DISCLAIMER: This author claims no ownership of SKIP BEAT! or its characters.
Warning: NSFW.
Room 203:
VI. Mr. and Mrs. Hizuri
He woke up alone in the bed, sated and warm. Clearing his eyes he could see that she'd walked over to the balcony—the opposite end of their villa overlooked the wide Pacific. His wife was dressed in the peignoir he'd bought her, and he could see the outline of her body through the sheer white lace. She was lit in the morning sun, an angelic figure against the brilliant blue of the wide horizon beyond. Pleased, he saw that she wore nothing underneath but another white bikini. The wind blew her hair back from her face. They were on a high cliff and the surf below made a constant sound, an ebb and flow of white noise as the rocks crashed against the waves.
He watched silently from the bed. He watched as she stretched her arms to welcome the wind, watched as the lace blew back like the wings of a bird. He heard her giggle and twirl with her arms raised overhead, dancing as if no one was watching.
He supposed she thought he was still asleep.
He considered rising to join her—he certainly wanted to, and in more ways than one. But he didn't want to interrupt her. His darling wife, so innocent and carefree, disarmed and disarming—who was he to curtail any of her joy? She was communing with fairies, no doubt. Or their seafaring brethren, whatever they were called. He'd stay here. Loving Kyoko could be done in silence. He could worship her from a distance if he needed to, observe her without interrupting her. Say what you would about her villain roles—he knew her soul was filled with light.
It was their last morning here.
He didn't want it to be their last—he didn't want any of this to end. Much as he loved his work as an actor, they didn't get enough time to just sit and enjoy each other. But their jet had been chartered to take them back to Japan in time to film a late-night talk show. They needed to promote their latest film, after all, and the time off had been possible only because of Yashiro's extraordinary efforts. Kuon understood that the show had wanted them for Valentine's day, but there was no way he was going to miss out on the time with his wife. Yashiro had offered them the Monday immediately following, and they'd accepted eagerly.
"I can feel you watching me, Kuon," he heard. The angel turned around and walked towards him.
He simply smiled at her, moving the blanket partially off of him, extending a single hand forward. Sunlight lit his hair in a blaze of gold, and she admired the sight of his body, half obscured by the blanket just enough to keep his cock from her view. She knew what he wanted. When she got close enough, he grabbed her around her waist and dragged her into the bed with him as she giggled. "Good," he said. "I'm glad you could feel me."
She shrugged off the peignoir and snuggled into him. "I didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly," she said. She took her hand and brushed a lock of hair from his face, smoothing it behind his ear.
"I can't sleep terribly long without you," he said. He always had trouble sleeping on nights they were apart. He pulled her closer to him so that her back was against his chest. She purred and breathed him in contentedly as he ran a hand up and down her curves.
"Mmmm," she said, and he kissed the tip of her earlobe. He could see his lovemarks all over her body—on her neck, her breasts, her thighs. In a way, it pleased him that her body showed the marks of his love. It satisfied the possessive streak in him, made him want to mark her more. She turned around to face him and they were lying on their sides, facing each other in bed. All throughout the weekend, he'd been her Master. She'd been happy to be his slave. But in the morning light they were meeting as equals. She knew there would be no games.
"You never get enough, do you?" she asked.
In response he closed the gap between them, tilting her head up as he kissed just the tip of her nose. "Never," he said. For a while he was content to let the heat build between them, gazing into her eyes as he ran his hands through her hair. His eyes gazed into hers, which closed as he kissed the edge of her lips and then her eyelids. When his lips met hers she opened her mouth to feel him inside her. The kiss was gentle, reverent. She leaned into him and his hands became more demanding, more insistent as it deepened. Her hands, too, sought him, entwining in his hair as he groaned into their kiss.
"Touch me, then," she whispered. He was only too eager to comply.
