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All of my comment-box!fic for Ginnie in one entry! :D These are unbeta'd atm--I literally c&p'd these. There are probably spelling errors or grammar issues everywhere, I apologize. I'll go back and check them later, I promise. The longest of these is probably 300 words, tops.

Daisuke couldn't keep his hands off of the kid between scenes, always standing with a hand on his hip or along his back, always playing with the hair at the nape of his neck casually to make him shiver as fingertips traced the top of his t-shirt. Hamao, for his part, never batted him away, always leaned a bit against him, always looking up at him with those lips parted a bit, as if inviting him to swoop down and take that first real, searching kiss.

It was after a day of filming, leaning Hamao up against a tree, when he finally did, his resolve snapping when Hamao's fingers found the inside of his wrist. Hamao squeaked, his hands seizing in the front of his t-shirt, as Daisuke took what he really wanted. Hamao melted against him as a tongue parted his lips, and gasped, breath stuttered against his lips, as Daisuke pulled his head back but slipped one leg between his thighs.

Hamao stared at him, wide-eyed, his mouth working wordlessly, before Daisuke regained his senses and moved to pull harshly away. Hamao's arms wound about his neck and pulled him back down for another gentler, sloppier kiss. Hamao was hesitant, clumsy, and so unbearably cute Daisuke let him have his way, his fingers resting gently on his back above his jeans and rubbing soft circles into his back.

Hamao pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "W-was that okay?" he asked, his voice quiet in the stillness.

Daisuke smiled. "More than okay," he answered, and pulled him close for an embrace.

Kato snapped Good*Come Vol 10 shut with a snap, sniffing. Tomo snatched the magazine from him roughly and flipped directly to the article about Niji-iro no garasu, like Kato had, and read quickly. Then he came to the same solution as Kato: he shut the magazine and threw it at the trashcan.

"I never liked that Watanbe as Gii," sulked Kato, looking unpleasant.

Tomo sighed. "Now, now," he said, "I'm sure he's just embarrassed. Though he should have some consideration for Mao-kun. He may have cried!"

"We Giis need to be gentle with our Takumis," said Kato loftily, "they tend to break easily."

"Yes, Keisu--hey! That's not true."

" cried when I told you I was going to be late to our anniversary dinner because my mother was sick, Tomo."

"IT WAS ONE TIME. Anyway, Mao-kun is resilient! He'll convert Dai-chan soon, I'm sure."

Tomo's phone chose that moment to ring; Tomo leapt on it and opened it. "Mao-kun, what's up?

"T-Tomo-san why is Daisuke so mean?!" wailed Hamao into his ear.

Tomo winced. "He's just leery about saying anything too revealing, Mao-kun!"

"B-but--he--he compared me to a girl, Tomo-san! I don't want to be a girl! I'm a boy! That's my primary selling point! I don't like skirts! WHAT IF HE WANTS ME TO WEAR A SKIRT?!"

Tomo had to hold back a laugh at the mental image, but soothed Hamao with, "I'm sure he knows you're not a girl, Mao-kun, after all you're hardly the girliest boy he knows. No, you don't remind me of Yuuta-san. Of course not! No, he won't make you wear a tennis skirt--what?! No! There will be no dresses, I promise. You have to be into that sort of thing for it to go off well, and I would know, wouldn't I? Yes, Mao-kun, I'm sure he still loves you. Didn't you go on a date last night? No I don't think it was the prelude to a breakup. Mao-kun, why don't you go drop in on him? Show him the poor of youth and tire him out!

Hamao hung up to do exactly that; Tomo felt mildly disgusted with himself, for suggesting something so entirely inappropriate to Hamao, but then he had to fend off Kato and a certain pink dress so he got distracted.

Daisuke looked bashful, though about what Makita had absolutely no clue.

"Makki?" he asked.

"What's up, Dai-san?" he answered, looking up from putting on his eyeliner.

"Do you-- happen to have a copy of 'Soushite harukaze ni sasayaite' with you?" asked the other actor, lookign away.

