of his hands gently. He set it aside before putting Tamamori’s hands on his hips and wrapping his own arms around Tamamori’s waist.

“Hm?” he prompted.

Tamamori twiddled Miyata’s T-shirt between his fingers. He opened his mouth, but it was awkward to look into Miyata’s face when it was so close, so Tamamori focused on his shoulder instead. “Whatever,” he repeated. “I don’t care about that. You always do that.”

“But…” Miyata prodded again.

“It’s tour,” Tamamori said, then frowned at himself. “Tour is for…no, that’s dumb,” Tamamori corrected himself because he’d been about to say that tour wasn’t just for filming, but they couldn’t film backstage any other time except for tour, right? Tamamori grumbled, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Ah, we’re filming a lot more, right?” Miyata asked. Tamamori nodded, eyes narrowing a little. “We usually get to fool around more on tour, but this time we can’t so much because we have to be more careful.”

“Don’t act so smart,” Tamamori told him, squirming at how close to the mark Miyata was. “I can fool around with you anytime I want, it’s no big deal.”

“Tour’s different.” Miyata leaned forward to brush lips across Tamamori’s cheek, leaving a warm trail on his skin. “Everyone’s happy and everything’s exciting and it makes everything better. It makes you think about when we were teenagers and couldn’t be loud at home, and how concert adrenaline made us brave enough to try new stuff, and the first time you ever shoved me up against the scaffolding underneath a stage.”

“I still shove you against scaffolding!” Tamamori snapped, trying and failing to will away the blush spreading down his neck. “Quit saying all that stuff or Nika is gonna definitely get it on camera!”

Miyata kissed Tamamori instead, which was just as dangerous, maybe more because Miyata was right and everything was better on tour. Miyata’s mouth moving against his sent electricity zipping over his skin as if it were the first dozen times they kissed again instead of probably the two millionth, the clutch of Miyata’s hand against the small of Tamamori’s back melting Tamamori against him until all the air between them was gone.

Distantly, Tamamori heard the door open and some hooting, but when Miyata tried to pull away, Tamamori growled against his mouth and tightened his grip. Eventually the kiss did break due to lack of air, and Tamamori was hardly surprised to find Senga and Nikaido also in the room, Senga grinning broadly while Nikaido filmed them.

“You guys are creeps,” Tamamori informed them.

“You love it,” Nikaido said confidently. But his sass turned into a yelp of surprise when Yokoo threw open the door behind them suddenly and started yelling that this was exactly the reason they only ever got ten minutes of backstage footage on their DVDs.

Incriminating footage duly deleted, Yokoo shooed the idiot combination out, only giving Miyata and Tamamori a glancing unimpressed look over his shoulder.

“You’ve got ten minutes to get that out of your system or I’m letting Nika-chan film anything he wants,” Yokoo warned, then shut the door firmly.

“Wow, we only got half a Wattaface,” Miyata commented, his cheek still pressed comfortably against Tamamori’s shoulder. “That’s practically like giving us his blessing. How should we spend our ten minutes?”

“Too bad there isn’t any scaffolding,” Tamamori said, making Miyata burst out laughing. He scowled as Miyata slipped out of his grip. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“Not far, I promise,” Miyata said, and true to his word, he only dropped to his knees, hands on Tamamori’s thighs. “We used to do a lot more of this on tours too.”

“Because they weren’t our tours and we sucked at everything so we had a bunch more free time,” Tamamori pointed out. He didn’t object when Miyata rubbed his cheek against the front of his warm-up sweats, though. He slid his hands into Miyata’s hair, tugging a little when Miyata didn’t move things along himself. “Hey. You heard Watta, hurry up down there.”

“Yes, yes,” Miyata chuckled agreeably. He tugged Tamamori’s sweats down and wrapped a hand around Tamamori’s cock, starting to work him hard.

Tamamori hummed his approval, enjoying Miyata’s strong, warm hand, the touch so familiar. Miyata kept flicking glances up at Tamamori’s face and then back down at Tamamori’s cock in his hand, as if choosing where to look was too hard.

When he did put his mouth on Tamamori finally, Tamamori struggled to keep from moaning loudly enough to bring either staff or groupmates running, or both. Miyata didn’t fool around, sliding his mouth down half of Tamamori’s length at once and using his fist to make up the difference. Tamamori tightened his grip on Miyata’s hair and flexed his hips into it a little, shivering when Miyata’s soft moan buzzed against his skin.

Usually Miyata liked to tease him at least a little, enough so that Tamamori would start ordering him around, but not this time. Sucking firmly, Miyata pressed his tongue against the underside of Tamamori’s cock, the hand not on Tamamori’s cock coming up to feather at Tamamori’s balls. Tamamori just closed his eyes and didn’t bother trying to hold back, even if he’d probably take some ragging later about his stamina being the same as when they were seventeen. The heat gathering low in his stomach felt good, as good as the heat of Miyata’s mouth and the soft wet noises of the blowjob and the softness of Miyata’s hair wrapped around his fingers.

“Close,” Tamamori warned Miyata, the warning only having a few seconds’ lead over his orgasm. Miyata didn’t seem to care, as always, his pleased humming prolonging Tamamori’s rush until it finally faded into aftershocks. Tamamori felt too good to even care when Miyata climbed to his feet and kissed Tamamori fiercely, his own cock hard against Tamamori’s hip.

But when Tamamori reached for him, Miyata caught at his wrist.

“Later,” Miyata said. His eyes were so dark when he pulled back far enough for Tamamori to see them, dark enough that Tamamori wanted to drown in them. “Tonight you can make it up to me.”

Tonight they’d have hotel rooms, high on concert adrenaline and unable to sleep until far too late anyway, so Tamamori would have plenty of time to do exactly that, instead of the half a minute they had left now. It might not be any more private than a dressing room, given their group, but there’d be a bath and a bed, and scaffolding was fun and all but then you had to explain the weird bruises during costume changes.

“Definitely,” Tamamori promised, stealing another kiss from Miyata, and then another, until they were clearly past their time limit. And even if Nikaido and Kitayama caught all sorts of stuff with their cameras, even if it meant they had to be more careful than usual, there was always next tour and the tour after that.