Hands divested her of her top and she groaned as his mouth found its way to her hardened nipples. Hands squeezed and rubbed them as she gasped. She knew he'd be hard for her when he woke—wasn't he always? But somehow it was never just a routine. Every atom in her body wanted him—wanted him all the time, if she was honest. She felt his hands touch the edge of the bikini. "Too much clothing," he growled, and the string bikini was promptly undone and disposed of. She was fully naked now, and thrilled at how his skin touched her own. His hand had found the seat of her pleasure and she gasped as his finger circled her clit before dipping down into her wetness. He wasn't surprised at it…he knew how her body needed his. He hadn't stopped teasing and licking her nipples and she was moaning as she arched her back towards him. His erection was large and hard against her thighs and her hips were moving on his finger of their own accord.
"You're still so tight," he groaned. He had two fingers in her now, curled upwards as she gasped into his kisses. "So tight…" Even after the debauchery he'd subjected her to, her pretty little pussy was still beautiful.
"Kuon," she groaned, and he threw the blankets off of them. He kissed his way down to her pussy and then spread her legs.
"Mmmm," she moaned, and his tongue was on her. Fingering her all the while, holding her down as her hips bucked forward, he took her clit into his mouth and then released it, following the intensity of his action with softer licks on her cunt.
"Please, Kuon," she begged.
"Please what?" he asked.
"Please—you know—"
He took pity on her. He'd teased her for the last few days and she'd taken everything he'd had to give without complaint. He could have taken his revenge on her for the torture she'd subjected him to yesterday, but he knew he wouldn't. She was too lovely and he wanted to feel the way her cunt spasmed in his mouth when she came. His fingers moved faster, harder, his tongue in tandem with them on her clit. She was fighting to close her legs around him but he kept them spread, and he brought her over. Screaming his name, she came and he lapped up her juices as she did.
He was painfully hard. She watched dazedly as he repositioned them, and then moved to take him into her mouth. She wanted to taste him, too, before he spent in her. He stopped, kneeling on the bed, as she took his cock into her mouth. She was bent over, supporting herself on all fours like a bitch in heat as she took his cock hungrily. He placed a hand on her head to guide her rhythm, groaning quietly as his cock slipped into her throat.
Insistently, he felt her hand stroke his balls, felt himself moving against her instinctively.
"Stop," he said. "Kyoko—"
She whimpered, not willing to let his cock go quite yet.
"I'm going to cum if you don't stop," he said.
"Mmm," she hummed. He groaned, feeling the vibration from her throat. She redoubled her efforts, her hand joining her mouth as it jacked him off. The friction and the heat…the wetness of her mouth…he wasn't going to last much longer…
She felt his cock harden and expand even further and she nearly choked, but she knew he was close—she wasn't going to stop now, not when he was about to cum.
"Ah," he cried out. Reflexively he grabbed her head, thrusting forward as he came in her mouth. She swallowed his cum, and when they parted her lips were red from her efforts and her eyes glassy.
"Fuck, Kyoko," he said. He was still hard as his cock slipped out of her mouth. He pushed her onto her back; she fell with a soft huff, wiping her face. He could see how wet she was for him, how needy. Not caring that her mouth still tasted of him, he kissed her as her arms enfolded him. He had his cock in-hand and positioned it at the entrance of her pussy, moving it up and down her slit until she groaned in frustration.
"Tell me what you want," he asked.
"You," she whispered. "I want you—" The last word turned into a wail as he filled her. Dear god she was tight—she was always tight—this was the best and the only pussy in the world, as far as he was concerned. He supported himself with his arms as he leaned over her, watching her close her eyes and moan as he began pumping into her. She was moving with him, her legs entwining around him to keep him inside of her.
He took a hand and moved it to her clit as he fucked, and she moaned as the sensations overtook her. "It's too much," she whimpered, "Kuon—it's too much—"
He grinned in satisfaction as he felt her pussy clench around him, and then he swallowed her cries with his kisses. She was crying out but he refused to stop. He wanted to feel it over and over—wanted her absolutely senseless with bliss underneath him. The sound of their coupling was obscene, and he looked down as his well-lubed cock penetrated her tiny hole.