Makita furrowed his brow. Did he have his copy of that movie? He usually did, but maybe Shougo had borrowed it again...

He reached into his bag, and smiled. "I do!" he announced, handing it up to Daisuke. "You're lucky," he said, "the guys from Hyotei had it all of last week for a watching party, and then Shougo had it for god only knows what reason..."

Daisuke was flushed to the roots of his hair. "E-everybody watches these?!" he managed.

"...well, when somebody they know's in it, yeah," answered Makita guilelessly.

"...oh," said Daisuke faintly as he caught Hamao's back in the mirror.

Makita coughed. "...don't ask Mao-kun out like Nozaki asks Takumi, all righty? It's really kind of a bad idea."

Daisuke's eyes widened, and he stiffened. "I don't have any idea what that could possibly mean, Makki," he answered, and turned to walk back to his station.

"Be careful with my DVD!" called Makita after him, "and remember: no dating tips from Nozaki! Mao wouldn't like being manhandled!"

Takiguchi was in full-on sensei mode, which both aroused and frightened Seto, and all of his attention was on Hamao, who was listening attentively to his nii-chan's 'strategies for punishing your seme--non-foursome edition', his eyes wide. Seto snorted as Takiguchi blithely spoke about handcuffs and teasing (while Hamao's eyes got progressively rounder).

Then Too's thin patience snapped. "Takki," he said, "these ideas really only work for you. You aren't relegated to 'uke'. ...all of the time, anyway."

"Well, Tomo," answered Takiguchi snootily, "what do you suggest he do? From your position of ultimate expereince, and all."

Tomo grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Clearly the response here is to top--he'd never be able to think of you as a girl after that, but the question is how. Which I will leave to Koji. Setomaru, go right ahead."

Seto grinned evilly. "See, you don't really need to top him, Mao-kun," he said conversationally, "since I can already tell you're not a fan. What you can do, however.."


Daisuke didn't know when, exactly, Hamao had managed to get him drunk and shove him into the dress, but maid uniforms were probably the least comfortable things ever created.

"Kyosuke," he said, "why in the world am I..."

"You told that magazine you thought of me as a girl, Dai-chan!" said Hamao, looking devastated.

Daisuke blinked. "...oh," he answered. "Well, if I didn't, wouldn't your mom get me arrested for molestation of a minor? It was hard enough to convince her that doing this at all was a good idea, you know."

" telling the whole world you thought of her son as a woman is going to make her less upset?!"

"Well, when you put it that way... Kyosuke, come here. You know I don't think you're a girl--in fact, that's generally the entire case, isn't it? Kyosuke, d-don't cry!"

Needless to say, Daisuke felt terrible for the next week, and Hamao milked it for all it was worth, looking miserable as much as possible. When Daisuke offered to let him top, Hamao knew he'd won, and burst into a giant smile as he topped his boyfriend mercilessly.

Voice practice wasn't supposed to be this erotic. Hamao Kyousuke was no stranger to inappropriate erections--he was, after all, seventeen--but watching Watanabe Daisuke practice 'This is my best!' in sweats was not what first came to Hamao's mind when he thought 'arousing'. He glared at his crotch balefully, shifting uncomfortably, while Daisuke's voice washed over him from the room next door.

Daisuke looked up from his sheet music long enough to catch Hamao looking at him, and smiled a bit around his words.

Hamao flushed, and smiled back. There was no denying Daisuke's talent, but Hamao hadn't thought he'd had a voice kink before. Now, how to--his mind sprang to his disastrous harmonization attempts in O'One More Step'. He'd been frustrated for ages with it. And if it put Hamao a bit closer to Daisuke, well then...

"Would you give me voic elessons?" he blurted out suddenly. Daisuke froze, surprised, and his voice faltered.

Hamao laughed nervously, "Never mind," he said, "I just--you're so--and I'm so--"

"...sure," said Daisuke, "would you like to come over today and we can take a look at things?"

Hamao nodded furiously. Best day ever.


They'd been at it for two hours, and Hamao could hear that he was getting closer. But he was always a bit too sharp--enough that Daisuke had winced in pain for a good four or five minutes. Now, he knew he could hit the damn note--the problem was doing it every time.

