Author's Note: There is smut at the end of the chapter. Not great smut, but smut.
Chapter XXXVII: Unexpected Song
"Good morning, Shachou," said a polite voice from the doorway.
Lory looked up from over the edge of the newspaper he was reading. "The prodigal son returns," he said wryly.
Kuon kept a polite smile on his face.
Lory's eyes narrowed. "Welcome back," Lory said.
Lory knew that Kuon had arrived back from Kyoto just the day before and had called him into the Takarada mansion for a meeting "as soon as practicable." He didn't want the boy to have a chance to harden his Ren Tsuruga mask.
Setting the meeting at 6:30 in the morning was a blitz tactic, he knew, though a thoroughly defensible one. Both of them had early morning engagements, after all. He wanted to see who would come to the meeting—would it be Kuon? Cain? Ren? Ten had described a mess of a man, but Lory knew the boy had found resolution. He'd grown.
Lory wanted to see his growth first-hand.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"No, thank you," Kuon answered.
Lory smiled. It was Ren Tsuruga who came to the Takarada mansion that morning, dressed in a pressed shirt and a crisp, well tailored suit. Lory didn't need much more than a glance to see that Ren Tsuruga was back, in every sense of the word. And from the looks of things, he'd managed to patch things up with Kyoko.
The boy was holding himself like a Knight of the Round Table returning with the Holy Grail, and Lory was proud of him.
Lory could admit to himself that he'd been wrong—terribly wrong—to barge in on the couple in disguise. He was wrong to have sent Ruto after them with a camera, and wrong to offer Kyoko a contract that he himself would never sign. He couldn't have done much about their breakup and eventual reunion, but he knew that he could have supported them better if he hadn't messed up so badly. Keeping to the sidelines had been difficult, because things had looked truly dark for a while. He'd had to watch the boy grieve and self-destruct before things finally resolved. But how could he be displeased with the outcome? The boy had won the Grand Prize, hadn't he? True love. And if his instincts held true, this Ren Tsuruga would have been more than capable of playing a Katsuki to exceed his father's performance.
He'd have to discuss this evolution with him and with Yashiro. Perhaps refocus the kinds of roles that were forwarded to Kuon for consideration.
"So," the young man said, "was the matter so urgent you needed me here before dawn?"
Hmm. Or perhaps…it wasn't Ren standing before him after all. Lory was pleased to see a certain fire in his eyes that had been missing before—was that Kuon peeking through? "Tsk-tsk. So tetchy. Is Ren Tsuruga complaining about an early wakeup call?"
"Not complaining," Kuon said urbanely. "Merely curious."
"Why, dear boy, I've missed you! I simply didn't want to wait for another opening in that calendar of yours."
Kuon looked at him impassively. He figured that Lory had simply wanted to see how he was doing—which was why he'd made a point of getting there precisely on time. He narrowed his eyes. "That…really is just it, then," he said. "You just wanted to make sure I could do it. After Cain Heel."
Lory nodded. Yes. "Admittedly, it's a fair inquiry."
Kuon sighed. "Or a waste of your time. You know the rest of the Tragic Marker shoot went well." But for all the hassle, Kuon was glad to see him. Lory was far from perfect, but even Kuon at his darkest would admit how much Lory had given him over the years. Some thanks were in order, especially given the obligations that he now knew Lory had undertaken on his behalf. And it was fine, really. He needed to talk to Lory anyway. About his career. About Kyoko, and the inevitable newspaper blitz that would follow after their relationship became public knowledge.
"I trust you've taken care of your personal matters?" Lory asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I have, yes," Kuon said stiffly, "Kyoko sends her regards."
Lory smiled. "She does, does she?" he said. "I shall have to give her a call myself and see how she's doing."
"I'm not sure she's forgiven you," Kuon said drily. "And god help you if she finds out you had me dragged here on a whim—"
"I suppose forgiveness might be too much to ask." Lory frowned. "But I will make sure you eat breakfast."
Kuon smiled at that. "'Breakfast helps you win the day,'" he said.
"That sounds very much like her."
"I'm sure it does," Kuon said.
