Authors: mousapelli and rikikomori
Rating/Warnings: NC-17...phone voyeurism? Is that a thing that needs a warning?
Summary: Only Tamamori could think that sending pictures like that would be completely innocent.
AN: Written for kink bingo, "pictures" square on the "long-distance" card.
Look at my new earring, the text from Tamamori reads, and Fujigaya nearly walks into a lamppost when the attachment loads. It's a decent enough piece of jewelry, in his expert opinion, but that's not the shocking aspect of it—it's the closeup of Tamamori's ear, the damp hair pushed back for easier accessibility, and the few scattered drops of water on the back of his jaw.
For a fraction of a second, Fujigaya wants to lick his display screen, and he's pretty sure that he only resists because he's in public. Cool, he types back, pocketing his phone before he does something embarrassing, though the vision remains on the backs of his eyelids like it had been engraved there.
The next picture is taken in the dressing room of what looks like a clothing store, focused on a wide-collared shirt. It accentuates Tamamori's collarbones rather nicely and Fujigaya makes a fist on his own knee, thankfully in his bedroom where nobody can judge him for running his thumb over the screen. I like it, he replies, figuring Tamamori will just think he's talking about the shirt, which he apparently does since Tamamori is wearing it the next time they work together.
"Why do you keep sending me pictures?" Fujigaya asks nonchalantly.
Tamamori shrugs. "You keep up with fashion and stuff, right? I value your opinion."
"That's…wow, thanks," Fujigaya stammers out. "Feel free to ask my opinion anytime."
That has Tamamori's face lighting up. "Okay! I'll send you pictures of everything I buy from now on, then."
Fujigaya nearly kicks himself, but he just nods. Only Tamamori would think that these pictures are completely harmless. Of course, this is the same Tamamori who wrinkles his nose at his own An-An shoot and wonders why people even want to look at that. He could probably model speedos and be confused by all the leering. For someone who arguably ranks top three in sex appeal out of the members, he's sure unaware of it.
It's late morning when the next mail arrives, though Fujigaya's still lazing around in bed on a rare day off. The picture is already loaded by the time he pries open his eyes, and all he can do is groan at the way Tamamori's lifting up his shirt to show off his new belt.
Tamamori’s been keeping up with his muscle training and it shows, making Fujigaya’s fingers itch to trace the lines of Tamamori’s lean muscle, the whole way down to that ridiculous buckle (it looks like a souvenir his precious Yamapi-senpai brought back from America). Fujigaya comes this close to texting back that Tamamori should send him a picture of him taking the belt off, since it would clearly improve his outfit.
Maybe for some other reasons.
It’s not your usual style, is what Fujigaya sends back instead. I guess there’s nothing wrong with a change...but I think Tama-chan’s usual style suits you better.
When Tamamori really does send another picture minus the belt with just a question mark, Fujigaya nearly throws his phone out the window. The Yes, he replies with has absolutely zero percent to do with fashion sense, and one hundred percent to do with the way he’s already sliding his free hand into his sweatpants and wrapping it around his cock.
Fujigaya closes his eyes and imagines he’s in a dressing room with Tamamori, standing behind him and tugging him close with hands on Tamamori’s hips, watching them both in the mirror over Tamamori’s shoulder. Tamamori’s cheeks go pink with surprise, and then with something else as Fujigaya reaches for that stupid belt and tugs it open, dragging fingers over Tamamori’s belly while he’s at it. The new piercing, Fujigaya remembers the picture that started all of this, and he imagines stretching up to lick at it, Tamamori shivering in his arms.
His own cock is rock hard in his hand already, so it’s easy for Fujigaya to imagine shoving Tamamori’s pants down barely far enough to get hands on his. Fujigaya’s hips snap up into his grip as he thinks about Tamamori squirming and panting just for him, trying to muffle his noises because they’re in a dressing room in public and failing at it completely as they both watch Fujigaya work him over in the mirror.
That’s as far as Fujigaya gets into the fantasy before he comes all over his hand with a groan and goes limp against his mussed sheets. His phone chimes with a new message, but it takes him a few seconds of fumbling to pick it up with his clean hand.
"Oh come on!" he yells at the picture, which has a sleeveless mesh shirt added to the mix, and Fujigaya's still catching his breath from his impromptu orgasm as he types back. Nothing Kitayama has ever worn on stage is allowed.
Just kidding, is the response, and Fujigaya resists the urge to throw his phone at the wall. He has half a mind to tell Tamamori what he just did, additionally what he thinks about Tamamori's nipples dark behind that mesh, but he doesn't want this to end quite yet. Even if Tamamori is incredibly cute when he's flustered, not to mention just as impatient as Fujigaya when it comes to something he wants, there's something enticing about waiting it out, seeing how far they'll go like this before giving in.
