Authors: mousapelli and rikikomori
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, teasing
Summary: Honestly if Kitayama really did write fanfiction about them on the internet, it wouldn’t be nearly as frustrating as Fujigaya’s real life.
AN: After watching the Yoshio movie, there was pretty much no way we weren't going to write something about that. It wouldn't shock me at all if Kitayama really did read and/or write Fujikita fanfiction on the internet.
Back to Part 1
But his heart is beating out of his chest, even faster than before, and his only saving grace is that this proves he didn't leave it in the place he just was. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but Fujigaya doesn’t dare look at it until he’s the whole way home, locked in his room.
Whenever you’re ready to tell me what that was all about, it says, I’ll be waiting..
“Why are you so patient?!” Fujigaya snarls at his phone, tossing it aside. It hits the floor and the battery pops out, but Fujigaya doesn’t care at all. Feeling out of temper with everything, he strips off his clothes and curls up on his side, hoping to sleep off some of this weird feeling burning in the middle of his chest.
He dreads work in the morning and sleeps restlessly when he manages to sleep at all, waking up over and over to snatches of dreams which all involve Kitayama under him, Kitayama kissing him and whispering steps five and six and twenty in his ear. There’s even a terribly vivid nightmare about them getting married at Dome, officiated by Takizawa’s terrifying giant T. When it asks if there are any objections, Fujigaya’s mother stands up in the guest box and yells his name.
“Mom?” Fujigaya asks, befuddled.
“Taisuke, WAKE UP!”
Fujigaya’s eyes pop open, heart pounding from adrenaline and his mother shaking his shoulder roughly. “Fuck, Mom!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “What the hell!”
“Don’t what the hell me, young man!” his mother snaps, looking exasperated. “You’re late! It’s after ten already! Didn’t you set your alarm?”
“What?!” Fujigaya sits bolt upright, and catches sight of the phone still in a couple pieces on the floor. “Uuugh,” he groans. “Why did you wait so long to wake me up?!”
“What twenty-five-year-old needs their mother to wake them up for work?” his mother asks crisply. “This is like high school all over again! Could you please pull yourself together just a little bit? Whoever this girl is, it seems like she could hardly be worth it.”
“There’s no girl,” Fujigaya says, mouth on autopilot while he scrubs at his face with the heels of his palms. “I’ve told you and told you—”
“Well, you’re pretty fucked up over somebody, that’s for sure,” his mother interrupts him. “The last time I saw a face like that was when your father proposed, and he did it on the train platform so he could throw himself in front of the express if I said no.”
“It’s nothing like that!” Fujigaya snaps, weird snatches of his dream coming back to him and making him squirm even harder. He’s pretty sure Marius was the flower girl. “Get out so I can get ready, I’m late!”
“Sass me one more time.” His mother puts her hands on her hips and gives him a look that would straighten Senga’s hair. “And I’m going to make you eat that phone.”
“I really need my own place,” he crabs to Yokoo later, after he’s slunk in late to practice and been yelled at by their manager. He feels gross from not showering and wrung out from waking up panicked, and in general like he’s all a big, ugly mess.
“Then nobody would wake you up,” Yokoo points out. He looks back, unruffled, when Fujigaya gives him a fierce glare. “You really are a huge mess. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Fujigaya looks away, past Yokoo’s shoulder, and tries not to think about Kitayama wrapped tight around him, underneath him. He tries not to care that Kitayama is dicking around with Miyata and Senga off to the side like he doesn’t give half a fuck whether Fujigaya ever showed up to work or not, but Fujigaya isn’t that successful at not caring about that either.
“Taisuke, please,” Yokoo sighs, like Fujigaya just makes him so sad sometimes. “Be honest, at least with me. What did you think would happen if you fucked him? Did you think it would be different than all those other filming flings?”
“I didn’t fuck him,” Fujigaya hisses, voice icy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you’d tell me—”
“I don’t want to tell you!” Fujigaya explodes, much more sharply than he ever speaks to Yokoo, even when he’s angry. “I don’t want to talk about it all, okay?! You act like you know every damn thing, but you don’t have any idea what’s this is about!”