"I'm never going to manage this," he said, frowning.

Daisuke smiled at him, and walked behind him. He lay his hands on Hamao's ribcage. "Breathe," he said.

Hamao was having trouble remembering how to work his lungs at all, screw trying to take a proper breath with relaxed shoulders and high ribcage and everything else.

"Don't push so much," said Daisuke. "Remember what I said about expanding in all directions. You're never going to be able to hit what you want if you don't have the breath support."

Hamao nodded, and tried to ignore his inappropriate hard-on. It was the same one as he'd had earlier--actually, he'd had some kind of a perpetual hard-on all afternoon.

"Now," said Daisuke, his voice soft in Hamao's ear, "try again."

"One mo---dammit," he cursed.

"Almost," said Daisuke mildly.

"Just enough to be completely terrible, I know," answered Hamao. "I'm never going to get this. Why did they assign me this one? I was able to do the lower part, you know!"

"They wanted to give you a challenge," answered Daisuke, "and I'm sure you can handle it. Try again. Draw in breath--remember your diaphragm. You're not raising your ribcage enough. Open up all this space in here." He traced his hand across Hamao's stomach.

Hamao opened his mouth, and sang. "One more step!"

He could feel Daisuke's smile. "I told you," said the other actor.

Hamao whirled, and tackled Daisuke in a hug. "Thank you," he whispered, "thank you thank you thank you."

"Mao--" managed Daisuke, "--of course. Any time."

Hamao grinned. "Can we try it again?" he asked excitedly.

Daisuke laughed. "Of course," he answered.


The reaction to him getting it right the first time at practice was immediate. Shougo made sure the song was finished before he jumped on Hamao with, "you did it~"

Hamao smiled. "I had an excellent tutor," he answered, and looked nowhere near Daisuke.

Daisuke was the one fighting the inappropriate hard-on after that.


Daisuke isn't quite sure when he became Hamao's voice tutor, but it's a name that spread around the cast quick enough that seing the two of them going into a room together wasn't weird, and everyone knew to stay out--Daisuke got grouchy when he was interrupted while teaching, it always distracted Hamao.

So when Daisuke tugged Hamao into the nearest empty room and pushed him up against a wall to kiss the crap out of him, he knew they weren't going to be interrupted.

He pulled away long enough to catch his breath. Hamao smiled. "You're not taking a deep enough breath, Watanabe-sensei," he purred, "so pay attention this time, and remember to lift your ribcage!"

It was only after they filmed the scene on the beach that Hamao asked him to meet him there. Daisuke arrived early, as usual, and stood watching the tide come in, the water dipping across the toes of his shoes.

He heard a noise--he turned--and he yelled when the bucket of water landed on his head and shoulders. He heard Hamao laughing, and reached for him, coming up with only air through his fingertips and sand on his pants as Hamao dashed away.

"Too old to catch up, Daisuke?" teased Hamao, in the water enough to kick some water at Daisuke.

Daisuke grinned. "Not quite," he answered, and ran, tackling Hamao right into the water.

Hamao sputtered as he rose out of the water, his t-shirt sticking to his skin and his hair plastered to his face. Daisuke leaned over him and pushed his bangs from his face before he kissed him softly, once, twice.

"Daisuke..." whispered Hamao, and Daisuke thought once again that every kiss felt like the first one. He bent his head to steal another, hands on Hamao's shoulders.

Hamao promptly flipped them, roaring with laughter when Daisuke rose out of the water like some bedraggled creature of the depths. Daisuke splashed Hamao furiously before he caught him at the edge of the water.

Hamao smiled up at him, and Daisuke ignored the seashells digging into his kneecaps to lower his head again.

Behind them, the sun set.

"I'm not a fan of these jeans," said Hamao, out of the blue.

Daisuke looked at him, his brow furrowed. "...this morning, you said you loved these pants. Why the change?"

"...the cuts are too high up on your legs to be worn in public," answered Hamao, looking like he felt perfectly justified. Daisuke knew that was probably the truth. Hamao had strange ideas about things, sometimes.