He removed himself from her entirely; she whimpered at the loss of his cock. "Don't worry, love," he said. "We're not done yet." He lifted her body off of the bed and then flipped her over. Instinctively she pressed her upper body down onto the bed and offered herself, ass-up, as he licked her once more. She cried out again as he entered her, feeling him deeper inside her as he thrust forward. This time, he drove into her without mercy or hesitation, moving towards his own orgasm as she cried out below.
He raised her up, clinging to her, thrusting upwards as his hands cupped her breasts. "I love you," he rasped. His voice was hoarse, out of breath. She gasped as his hand found her clit once again, and now he was twisting and pinching her nipple as his other hand rubbed her clit. She found her own hand atop his, guiding it, bringing both of them to a release and then she felt him cum. One thrust, deep, so deep inside of her, filling her with himself. It brought her over too, and she clenched around him, slumping forward as her own ecstasy overtook her.
They collapsed onto the bed, panting. He kept himself inside of her for as long as he could, holding her tight against his flushed, sweaty body. "I don't want to leave," he whispered.
"I don't, either," she said.
"Five more minutes?" he asked.
"Ten."
"Done."
They dozed for an hour.
When they woke up it was time to pack and go.
=.=.=.=
"Welcome to Entertainment Roundup, ladies and gentlemen," Asato-san was saying. "We have quite the show for you tonight!"
Kyoko and Kuon were waiting for the end of the opening monologue and the cue for their entrance backstage. "Do I look OK?" Kyoko whispered to him.
"Of course," he said. "No one is more beautiful than my Kyoko."
"No, that's not what I mean, Kuon!" She motioned to her neck. "Can you tell?"
"Not at all," he said. "Ten did a great job."
"As always," she said. "I'm glad Lory insisted on having her do hair and makeup tonight. The TBM artists are great but, well—"
"Yeah," he said. "They don't know about my super-kinky wife."
"Me?!" she asked, her eyes widening in mock outrage. "Oh Kyoko, please be my birthday slave," she mocked.
"Ohh, so we're going there?" he laughed. "I'm not sure you want to go there, Kyoko." He was cornering her against the wall in a kabedon, and was just about to kiss those red-painted lips when he heard Yashiro hiss behind them.
"For God's sake, you two," he was saying. "You just got back. Didn't you get enough?"
"Never," they both said together. But Kuon smiled into his wife's eyes and backed off—only to find her hand reaching for his. They smiled quietly as Yashiro shook his head. Handholding he could live with—at least they weren't making out in open view of the cameras.
"And now, without further ado, Kuon and Kyoko!" they heard.
"Showtime," Kuon said. Kyoko nodded, letting go of his hand.
Yashiro watched them both as they put on a veneer of professionalism. Their actor-selves, he thought. One would never know they'd been acting like horny teenagers just seconds earlier.
"Welcome," Asato-san said. Kyoko had settled herself on the loveseat next to Kuon, her long legs crossed demurely. Kuon was leaning slightly forward, angled towards his wife. Asato looked at them, wondering if they even knew they had gravitated towards each other.
"Now, Mr. and Mrs. Hizuri," he asked.
Kyoko's eyebrows rose. No one ever referred to them as "Mr. and Mrs." She still went by her first name, alone.
"Our model couple," Asato continued. "We tried to get you in for our Valentine's show," he said. "But I heard you were busy?"
"Quite," Kuon replied. Kyoko beamed at him. "It was my birthday weekend, too." Catcalls and applause rose from the audience. He flashed his Jacob's Ladder smile at them as Asato chuckled.
"You have quite a way with the crowd, sir," he said. "But I have it on good authority that the two of you went to the beach."