“Well, you’re in love with Kitamitsu,” Tamamori speaks up beside them suddenly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the whole world. He raises an eyebrow at the looks Fujigaya and Yokoo both give him. “You mean, other than that?”
“And just what makes you think that?” Fujigaya demands.
“You’re rubbing your third chakra point really hard.” Tamamori points, and Fujigaya looks down and realizes he is indeed rubbing anxiously at a spot on his sternum, right in the center of his chest. “That’s the heart chakra, you know.”
“My shirt itches!” Fujigaya forces his hand down to his side. “Seriously, why are you so weird? Could you take it somewhere else already? The grown-ups are talking here.”
“Oh, is that what we were doing?” Yokoo wants to know.
“It hurts if you don’t use it for a while and then it opens suddenly, huh?” Tamamori says sympathetically. “Or at least, that’s what my mom says. Also you keep staring at him and you look really angry that he’s never looking back.”
“Taisuke, what did you do?” Yokoo asks, sounding equal parts worried and like all of this is suddenly making a lot of sense.
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Fujigaya says, dropping his eyes to the ground and trying to swallow the wave of frustration crawling up his throat because he is not going to cry in front of groupmates like a fifteen-year-old who caught his crush behind the costume rack with somebody else. “I only even told him I wanted him because I thought he’d just laugh in my face and I could forget all about it. Then we were taking it so slow, so fucking slow I could have fucked anybody else about fourteen times, and then by the time we nearly got there last night, I just felt all this...” Fujigaya waves his hands helplessly. “I don’t know what it is. I bolted. I left right in the middle, I just couldn’t...this isn’t what I wanted.”
A warm hand splays across Fujigaya’s back suddenly, making him jump a little, then starts rubbing soothing circles. Fujigaya glances to the side to see Tamamori giving him an encouraging smile. “Your heart’s a muscle, you know. If you stretched it more, it wouldn’t hurt when you used it.”
“I know that I am in huge trouble, because you actually just made sense,” Fujigaya says. He nudges Tamamori’s arm off him with a shrug of his shoulder. “Get off, you. Go make out with Miyacchi or something.” He eyes Yokoo, who is opening his mouth. “You too, shoo. There’s nothing you can do to help, nothing anybody can do.”
“Just fix it,” Yokoo tells him, clapping a hand to Fujigaya’s shoulder and squeezing for a long second before he lets it slip off. “For both your sakes.”
When he’s eventually allowed to slink home, and finally take a shower, Fujigaya finds himself in front of his laptop in the middle of the night again. It seems appropriate, since this was how he started the whole mess, to try and sort it out this way as well.
So the other night, Fujigaya starts, then pauses. It’s hard to get the words out, even on to the screen, but he thinks about having to say them to Kitayama’s face instead and decides, no, he at least has a chance of managing it this way with the whole internet between them. I shouldn’t have left without saying anything. I should have explained. But I couldn’t explain it even to myself, so...
Suddenly it’s easy to pour his feelings out this way, to say all the things he’s been feeling, that he felt when Kitayama was kissing him and touching his skin everywhere he could reach, how he wanted so much more than just that moment, that night, and how scared he’d been when he realized. He ends up writing the longest email he’s ever sent in his life, afraid that if he can’t make Kitayama hear all his feelings now, he’ll have to keep them bottled up inside himself forever. When he’s done, he reads the whole thing over again once through, and feels curiously blank about it, like he’s just run out of feelings to have.
“Why can’t anything be simple with you?” he asks his computer, like he can ask Kitayama himself right through the screen, and then he hits send.
This time, there is no return email right away, or in an hour, or in two, and Fujigaya spends a restless night reassuring himself that there’s twenty reasons why Kitayama might not check his email until the morning, or answer even if he does. The ball of anxiety in his stomach grows steadily all the next day when he still gets no answer. By the time Kitayama actually joins them for a meeting in the afternoon and still makes no sign that he wants to talk to Fujigaya about anything, Fujigaya is too sick to his stomach to eat anything during their dinner break. He should just talk to Kitayama, he knows, but Fujigaya is too afraid he’ll start yelling before Kitayama gets more than two words out to dare try it.