That's not to say that Fujigaya doesn't get his revenge. It takes nearly an hour and he's positive he just repierced the damn thing, but he manages to push a barbell through his belly button and takes the sluttiest picture of himself lifting his shirt in the mirror. He shakes his head at his own face, amazed but unsurprised at the lust in his eyes that Duet would kill to capture.
Look what still fits! he sends with the picture, because Tamamori doesn't have to know the details and probably won't care, anyway. Fujigaya has no reason to ask Tamamori's opinion on anything, so it will be interesting to see how he reacts.
There's nothing for a while, so Fujigaya showers and goes about his day with lingering tingles throughout his body from how it began. He meets Kawai for a late lunch and listens to his friend's ridiculous stories, usually involving the other members of his group. He doesn't think anything of it when his phone vibrates, signalling an incoming message, though he completely forgets about Kawai and Hasshi's silly pranks when he sees the accompanying picture.
This is really good! It's my first time! and there is nothing at all innocent about the way Tamamori's lips wrap around the wide straw, a few boba on their way up from the milk tea in his hand. He's staring straight into the camera lens with a glint in his eye that Fujigaya can't decide whether he hopes he's imagining or not.
He's brought back to reality by a swift slap to the head, looking up into Kawai's grinning face. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone, Taipi."
"I'm not," Fujigaya replies honestly, his cheeks warming.
Kawai rolls his eyes. "Well, whatever it means when you send each other dirty pictures."
"They're not dirty!" Fujigaya exclaims, belatedly wondering whom he's trying to convince.
"Yeah, right." Kawai grins. "You know, if you ever want to free up your hands, I would be happy to be your cameraman."
Fujigaya wrinkles his nose at the implication of that, then leaves Kawai to his filthy laughter as he considers his next move in this strange battle. He’s window shopping on his way back to the station when inspiration hits, and he’s inside and already buying the item that caught his eye before he so much as glances at the price.
“Sorry, credit card-san,” he murmurs with a little wince when he does see the total, but oh well, why be a hot idol if you can’t splurge for the good stuff? The shop girl only chuckles knowingly, like she hears that sort of thing all the time.
He has to take the picture half a dozen times before he’s entirely happy with it, his eyes low-lidded and looking right at the camera, his hair falling into them like it’s begging to be brushed back, the tips of his fingers pressed against the hollow of his throat like a suggestion, the necklace caught up to dangle from his pinky like an afterthought. Like what you see? he texts as he flops onto his bed. He closes his eyes as he waits for the answer and imagines Tamamori’s face when he reads it, grinning to himself at his own cleverness.
The grin is wiped right off his face when the picture he gets in response is Tamamori sprawled out on his own bed, definitely shirtless and the frame cutting off just low enough to make it doubtful that he has any clothes on at all. The angle is strange and off-center from Tamamori holding out his phone far enough to take the picture, but it’s appealing too, just as appealing as the knowing grin Tamamori is giving him and the way his other arm trails just off the screen, as though he’s just run his fingers down his chest and hadn’t stopped there.
If you hurry, maybe you’ll see the rest, the accompanying text reads, and Fujigaya is out the door so fast his brother hollers after him to ask if Louis Vuitton just started selling pornography or what, damn.
Fujigaya has only been to Tamamori’s new apartment a couple times and isn’t one hundred percent sure of the way from the station, but anticipation sharpens his memory so he’s standing in front of Tamamori’s door in record time. He’s only a little disappointed when Tamamori answers after the second knock and is wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt from last tour.
“You don’t look like I’m interrupting anything that good,” Fujigaya comments, raising an eyebrow.
Tamamori rolls his eyes. “I got cold. Did you expect me answer my door bare-ass naked?”
“You’re a tease, Tama-chan,” Fujigaya answers, because even Tamamori has more sense than to actually do that, but it’s a pretty nice fantasy. “You gonna let me in?”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Tamamori says, but he stands to the side enough that Fujigaya can get by him. Their bodies brush in the narrow space, and Fujigaya shivers a little, anticipation making everything feel like more.
"You started it," Fujigaya grumbles as he toes off his shoes and walks into the one main room. There's not much going on decor-wise, probably because he'd just moved in not long ago, but there's a bed and a mirror and that's all Fujigaya really needs.
"Actually, I didn't," Tamamori contests, though the way he leans his chin on Fujigaya's shoulder doesn't hold up his argument much. "I can't help it if you're a freak who gets turned on by innocent pictures."