"Did we?" Kyoko asked, playfully. She and Kuon were looking at each other again, and the camera caught everything—how they smiled at each other, how their bodies always seemed to move together. Even without touching it was clear they were lovers.
"I might've heard something like that," Kuon said. "Maybe." He smiled playfully at Asato, who guffawed. "But I thought we were here to talk about Maze?"
"Oh but you two are so much more interesting," Asato said. He leaned his head onto his hands, grinning. "I didn't see anything in Maze that topped this, for example." He motioned and the audience saw the image—Kuon was rising from the sea with Kyoko princess-carried in his arms. She was dressed in her bikini, he was bare from the waist up. They were looking at each other adoringly and lit by the golden afternoon sun.
A collective gasp rose from the audience. Kyoko was half afraid the women had fainted. "Looks like the beach to me," Asato said.
"Now now," Kyoko drawled—she was looking over at Kuon, who was watching her. She had to diffuse the situation—she knew how protective Kuon was of her, and this photo was really quite harmless. Any inkling of distress from her and he'd deploy the lawyers on this poor man—and only after holding his own fist down. "Looks like you caught us," she said with a smirk. "But in my defense, it was his birthday weekend."
"Some birthday," Asato whistled. The picture was terribly sweet, and he knew it. He'd never met the Hizuris before, and rumor had it that they were as real as it got in showbiz love. The scene was full of fakes and cheaters—god knows, his own wife had been one of them. But in person, he could see that they were the real deal. Nevermind the fact that they made amazing movies, separately and together. Nevermind the fact that Kyoko was a remarkable chameleon, or that Kuon was one of the best action stars he'd ever seen. The fact was, their love and affection for each other was palpable. It gave him hope. It made him happy.
"Now about that movie…" Kyoko was saying.
Asato allowed himself to be wooed, barely noticing that it was Kyoko, not him, who ran that interview.
=.=.=.=
"He was an asshole," Kuon was saying.
"Yes, but it was easy enough to talk him back onto the movie," Kyoko responded. Kuon had wanted to deploy the lawyers, after all. Kyoko had argued back—it was a public beach, wasn't it? They were fully clothed, weren't they? And they were married. It was hardly news, and yet they both knew it would be all over the tabloids tomorrow.
Kyoko shrugged. "And you know what they say," she told him. "Any publicity is good publicity."
Kuon pouted. "I don't think he takes you seriously as an actress," he said.
"Does it matter? There's always going to be some toxic ape-man who doesn't take me seriously as an actress." She tutted as she untied his tie. "I'm sure there are people out there who think of you as a pretty face too, Kuon."
"If there are, they aren't as vocal about it in the press," he responded. "It isn't fair how it's always the women who get the raw end of the deal."
"No," she said. "It's not fair." It was why they'd kept their dating secret in the beginning—because the heat would've landed on her, and not on him. Would her career have survived it?
Chances are it would have, with all of the might and machinery Lory could muster. But she was glad she'd never had to find out.
"Now," she said, shoving him onto a chair. It was the same one he'd tied her to, just a few days ago. "I want you."
Still dressed in the black sheath she'd worn on the show, she straddled him as her hand pulled her zipper down. He obliged her by pulling it down further, and she shimmied it off, rubbing herself on his trousers all the while.
He stared at the body she'd revealed. A strapless bra accented her pert breasts. A garter belt held up her stockings. His mind went blank when he realized she hadn't been wearing underwear—he could smell her arousal from here.
All thoughts of the show fled from his mind as she kissed him. He could feel her fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt. She raked her nails across his chest, gently, little tingles rising from where she touched.
"Isn't this much nicer to think about?" she asked. She was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, and when her hand reached around his rock-hard cock he had to agree with her.
She pushed herself up, and he felt the outline of her lips and her wetness. He gasped as she mounted him, moaned as she moved her hips up and down.
He rose up, staying inside her and then fell into bed with her.
She cried out as he continued fucking, cried out into his mouth as they came together again.
It was a good way to end their weekend.