He’s terrified Kitayama will tell him they can’t do this anymore. He’s even more afraid Kitayama will tell him anything else.
The next day they don’t see each other at all, Kitayama filming on location all day, but it’s for the best because Fujigaya’s anxiety finally plateaus out. It still hurts, but it feels like he can breathe again, makes it so that on the morning of the day after, he can walk right up to Kitayama and ask him point-blank if he’s checked his email.
“Oh, are you speaking to me again?” Kitayama asks, a bit coolly. His eyes are wary and ringed with exhaustion, and Fujigaya does feel bad about his terrible timing. Not that it stops him.
“I wasn’t not speaking to you,” Fujigaya says.
“Name a single thing you’ve said to me since you walked out,” Kitayama challenges, but Fujigaya doesn’t rise to the bait.
“You need to check your email right now,” Fujigaya says. “Please,” he adds when Kitayama makes no move to obey. “It’s important.”
Grumbling, Kitayama pulls his phone out of his pocket and clicks around on it a little. Fujigaya fidgets but waits as patiently as he can. He knows when Kitayama finds his email, because Kitayama’s eyes start scanning back and forth, and then go wide. But then to Fujigaya’s surprise, Kitayama shoves his phone in his pocket before there’s any chance that he can be more than a third of the way through the novel that Fujigaya wrote. He grabs Fujigaya’s wrist and marches off, Fujigaya in tow and too stunned to put up any resistance as Kitayama shoves him out a side door and lets it slam behind them.
He turns to face Fujigaya, looking him squarely in the eye. “Tell me.”
“What?” Fujigaya balks, heart starting to trip with panic. “I wrote that whole thing, just read it!”
“Taisuke,” Kitayama says, voice a little softer, but there’s steel underneath it. “Tell me.”
“I...” Fujigaya has to swallow twice before he can get anything else out. “I think I love you. I think I’m in love with you, and so far it’s scary and I don’t like it very much.”
“Mm,” Kitayama’s eyes flutter shut for a second. “You found it after all.”
“Found...what?” Fujigaya asks, mystified.
“A first.” Kitayama opens his eyes back up to give Fujigaya a smile. It’s tiny, but it makes Fujigaya’s whole stomach flip over. “No one’s ever said that to me first before.”
“No one’s ever...” Fujigaya repeats dumbly, then catches his breath. “First?”
“Fujigaya Taisuke,” Kitayama slides his hand down from Fujigaya’s wrist to wrap their fingers together, “I think I might be in love with you too. And so far, I can’t say I like it very much either.”
“Oh fuck you,” Fujigaya gasps in relief, and then Kitayama’s arm is around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, and Fujigaya can’t make sense of anything. All he can do it cling tightly to Kitayama and squeeze his eyes shut and pant for air against Kitayama’s mouth.
“Would it kill you to kiss back?” Kitayama murmurs against his mouth, and Fujigaya shoves him back suddenly.
“I’m not kissing you until you read that whole email!” he barks, making Kitayama’s mouth fall open in surprise. “I spent an hour writing that thing, and you’re going to read every single word of it!” When Kitayama doesn’t move fast enough for Fujigaya’s tastes, he starts rifling Kitayama’s pockets for the phone himself, making Kitayama squirm and fight to evade him, until both of them are laughing breathlessly, and only a little bit hysterically.
It takes them fifteen minutes to realize that they’re locked outside. Kitayama's still laughing when Fujigaya fumbles with his phone, trying to focus enough to select another member's number instead of someone embarrassing like a senpai. Before he can find one, though, the door bangs open and he's grateful that Kitayama has the foresight to grab it before it slams shut again.
"You two are gross," Tamamori informs them as he lights up a cigarette. "At least make out where he's not freezing cold."
"Worried about our tongues getting stuck together?" Kitayama asks, and Tamamori's nose wrinkles even more. "By the way, this door automatically locks."