Fujigaya's gaze darts toward the mirror just in time to see Tamamori's smirk. "Innocent, my ass."
He watches his own eyes widen when Tamamori reaches down to grope the body part in question. "Do you wanna argue, or do you wanna fuck?"
"I sure didn't come all the way over here for a fight," Fujigaya says, taking advantage of his position to give a sharp rock back against Tamamori. Then Tamamori spins him around and presses their mouths together, nipping at Fujigaya's bottom lip until Fujigaya flicks out his tongue, beyond done with this one's teasing.
Tamamori lets out a pleased groan as he tugs Fujigaya over to the bed, where Fujigaya ends up on his back with Tamamori on top. Out of the pair of them, he wouldn't have pegged Tamamori as the aggressor before right now, but he's not opposed to lying here and letting his kouhai do all the work.
Helpfully he lifts his arms while Tamamori pulls off his shirt, those soft eyes roaming down his chest until they settle on the navel piercing. "You're not subtle, you know that?"
"Wasn't trying to be," Fujigaya replies, arching a little when Tamamori pokes at the barbell. "You should talk, fellating your boba tea like that."
Tamamori grins. "You're so easy."
A protest is on the tip of Fujigaya's tongue, but then the tip of Tamamori's tongue is licking around his piercing and his priorities shift. He tries to bite back a moan but fails, though Tamamori's eyes dart up to stare at him under a fringe of brown bangs and Fujigaya can't look away.
"See? Easy," Tamamori says, the words vibrating Fujigaya's lower abdomen, and Fujigaya thinks that Tamamori can say whatever he wants as long as he keeps going down. “I can have you, right?” He sweetens his offer by palming Fujigaya through his jeans, just firmly enough to make Fujigaya bite back a groan.
“You wanna do all the work? Fine by me,” Fujigaya says, stretching out on his back all the more lazily. Tamamori is as straightforward in actions as he is in words, and he doesn’t waste any time stripping off Fujigaya’s jeans and settling back between his legs. He draws his fingers down the insides of Fujigaya’s thighs, light enough to make Fujigaya squirm from the tickle of it. “Fuck, haven’t you teased me enough?”
“Mm, but you’re so hot when you’re all worked up, though,” Tamamori says. “Tell me what you want and you might get it.”
“Suck me off,” Fujigaya asks without hesitation. He’s been thinking about that since the picture with the boba tea, Tamamori’s lips wrapped around his cock, eyes looking up at him just like he was looking at the camera. Tamamori leans in and licks at Fujigaya’s tip without any further argument, humming a little like he’s been thinking about it too.
Just when it’s getting good, Tamamori stops and pushes himself up. Fujigaya growls about that low in his throat, until he realizes that Tamamori stopped to lean over and dig condoms and lube out of his bedside table.
“Impatient,” Tamamori scolds, shoving off his sweatpants while he’s at it. “Want me to keep stopping and starting? No? Didn’t think so.”
“Don’t be so smug, you knew I was worked up when I got here,” Fujigaya tells him, legs spreading automatically when Tamamori reaches between them again with slick fingers. It’s a little embarrassing how shamelessly he’s begging for it, but then again he wants Tamamori badly enough that it’s hard to care about what he looks like.
Tamamori gets comfortable propped on his elbows and goes back to licking at Fujigaya’s cock without being asked again, and Fujigaya has no objection to that, certainly. It feels just as good as it looks, Tamamori’s mouth wet and hot as he sucks Fujigaya in deeper, his finger teasing the edge of Fujigaya’s hole. When he pushes his finger in finally, Fujigaya’s body struggles to push both down on it and up into Tamamori’s mouth at the same time, making Fujigaya whine in frustration. Tamamori’s fingers are long but slender, and one isn’t nearly enough, just more of a tease.
“More,” he pants, and when that doesn’t get him anything right away, changes tactics. “Please, Tama-chan? You’ve already been teasing me ages, I won’t last if you don’t hurry.”
"In that case…" Tamamori pulls off of Fujigaya's cock completely, smirking at the whine that turns into a moan when he inserts another finger. "If I had known you'd be this fun to play with, I would have done it a long time ago."
Fujigaya decides not to point out that a long time ago, Tamamori was scared of him, and they weren't even friends, let alone a possibility for more. Looking at him now, Fujigaya's amazed at how much Tamamori has grown, and not just in height. Fujigaya lies back while Tamamori takes charge, body rocking from the stretching inside him that's the perfect combination of speed and force.
"Oh, there we go," Tamamori mumbles when he finds Fujigaya's spot, leaning down to kiss the desperate gasps spilling from Fujigaya's lips as he presses against it harder. "I can totally reach this with my cock."
