A/N: Double release in revenge against work and thanks to ktoll, Aki, and Paulagato who are just crazy enough to read and review the same day I wrote XD You guys made my night!

Open to Imagination

He stared at her back as she walked back to set but he couldn't actually see her. His entire vision was focused inwards, his mind racing. Someone else. Only one person's image filled his mind. The reason he wrote Chocolate. Sho licked his lips, rubbing his fingers together in memory. Millions of excuses sprang to mind to prevent the leap he was tempted to take. It wasn't ethical, imagining just anyone. It wasn't moral. Probably. He rubbed his jaw with his hand, his eyes still staring unseeing at the set. He's a friend, he told himself. It wouldn't fit the scene. He needed to find someone who was more than a friend.

Imagine me as whoever I need to be to make you want me.

Mimori-san. Kyoko was right; Mimori-san would work best. After all, he knew what it felt like to kiss Poochi. That would definitely help with acting out of his imagination. Sho clenched his fists and stalked after Kyoko. This was such a cop-out; he should be able to do this just with Kyoko. But he knew he would freeze again-too much unresolved tension lay between them still and all of it ran contrary to desire. If this was as close as he could get to satisfying his and her professional commitments, he needed to do it. He got himself into this mess trying to help a friend, and now another person - another friend? - needed him to get her through it. The strategy left a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach though.

He traced his eyes down over her frame as he followed her anyways, forcing himself to mentally enhance each of her features. Wider hips, swaying side to side under the red silk. Pouty lips, eager to kiss him. Massive, bouncing boobs freely hanging under the kimono. Sho bit his tongue. They'd just get in the way when she sparred. Giant boobs were totally impractical. And Poochi was not even the best kisser. Too… enthusiastic. Too desperate to please him.

But her boobs were squeezable and soft and perfect for burying faces in! Sho mentally shouted at himself in frustration, shaking his head to clear out the nonsense. He knew his tastes. Even Kyoko knew his tastes! He took his place behind Kyoko, gripping her arm and holding his face inches away from her bare skin. He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye as she whispered to him. "No more NGs, Shoutaro. I'm ready to be done with this MV." He merely huffed in response and looked down over the front of her kimono, reciting bigger boobs, bouncy boobs in his head. Stinking hard to imagine realistically on her frame. Someone muscular and lean would be far easier. His lyrics started playing in the background. He could just barely hear Shoko muttering to the director about auditory inspiration for singer-songwriters being a necessary tool.

Feeling you is my craving

Can't sustain these boundaries

Your breath brands my skin

A sudden rush, a call to sin

My drug I'm collapsing into you

He felt his own breath rushing back over his face, reflecting off Kyoko's skin. Kyoko wanted one take. Could he make this scene work with Poochi? His lyrics drew out too many memories and he felt his hand twitch involuntarily, craving that touch again. He should risk it for Kyoko. No one would ever know. Give her what she wanted in one take-all he needed to do was let go of trying to control this need. The director called "Action" and Sho freed his breath and his imagination in one rush.

He let himself feel need for him. He let her body become his as he sank into his mind's eye, allowing the lyrics and the touches to become more realistic than his sense of sight. Sho felt himself shift and didn't resist. The person in front of him moved against him, their sparring dance beginning.

Each attack, each thrust of a knee, each grunt, each twist was just a tool for him to draw this person closer. Sho caught every single one, his movements firm but gentle as he slowly drew them in closer and tighter. He could feel their pulse beat rapidly against his palm as he gripped their wrist, twisting it up and out in the blocking motion as their other hand chopped through, aiming for his neck. He turned, letting go of their wrist, feeling their heat behind him. Their robe rustled against his as their leg swung out in a kick and Sho ducked, his body following the memorized choreography as his senses reveled in the anticipation of the next touch. He spun up and around, rising from under the kick to grip them around the back of their neck, pressing his face close to theirs as he slid his hand slowly down the line of their shoulder, catching the edge of their kimono. He felt their skin shiver beneath his hand, their body responding to his touch. He wanted more.

He breathed deeply as he pulled the robe down, exposing bare skin to the sun. He felt his own robe give to their tug and smiled, his eyes blazing as he shifted his shoulders and let it drop to his waist. He could tell by the way their hands touched his skin that they wanted him too - lingering, tracing, holding out a pause too long before lifting off to attack again. It was intoxicating, knowing that his need was returned. They could deny it as long as they wanted to; he would force it out of them. The spar became a dance, arms intertwining and releasing before joining together, pressing up tight against each other. He could feel their breath on his chest, then a chill as they retreated. He blocked a kick and spun in to grip their waist, leaning forward to press himself fully into their body. They slid down, their hands resting on his bare waist as they pushed down and back, seemingly torn between finding the angle for securing release from his hold and diving in deeper. Sho wanted to force the issue. He was desperate to end the dance and claim them as his own. He could feel his heart racing with adrenaline from his need.

There! An opening. Sho's leg darted in, white robes swirling against red as he hooked his foot behind their knee and jerked, pushing down and back on their shoulder even as he wrapped his arm around their waist to fall together. They twisted at the last second, pushing up and forwards on their planted foot, spinning Sho around with a gasp so he fell first, their weight falling on top of him. Sho didn't hesitate-his arms reached up, his eyes closing as he moved to pull them down into his kiss.

He couldn't - their arms were planted with elbows locked - this wasn't the script. Sho's eyes shot open and he cursed as he saw not Koga but Kyoko staring out beyond him, her eyes fixated on something past the edge of the set. "CUT!" rang out across the beach for the third time.

Sho pushed her off him quickly, trying to regain his bearings. His fall into chaos had been swift and unsettling. If she was going to make him do it again, he desperately needed time to compose himself. He turned to berate her. She was on her knees on the ground, a strange half-smile flitting across her lips. Her eyes were starting to glow with the oddest display of delirious joy. It was almost frightening. Sho followed her gaze and saw a tall, blonde foreigner standing no more than ten paces away from their set, his fists clenched as he stared murderously at Sho. Sho stared back at him, confused as to what the man's business with him was but ready for anything. A senseless fight would be perfect for releasing his adrenaline. He might be able to just make it through a second take without losing his mind if he could punch someone. A crew member was rushing over to shoo away the interloper when Kyoko surged to her feet and started running toward him, shouting, "Corn!"

"Corn…?" Sho said, his voice full of disbelief. "What the f-" He heard a buzz erupt behind him on set and turned to see the director angrily gesturing at Kyoko and he. Crap, they were wasting time. He looked back, ready to grab Kyoko, but the odd foreigner had turned and was rapidly stalking off into the forest. Kyoko was actually running after him!

"Kyoko! Get back here!" He shouted in disbelief. All that nonsense about being professional and now she's chasing giant Russian men into the woods in the middle of their shoot. "Director-sama!" he turned and bowed to the man, his pride grating against the move. He needed to get her back. "I will fetch her, please await us!" He paused a beat to wait for the man's curt nod, then raced off after her. He heard the director muttering about irresponsible, overpaid talent as he struggled to run with his kimono tangling around his legs.

This made them even.