Fujigaya stares at the ground as Kitayama pushes him inside, fingers firm on his arm even when they get back to the practice room. Yokoo rolls his eyes the minute he sees them, but he also looks relieved while Miyata just grins and the youngest two are thankfully not around to mock them. Kitayama's hold is much looser now, though the weight of his touch weighs heavily on Fujigaya's mind as he processes what just happened between them.
"Calm down," Kitayama hisses in his ear. "I can feel your heartbeat from here."
"I'm scared," Fujigaya whispers, not really giving a fuck who overhears. "I don't know what I'm doing."
Now Kitayama loops an arm around his waist, leaning his head against Fujigaya's shoulder. It's such an intimate embrace in such a public place, but comforting at the same time. "I haven't really been fair to you," Kitayama says slowly, his fingers playing with the hem of Fujigaya's shirt. "I've made you do all of this new stuff without any kind of familiarity."
Fujigaya just nods, his head ending up on the side closest to Kitayama's. He buries his nose in Kitayama's hair and breathes in, that same flowery scent from before, and everything within him relaxes.
"Wow." Yokoo's voice sounds even farther than just across the room. "If I had known this would get your ass to calm down, I would have made you say something years ago."
"I didn't feel this way years ago," Fujigaya mutters.
"Says you," Yokoo scoffs, and Fujigaya decides it's a point not worth arguing.
"So tonight," Kitayama goes on, like nobody else had spoken, though he lowers his voice considerably. "Tonight you can do what you know."
"What's—" Fujigaya starts, then falls silent as he realizes exactly what Kitayama means. "Step five?"
Kitayama laughs. "Sure."
It takes Fujigaya a second to react, and only then when Kitayama digs fingers into his sides. "What?"
"Are you disappointed?" Kitayama asks, and who needs the kouhai when this one can mock him just as well? "Did you want more steps or something?"
"Shut up," Fujigaya grumbles, trying to shove his way out of Kitayama's grip. It doesn't work, but then again he's not trying very hard.
"If you want more steps," Kitayama whispers, "you're going to have to add them yourself."
Then he lets go, abruptly enough for Fujigaya to jerk at the sudden loss of warmth, narrowing his eyes when that little bastard drops to the floor and starts stretching for practice. It takes Tamamori uncharacteristically smacking him in the head to tear his eyes away from Kitayama's muscles flexing, particularly the lower ones, and it's a small miracle that he makes it through the rest of practice without falling on his face…or Kitayama's.
But when they get back to Kitayama's place, after a pretty nerve-wrecking train ride where Kitayama fell asleep on his shoulder and Fujigaya had to use every ounce of his willpower not to hold him close and smell his hair, maybe kiss his forehead and wake him up with a healthy dose of step three, jumping him is the last thing on his mind. They're barely in the door before Fujigaya pulls him into his arms, giving in to his desire to feel Kitayama's body warm against his, breath hot on his neck and heartbeat drumming against his chest.
"Taisuke," Kitayama breathes, and Fujigaya squeezes him tighter. "Please take care of me."
Hearing that from this person has Fujigaya's heart doing weird things, though its rhythm is still at a normal speed. "Of course."
It's Kitayama who presses his mouth to Fujigaya's throat, unleashing the dam of arousal that's been held back for so long, and it all floods Fujigaya's veins so fast that he nearly falls over. A moan gets caught in his throat and Kitayama does it again, and again, kissing all over Fujigaya's throat and jaw and anywhere he can reach with all of their clothes still on, standing up. His hands slide underneath Fujigaya's shirt to touch his skin, fingers a bit cold from the spring night, but that just makes Fujigaya feel it more, the want spreading all over his body.
Fujigaya has half a mind to stop him, to toss in some more steps and make him wait like he'd made Fujigaya wait, for weeks, but the promise of finally having Kitayama is too much to chance. Though he's certain that at this point he'd wait forever for him, and the feeling might be mutual, which is honestly the thing that scares him the most.