"Please," Fujigaya gets out, reaching up to grip onto Tamamori's shoulder. "Fuck me, Tama."
"Not yet," Tamamori says, though his third finger slips in a bit hastily. "Mm, you should see yourself right now. This would be a nice picture to have on my phone."
"No way in hell," Fujigaya replies, but he feels Tamamori's chuckle and knows that the other man is kidding. "Come on, hurry up."
"So desperate for it," Tamamori breathes against Fujigaya's lips, and Fujigaya's face heats up even more from the depth of Tamamori's voice. "A little more, I don't want to hurt you."
Fujigaya's about to scoff about just how big Tamamori thinks he is, honestly, when Tamamori starts moving all three of his fingers in and out, simulating sex, and all Fujigaya can do is push back and moan. He's beyond ready, considering making the effort to roll them over and take it himself when he hears the distinct sound of a condom wrapper opening.
He's already wrapping his arms around Tamamori's waist before Tamamori even leans over him, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he hesitates. Fujigaya encourages him with a buck of his hips and Tamamori's eyes darken even more, leaning down to fuse their mouths together as he starts to push inside him. Fujigaya arches his back to take Tamamori in deeper, groaning when Tamamori presses his mouth against Fujigaya’s throat and nips at the skin there.
For all his big talk, Tamamori doesn’t seem like he’s interested in any more teasing either. He plants his knees and gets his hands on Fujigaya’s hips to pull him down into the right angle, clearly looking for the spot that he could reach with his fingers. Fujigaya squirms to take Tamamori in deeper, as if he’s trying to help but mostly just wriggling around until Tamamori digs his fingers into his skin even deeper to try and keep him still.
“Quit that,” Tamamori orders, voice lower than Fujigaya’s ever heard it before. It makes Fujigaya shudder, skin prickling all over as if Tamamori’s hands are skimming over it instead of just clutching at his waist. “Don’t you trust me to make you feel good?”
“Yeah,” Fujigaya agrees without much thought, and then Tamamori gets it exactly right on the next thrust, and Fujigaya lets words keep pouring out of his mouth without trying to stop them. “Yeah, please, just like that, just, oh.”
“Told you so,” Tamamori says smugly as Fujigaya’s words trail into a long moan. “Mmm, you’re so hard for me, and I haven’t even touched you. Wonder if I even have to? Or is it enough if I just watch? You like being seen, yeah? Isn’t that what this was all about?”
“Don’t,” Fujigaya begs, desperate for Tamamori to touch him after all of this. “Touch me, please? I want...” He’s so close he can’t even get the words out, distracted by the burn of his skin and the way Tamamori’s eyes drag over him so slow, drinking all of him in. “I...ohh...”
“You’re so pretty when you beg,” Tamamori praises, “I guess that’s worth a reward. But,” he adds as he peels a hand away from Fujigaya’s hip and wraps it around his cock instead, “you definitely have to watch. Don’t you want to see me touch you?”
Fujigaya can only moan brokenly as he obeys, struggling to lift his head and keep his eyes open. It does look good, so good, his cock fucking up into Tamamori’s fist, the glimpses behind that of Tamamori’s cock sliding into him. Fujigaya twists fingers in Tamamori’s sheets and tries to hold on so it will last just a little longer, but he’s too close to the edge. Tamamori purrs another few words about how good Fujigaya looks under him and that’s all it takes before Fujigaya’s orgasm spills out of him in a hot rush over Tamamori’s fingers.
“Mmm,” Tamamori lifts his hand to his mouth to suck two of his fingers clean, and Fujigaya whines from overstimulation as aftershocks chase over his skin. They're only heightened by Tamamori's continuous thrusts, much harder than before, and he's glad that he's already watching Tamamori's face because it looks even better as he gets close.
"Come for me," Fujigaya mutters, barely able to make words at this point, but Tamamori just nods as he tosses his head back and lets go, plunging deep into Fujigaya a few more times before falling still. Fujigaya lifts a shaky hand to push Tamamori's damp bangs out of his face, which has Tamamori smiling as he leans forward to lie right on Fujigaya's heaving chest.
"Hey," Tamamori says awhile later, when they've both regained most of their consciousness (but not enough to move), "did you touch yourself while looking at any of my pictures?"
"Yeah," Fujigaya admits, heat flooding his face as Tamamori glances at him with knowing eyes.
"Damn," Tamamori says. "Next time take a picture of that."
"Now who's the freak?" Fujigaya teases him, but Tamamori just leans up to press their mouths together. It’s all the same to Fujigaya; he’s already plotting his next solo photoshoot.
He’s got a few ideas he might need Kawai’s help for after all.