"...they were fine when I met you on our way here, though?"

"You were standing then! When you sit down it's much worse." Hamao was looking more and more pouty, and Daisuke sighed. He could never hope to resist that face, ever.

"What do you suggest I do about it, Mao?" he asked, expecting Hamao to reach for his sweatpants and make him wear those.

Instead, Hamao settled unceremoniously onto his lap. Daisuke blinked, but Hamao only wiggled his butt a bit on Daisuke's thigh. Daisuke settled a hand gently on Hamao's waist, talking in his ear about the way Hamao looked in his blazer and shirt, the things he wanted to do with that tie, as revenge. Hamao's badly disguised shivering made him barely even notice the return of the photographer, until Yamada was sidling up to make the picture look more like friends hanging out and less like boyfriends flirting.

Daisuke treated Yamada to lunch the next day.

Daisuke slid his hand down Hamao's side achingly slowly, making Hamao's breath hitch.

"Shhhh," hushed Daisuke, his lips moving over Hamao's shoulder.

"Daisuke--" managed Hamao, pushing back as that hand slid down and caressed his length. Hamao spread his legs wantonly as fingers fondled his balls and ran up the length of his cock. Hamao moaned.

Daisuke's hand moved, and his mouth latched onto Hamao's neck to suck at it.

"D-Dai--" stuttered Hamao, and Daisuke leaned up to kiss him on the mouth.

"Go ahead," he whispered against Hamao's lips as he pulled away. Then his strokes sped up, and Hamao was coming all over the sheets.

Daisuke knew Hamao could feel his entirely, well, appropriate erection as they filmed this damn bed scene for the third time today. The director called cut, and Daisuke buried his face in Hamao's hair to say in a muffled voice only Hamao could hear clearly, "I hope you have plans to stay over tonight, because I have plans for you."

Hamao flushed, but smiled.<.lj-cut>

Furukawa was hungry, damn it, and he told Daisuke so when the other man opened his hotel door, still a bit damp and toweling his hair.

"Does that mean you want dinner?" the other man asked, "I mean, I just got out of the shower but I can be ready in a few."

Furukawa beamed. "Good!" he said, "why don't you drag Mao along? Toyo was the one who invited me, after all!" He leaned around Watanabe, using his superior height to his advantage, and realized their red-headed actor was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Mao?" he asked curiously. He could have sworn Mao had said he wanted to call his mother now that he was settled in the hotel."

"Still in the shower," answered Daisuke, wiping his shoulders down with his towel.

He froze.

"I just said still, didn't I," he said, his voice flat.

"...yeah," answered Furukawa. Then he grinned. "Well, I'll go fetch Toyo, you go fetch Mao, okay~~"

"Sure," answered Daisuke, scratching his scalp distractedly.

"Oi," he called into the open bathroom, "hurry up, dinner in ten!"

"Okay," called back Hamao, in the middle of shampooing.

"...Yun totally knows, by the way."

"I hope so! I've been going to him for advice for ages now!"



Toyoda looked around; he had Daisuke on one side, Hamao on the other, and Furukawa across from him, looking entirely too amused to be normal.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit next to me, Toyo?" asked Furukawa sweetly.

"I-I'm good," answered Toyoda. When had Yun become Fuji for real?!

"How's the water pressure in your shower, Toyo?" asked Furukawa, in the middle of their meal.

Daisuke almost choked on his rice; Hamao colored to the roots of his hair. Toyoda blinked. "Good," he reported dutifully, looking between Hamao and Daisuke.

"Mao? Dai-chan? How's yours? Is it big enough?"

"I-it's just fine, Yun," said Daisuke, "plenty of room."

"I'm glad," said Furukawa, "I'd hate for things to be cramped in there~"

Toyoda was not looking forward to the bus rides this week.

Hamao woke with a start, no breath in his lungs and eight thirty-two on the display on Daisuke's bedside table.

"Dai-chan, shouldn't we get up?" mumbled Hamao into his boyfriend's arm, thrown across his chest and bent over his face.