Speaking of firsts, this whole being mutually in love thing is completely new to him, and as terrifying as it is, he's starting to see the perks. The way he feels right now, for one; being as Kitayama's original goal was to not just be another hole in Fujigaya's belt, Fujigaya would say he'd far surpassed it. He would even go as far as to say that's an understatement, despite having barely gotten started. Already it feels different, the way he touches Kitayama and the way Kitayama touches him, and absolutely nothing about it is just for tonight.
It may as well be Fujigaya's first time all over again with how foreign this feels, even once they're horizontal and kicking off the last piece of clothing that stands in their way of being completely skin to skin. Kitayama's cock is hard between them, but Fujigaya's hands are on his chest and legs while his mouth works the shell of Kitayama's ear, making him arch. Kitayama's legs curl around Fujigaya's waist, urging Fujigaya to fall between them and grab onto the backs of Kitayama's thighs, feeling the strong muscles beneath his hands that flex with each touch.
At this angle, his cock bumps Kitayama's and they both moan, Fujigaya lifting his head to claim Kitayama's mouth and muffle their combined noises that only escalate as Fujigaya's hips take over. It feels so good to finally get relief, even if it's just rubbing against him with his hands firm on Kitayama's ass to manually push him back.
"Taisuke," Kitayama interrupts after a good while, when Fujigaya's skin crawls with little tremors and he can't actually stop moving. "Is this all you want from me?"
"That's a loaded question," Fujigaya answers, because it is, and they both know it. Right now Fujigaya wants anything Kitayama will give him, even everything.
"Fair enough," Kitayama replies, and the next thing Fujigaya knows, he's on his back. Kitayama stares down at him, eyes dark, hair plastered to his face and breath heaving as he straddles Fujigaya's waist and slowly rakes his fingers up and down Fujigaya's chest, snagging a nipple on the way. "Don't you want me like this?"
"Yeah," Fujigaya breathes without thinking, his fantasies surfacing full force with Kitayama on top of him, ready to ride. "I want you just like this."
Kitayama looks smug as he leans over to the desk drawer. "Thought so."
He leans down to press a gentle kiss to Fujigaya's lips at the same time he slips a tube into Fujigaya's hand, and Fujigaya shifts gears enough to focus on lubing his fingers with Kitayama distracting him with slow, chaste kisses. They cut his urgency in about half, giving him the patience to tease Kitayama's rim until he feels whimpers against his lips, taking over the kiss when he slips in the first finger.
"Haven't you done this before?" he asks, his touch growing more careful as Kitayama's body resists him. "You're so tight."
"I have, but it's been awhile," Kitayama admits. "I don't let just anyone inside me."
“Mm, that’s nice to hear,” Fujigaya murmurs, stroking gently at Kitayama’s hip with his free hand. “It makes me wish I could say something like that back.”
“So say something different.” Kitayama stretches his back, arching a little, and finally relaxes enough that Fujigaya can add a second finger. His eyes are closed in concentration, his skin flushing a pink that Fujigaya wants to trace with his mouth all the way down. “Mm, Taisuke, tell me something good.”
“I don’t want anybody else but you,” Fujigaya says, meaning it with his whole heart. Kitayama smiles, opening his eyes enough to show Fujigaya how much he likes hearing that. “I just want you, so let me have you already. Mitsu,” he turns his head to breathe right in Kitayama’s ear, “let me in, please?”
“Oh,” Kitayama pushes down against Fujigaya’s fingers, “yes, oh, almost there. I’m ready for another one, go on.”
“Is step five lying?” Fujigaya wants to know, because as good as Kitayama feels inside, Fujigaya can barely spread his two fingers apart at all, much less work a third in. “Because that feels like a lie.”
Kitayama laughs, chest rumbling against Fujigaya’s from it. “It’s lying all right, lying right on top of you.” He laughs even harder at his own joke when Fujigaya makes a disgusted noise at him, then pushes himself up so that rocking down on Fujigaya’s fingers much more like how he’s going to be riding Fujigaya’s cock soon enough. “Why don’t you use your mouth for something good for once and talk me into it?”