Daisuke mumbled something, and shifted his arm so he could lean over him. "Shut up and go back to sleep, Mao," he said, his hair falling all around his face.

"You'd insist on a morning hello picture and you're not picture-worthy right now," he continued, dropping his head to Hamao's chin and kissing it; he followed along his jaw, to his neck. Hamao tightened his fingers in Daisuke's hair, shifting his legs apart for a searching left hand trailing across his thighs.

"D-Daisuke," he stammered, as that head trailed down his chest. That hand was joined by lips, and Hamao couldn't even remember the next few minutes, swept up by pleasure and heat and Daisuke's head bobbing up and down between his legs.

His orgasm left him so tired he didn't even think about making his way out of bed.

"We are not getting up before noon," said Daisuke firmly, "at least...not out of bed, anyhow."

"I hate your hair in this picture, take it down," ordered Hamao suddenly. His hair was perfectly coiffed, flat and not whatever-the-hell-that-is-Watanabe-Daisuke. He glanced up from his laptop to glare at the man lying on his bed, shirtless and lazy after a full day of taking Hamao out and making out. Lots of making out..

"But I like it, and isn't that all that counts?" asked Daisuke cheekily.

"No," answered Hamao darkly.

"It's stays up anyway," said Daisuke, firmly.

Hamao sighed. "Fine," he said, and shut his laptop. He placed it next to him on his chair, patted Roku's head as he placed the cat on the floor, and padded over to the bed. He straddled Daisuke, pulling off his t-shirt, and leaned down to kiss him.

Daisuke murmured appreciatively as his hands moved to squeeze Hamao's ass; Hamao wiggled into the pressure while his hands moved to Daisuke's hair, messing it up so that both sides looked huge. He pulled back, grinning at his handiwork, and promptly returned to his chair, grabbing Roku as he did.

Daisuke groaned piteously, his jeans tented, and turned over to glare at Hamao through his mountain of hair.

Then he stood. He pulled his belt from the loops and placed it carefully on the bed, closing in on Hamao. Hamao gulped.

"Kyosuke, you have to be in bed in half an hour!" called his mother from the other side of his bedroom door.

Daisuke sighed.

Hamao grinned. "Half an hour's plenty of time," he said, and let Roku escape as he tackled Daisuke back onto the bed.

Takiguchi felt something give under their combined weights; he froze when he realized he was leaning on the microwave.

"Keisuke," he said suddenly. Keisuke didn't even notice, his mouth too busy on Takiguchi's neck.

"Keisuke," he said again, shivering as Keisuke's tongue flicked over his nipple.

"KEISUKE," he nearly yelled, his voice urgent.

Keisuke pulled away. "Takki, what's wrong?"

"Move," said Takiguchi, and slid off the counter. Witrh some dread, he turned around. Yep. The microwave was broken.

"Keisuke, you made me break the microwaaaaave~" he wailed, tears coming to his eyes as he sank to the floor.

Keisuke's eyes widened, and all thought of how Takiguchi's ass had looked in his jeans and apron when he came in that afternoon were forgotten as he tried to get Takiguchi to stop crying.

Needless to say, Keisuke didn't get any that night, and he had to hold off buying a new pair of shoes in order to replace the microwave.

Tomo panted as he tried to get his breath back, and took a water bottle from a staff member. He drank it quickly (though he knew he shouldn't have) somehow managing to get more down his shirt than in his mouth, but he was tired. He pulled on his clothes, toweled his hair dry, and gathered his things together. He had grabbed his bag and was packing away some of his things when he heard a knock at his door; he glanced up.

"Come on in," he said.


It was Keisuke--and Takiguchi, it looked like. Tomo dropped his bag and accepted Keisuke's embrace, melting against him a bit. Keisuke smiled. Takiguchi waited for all of fifteen seconds (Tomo counted) before shoving Keisuke out of the way and jumping on Tomo, crushing the breath from his lungs (lovingly, of course). Tomo settled his head on Takiguchi's shoulder and breathed taking in the scent of Takiguchi's cologne. He slipped his hands into the front pocket of Takiguchi's sweatshirt and closed his eyes. This was nice. The good thing about Takiguchi was that he hugged you without any groping, unlike Keisuke and Seto.

Keisuke coughed, breaking them apart with sighs, and handed Tomo a bag sheepishly. Tomo saw the Starbucks logo, but the jewelry box inside was decidedly not a Starbucks pattern.

"...I'm not going to be able to make it to the closing night, so I figured I'd give it to you know..." said Keisuke, looking uncertain.

Tomo's face lit up like a light bulb, and he smiled. "Thank you, Keisuke!"

"Oi, it's from me, too," said Takiguchi, "and so is this," he continued, and handed Tomo a bag with a bottle of juice.

"I figured you could use it," he said, shrugging.

Tomo nodded. "Thank you, too, Takki," he said, and took the drink gratefully.

Keisuke interrupted suddenly. "Let's go the McDonald's, I'm hungry," he said.

Tomo and Takiguchi shared a wry glance. Tomo said, "let me finish packing first," he answered.

He tried to carry his other bag, a white shopping bag stuffed with his sweatshirt and a change of clothes, but Takiguchi took it firmly in hand, shaking his head at Tomo.

Keisuke insisted they take pictures together, and had a passing staff member take two pictures; one with (one of) Takiguchi's cell phones, and the other with Tomo's. Keisuke begged Takiguchi for the picture (his own camera had recently been a bit shaky), and made it his wallpaper (replacing an image of Tomo and Seto curled up in his bed, which had been his wallpaper for the last several weeks).

They left the theater and walked into the McDonald's. There were some whispers and glances, but Tomo knew better than to look at them. Having three actors together sometimes made the fangirls a little more bold, but Keisuke's irritated face was keeping them away (for as irreverent and amused as he usually was, he did a pretty good scary acting job).

They had ordered and gotten back to their table, and were deep in conversation when Tomo suddenly realized their square table was missing a member at one side. He sighed.

"It's too bad Seto's been to busy with filming to come," he said.

The sound Keisuke made at that made Tomo look up; he looked irritated. "Kiva filming is no excuse for missing your show," he answered, "and besides, we don't have filming at night."

Tomo nodded. Then he saw a flash of familiar hair (and technicolor jeans).

"Seto!" he hissed as their final member of their foursome ordered. Seto glanced around, but he didn't notice them (perhaps he had missed Keisuke's terrible red plaid shirt that morning). So Tomo rose and tugged on Seto's shirt as he looked for an unoccupied table. Seto's face went from blank to surprised in all of two seconds, and he grinned.

"Yanagishita!" he said, mindful of the curious fans.

"Seto, why don't you come sit with us?" he asked.

Seto's eyes hit Keisuke and Takiguchi, who had turned and were looking at him curiously.

"Sure," he answered, and followed.


"Now," said Keisuke with an evil little leer, "do you understand why not seeing Tomo's play is not acceptable?"

Seto tried to move his hips up to rub against Keisuke's leg; the handcuffs prevented him from doing anything else.

Takiguchi's hand on his hip like steel stopped him short, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that was probably a strangled form of 'yes please God just do it already'.

Keisuke's eyebrows rose, and he leaned closer. Seto managed a choked, "y-yes!"

Keisuke smirked, and moved back, tugging Tomo forward so he fell atop Seto. Seto tried to grind against his lover's hip, but Tomo rose away quickly. Then he moved between Seto's legs at Keisuke's insistence. Keisuke guided Tomo to Seto's entrance and leaned, and both Tomo and Seto moaned.

Keisuke made sure Tomo had a rhythm up before he grabbed Takiguchi and pointed to Tomo's behind. Takiguchi looked up at him, and smiled. Keisuke spread Tomo's legs from behind, who parted them with familiarity. He was soon pushing back against Takiguchi's fingers between his forward thrusts, and Keisuke prompted Takiguchi forward while he moved to Seto's mouth; he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

Seto's lips parted and Keisuke slid inside. It didn't take long, now that things were in motion.