“Fuck, what?” Fujigaya squirms a little before he even tries, but Kitayama just keeps looking down at him like that, waiting for him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before?” Kitayama coaxes. He rocks his hips even more slowly, more deliberately, taking Fujigaya’s fingers in so deep and squeezing around them. “Because I love your voice, you know. It’s the only part of you I could get close to for so long...”
It’s different trying to talk dirty to Kitayama, a lot harder and Fujigaya doesn’t know why, but if it’s something Kitayama wants, he’s determined to try. “I want you close now, though. I want you to feel all of me, I want,” Fujigaya takes a deep breath as he eases in a third finger finally, “I want to be so deep inside of you. I want to be closer than anybody else has ever been to you.”
“You already are.” Kitayama slides fingers into Fujigaya’s hair on either side of his head to tilt his face up for a soft kiss, humming a barely audible note with each flex of Fujigaya’s fingers. “I’m ready,” he says against Fujigaya’s mouth. “Take me. Have me.”
He slides down onto Fujigaya cock as slowly as he does everything else, but Fujigaya knows how to enjoy it now, knows better than to do anything with his hands on Kitayama’s hips except for knead at Kitayama’s skin instead of trying to force him. He watches Kitayama’s face instead, the way his brow tenses and then smoothes, the way his mouth falls just a little open on a sigh. When he finally settles the whole way down against Fujigaya’s hips, Fujigaya opens his mouth but all that comes out is a soft whimper.
“So good already,” Kitayama praises, voice so low it makes Fujigaya’s arms goosebump. He splays his palms across Fujigaya’s chest, pushing him backwards. “Lie down. Just watch.”
Once Fujigaya is flat on his back, Kitayama plants his hands in the middle of Fujigaya’s chest for leverage and rolls his hips in earnest, dirtier than any version of Firebeat they’ve ever been allowed to put on stage. Or maybe Fujigaya just feels that way because it sure has him on fire, helpless to do anything besides clutch at Kitayama’s thighs and thrust up into him, eyes only for Kitayama’s dark eyes and the way sweat is starting to bead at his throat and shoulders.
Kitayama shifts his weight, the position of his hands, and Fujigaya can tell he found the right spot when Kitayama’s head tips back, baring his whole throat in a clean line that Fujigaya wants to taste more than anything, if he could only reach it.
“Looks so good,” Fujigaya manages to moan. His words turn unintelligible when Kitayama squeezes tight around him, heat pooling in belly, low between his hips. He wants it to go on and on, but he already knows he’s too close. “Not gonna last...”
“Touch me,” Kitayama orders, obviously concentrating on keeping the rhythm he has going. “Make me come for you.”
His hand is around Kitayama’s cock before Fujigaya remembers starting to move it, and then once he starts to jerk Kitayama off it takes all of his focus to keep fucking Kitayama through it, Kitayama squeezing impossibly tight around Fujigaya’s cock. Kitayama is still talking, a string of pleas and Fujigaya’s name that sounds better than any solo Fujigaya’s ever heard him do on stage. Kitayama comes all at once, back arching and fingers digging hard into Fujigaya’s chest, and Fujigaya has a split-second to marvel at how much Kitayama just came all over his stomach before Kitayama collapses right on top of the mess.
“Mitsuuu,” Fujigaya complains, as if he cares at all about they way Kitayama’s sweat-slick skin slides against his own, how Kitayama’s weight crushes him into the mattress.
“Come, hurry up,” Kitayama pants in Fujigaya’s ear, sounding a little desperate as if he’s the one still waiting. “Sorry, m’just so exhausted...”
“It’s okay, I’m almost,” Fujigaya says, closing his eyes and reaching for it. He’s still inside Kitayama, barely, but he plants his heels and rocks up into him. “I’m so close, don’t let go.”
Kitayama mouths at Fujigaya’s neck, still panting for air so that his breaths puff against Fujigaya’s damp skin, one hand coming up to drag through Fujigaya’s hair. It’s perfect, too hot and too close and too much of their skin touching to sustain it for much longer, but it’s exactly what Fujigaya needs, and he gives one last groan into Kitayama’s hair as he spills himself inside Kitayama and then all the energy goes right out of his limbs.