Seto, snuggled close against Tomo afterwards, suddenly had a wicked idea. Even with the chafing from the handcuffs, that had been the most fun he had had in ages.

"So," he said, his voice slightly muffled by Tomo's messy hair, "if I don't show up again, will I get punished some more?"

"Yes," said Takiguchi into Keisuke's throat, "you'll get no sex at all."

Tomo sighed. "Seto, why didn't you just say that you have so much work it's making you sick?"

Seto shrugged. "It was more fun to act like I just didn't show up," he answered, "and besides, Keisuke was being all righteously angry at me, he wouldn't listen."

Keisuke snored in response; Tomo laughed, and Takiguchi realized that when Keisuke woke up the first person he was going for was going to be the man close against his side.

"I hate you both," he said flatly.

"Ha ha," said Seto, "this is what you get for not defending me properly!"

"He's going to be so horny when he gets up," whined Takiguchi, "why didn't I tell him to fuck me?! At least then he wouldn't be getting up a couple of times tonight!"

"...if you're exhausted from some other activities, we can probably convince him to leave you alone," said Seto with an evil grin, the curve of his lips hidden in the back of Tomo's head. He moved his hips (and erection) against Tomo's behind subtly.

Tomo sighed. "He wants to do me while I do you," he said, "he's been humping me for the past five minutes."

Takiguchi grinned, and began wiggling free of Keisuke's arm.

Seto almost couldn't believe it--this was the end. the end of Kiva. It hadn't really registered before, even on the last day of filming, until this, the last live. He hadn't been able to hold back, at the end; he'd had to hug Keisuke, never mind the people watching. And now, now that things were done, and they were alone in Keisuke's apartment...

Keisuke had settled on the couch easily,his arm slipping around Seto's shoulders and pulling him close. Seto curled up against him, and after a few moments of silence, he said, "I'm gonna miss that."

Keisuke smiled into Seto's brown hair. "Of course," he answered, "but then at least we have this, right?"

Seto looked up at him with a smile. Their faces slowly drew closer until they were kissing, and after a moment Seto sat up and shifted into Keisuke's lap. Keisuke cupped Seto's face in his hands and kissed him, first softly and then with more heat. It didn't take long for things to get more heated, his hands unbuttoning Seto's shirt and Seto's fingers working under the hem of his shirt and roaming.

They settled back on the couch afterward; Keisuke hadn't even had to get up to get the tissues, since there were convenient tissue boxes all around every conceivable place to be doing anything (and around some not-so-conceivable places, but Keisuke knew better than to suggest there was a place Seto hadn't considered). Keisuke cleaned them both up and settled back down, pulling Seto against his chest. Seto's eyes fluttered shut, and Keisuke smiled weakly with the force of the warm feeling swelling in his chest.

Daisuke fully expected the first kiss for the camera to be the last. It wasn't like they didn't kiss off-set, after all.

"Cut!" said the director. For the fifth time. Hamao sighed, looking dejected.

"Watanabe-san," said the director gently, "there's still too much passion. Giichi is trying to be gentle with Takumi here, you have to hold it back."

Daisuke didn't know how he was expected to do that, with Hamao looking so eminently fuckable. But he nodded. Perhaps if he approached it like he had their first kiss--

The camera started rolling, and Daisuke leaned close, his lips brushing across Hamao's once, twice, before settling gently there. Hamao leaned forward, silently asking for more, but he resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground and pulled slowly back, his hooded eyes slowly reopening.


Later, Hamao will take the initiative, tackling him in the dressing room and attacking him with a tongue right between his lips and hands insistent under his shirt. Daisuke will manage to recover and return the favor until they are skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest, in their dressing room while Takiguchi and Takahashi do stupid Tenimyu impressions on the other side of the door. Hamao will have to gasp Daisuke's name down his throat while they move together, to avoid revealing what everyone already knows but won't admit. And it will be the better kind of kiss, the one about the passion and the connection, but Daisuke will appreciate the one light one, the one that spoke about love and devotion, just as much. He is almost upset it will end up on film for all to see, and not be kept in the private movie theater inside his head.
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