Fujigaya can tell that Kitayama is nearly asleep already, so he’s surprised when Kitayama stirs and murmurs, “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Idiot.” Fujigaya lets his eyes fall shut; he draws in and lets back out a breath deep enough that Kitayama rises and falls couple centimeters on his chest. “It’s not like I want to do the walk of shame home in front of my family. I’ve done enough of those for a lifetime.”
"Stay," Kitayama says, this time with a stern voice, his arms wrapping around Fujigaya and squeezing tightly. "This is what you wanted, right? Me on top of you, like this."
"Just like this," Fujigaya breathes out, hands smoothing down Kitayama's legs to entwine with his own. He falls out of Kitayama in the process, pulling a gasp from both of them as Kitayama stretches out. "This is all I wanted to begin with."
Kitayama laughs, deep enough to vibrate most of Fujigaya's body. "And you got so much more."
Fujigaya just grunts noncommittally, but they both know that it's the truth.
"Your heartbeat is still fast," Kitayama comments, lifting his hand with what looks like a lot of effort to touch the center of Fujigaya's chest.
"We just had sex," Fujigaya whines, leaning his head back to glare as much as he can. "Give me a damn minute to calm down."
"It's okay," Kitayama says. "It's okay if it's for me."
"Good, because I don't think it'll change anytime soon."
Kitayama has nothing to say to that, and Fujigaya looks down to find him fast asleep. It should be uncomfortable to sleep like this, but Fujigaya finds himself slipping away from the combination of Kitayama's warm weight, like a heavy blanket. The next thing he knows, the sun is starting to break through the horizon outside Kitayama's windows, and Fujigaya's being woken in the most pleasant of ways.
"Fuck, good morning to you too," Fujigaya groans, his voice deep and groggy as his hips snap up into Kitayama's hand. "Mm, Mitsu, stop."
"Stop?" Kitayama asks, fingers coiled tighter around Fujigaya's very interested cock. "Are you sure about that?"
Fujigaya reaches down and tugs on Kitayama's wrist, pulling it up his stomach and lacing their fingers together. "Yeah, I'm sure."
"Taisuke," Kitayama whines, and Fujigaya smiles as the tables are turned. "We're here now, right? Let me touch you."
"Just because we're here doesn't mean we can't go back," Fujigaya says, and Kitayama stops struggling and curls up on top of him. "This is what you wanted, right?"
Kitayama just chuckles. "If you think I'm waiting weeks to do this again, you're mistaken."
"You don't want to force me, do you?" Fujigaya asks seriously, and Kitayama leans up to press their mouths together, making no move to deepen the kiss even after a considerable amount of time has passed.
Eventually they break apart, Kitayama's head fitting neatly on Fujigaya's shoulder while Fujigaya drags lazy fingers through Kitayama's soft hair. It's early enough that they don't have to be up yet, cherishing what little precious time they have before Kitayama's alarm goes off lying together like this, and the only rush Fujigaya feels is the light buzz everywhere their skin makes contact.
“Feels so good,” Kitayama murmurs eventually, and Fujigaya would think he was nearly asleep if a second later Kitayama didn’t start smirking. “Maybe I’ll write this scene into our next movie. Since you liked me falling on top of you so much in the last one.”
“Make one more joke like that,” Fujigaya threatens, “and I’m telling Taiga he can be my romantic co-lead. Bet he’d face-squish with me for Duet.”
Kitayama gives a low growl that Fujigaya feels all through his chest, and suddenly Kitayama is leaning over him, eyes dark, fingers wrapping around Fujigaya’s wrists possessively. “Don’t even think about it. I’m the only K you need, got it?”
Fujigaya looks Kitayama up and down dubiously. “Are you sure? Hmm. I’ve never dated a bandmate before, so you’ll have to show me how it’s done.”
“Let me show you step one,” Kitayama says, then drops on top of Fujigaya to crush their mouths together.