Lory sighed. He hadn't given up on Kyoko yet. He could see that Kuon was coming along nicely, but he knew Kyoko would be wasted taking accounting classes. He knew she belonged in the studio, in front of a camera. Or perhaps onstage, facing a rapt audience.
"She hasn't signed that contract yet, then?"
Kuon shook his head. "You have a better chance of earning her forgiveness than getting her to sign that contract," he said. "I don't think she's even considered it. She's determined to go to university. Scheduled to take the Kyoto and Tokyo exams."
"Ambitious girl."
"Smart girl," Kuon said.
"No doubt you're hoping she'll decide on Tokyo. Provided she gets into both universities, of course."
"Of course."
"What will you do if she doesn't?" Lory asked.
He shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to go see her in Kyoto, then."
"Will you have time?"
"Ah." Kuon leaned back into the chair, crossing his legs and entwining his hands over his knees. "This is one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."
"Interesting." He motioned Ruto over for a light, trimming a cigar while looking surreptitiously at Kuon. "I thought that I called the meeting."
"It saves us both the trouble of discussing this later," Kuon said. "And we need to talk, one way or the other. About time."
"Time?"
Kuon nodded. "Not having enough of it. And all these low-value commitments. Appearances. Talk shows."
"All part and parcel of your work, Ren," Lory said. "You have a certain image to maintain."
"No. There is such a thing as overexposure, Lory," he said. "Perhaps I disappeared over the summer, but how many commercials and editorials have I shot, just this year alone?"
"Mmm," Lory said.
"I shot two dramas this year," he said. "Forest of Spiral and Dark Moon." He counted on his fingers. "So that's two. There was the runway at Paris Fashion Week, then the big Vogue shoot you were excited about, and then they had me shooting that Eau d'Armandy pour Homme ad in New Zealand. All of that happened before I left for Kyoto." He shrugged. "After that, there was Ring Doh's sequel and Tragic Marker. I can't even begin to count how many talk shows I was on—or the commercials."
"Most actors would kill to be booked like that, Ren." There was a hint of reproach in Lory's voice.
"I'm sure they'd kill for it," Kuon said. "But are they willing to die to keep up with it?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not."
"So dramatic today." Lory took a puff off of his cigar.
Kuon looked at him with mild irritation. "Are you serious right now? I'm the dramatic one?" He motioned to Lory's outfit; the lavish decorations in his home. "I'm not the one dressed like an Arabian sheik, Lory." He huffed. "At least your feathered dancing girls aren't watching you eat breakfast."
"It just so happens that my dance squad isn't awake yet," he said wryly. "But I take your point." Lory looked at him seriously. He knew Kuon was right—he'd reached the stage in his career when everyone wanted him. He'd been asked to endorse everything from whisky to feminine hygiene products, and Yashiro was knee-deep in scripts for every new drama greenlighted by any of the networks. Before sending him to Kyoto, his calendar had been booked solid—double-booked, even, with the bad reviews of Dark Moon's Katsuki Tachibana notwithstanding. But he'd wanted the young actor to realize it for himself.
"Well?" Lory asked. "You came to say something. What is it?"
"I'm fulfilling the engagements Yashiro had to postpone over the summer," he said. "But after that—Lory, we need to discuss quality over quantity."
Lory nodded. How convenient, he thought, for Kuon to have come to the same conclusion he had. "I thoroughly agree. I was thinking the same thing after watching you in Kyoto."
Kuon had too much self-control to let his jaw drop. But he was surprised. When he'd first started, Lory had insisted he take every job that came his way; when he got more popular, he'd needed to decide between big projects. But he'd still accepted all the smaller shoots that Yashiro could shoe-horn into his calendar. He'd thought it was the best way to build up a portfolio once he made a bid for roles in the US. And besides, he thought, LME received a fee for every job he booked, so it was a win for both himself and the agency. He knew that wasn't why Lory had wanted him 'out there,' but he thought the man would fight harder to keep him busier.
"You needn't look so surprised," Lory said. "Not that you would look surprised to anyone else. And you do have a remarkable poker face, Ren, but I can tell."
"I just thought you'd say I needed to stay as busy as possible."
"The point of booking you on every commercial and photo shoot was to make sure the public knew who you were. To make sure every producer, showrunner, and director knew where to find you. And now they do. But yes. You need the next step in your career."
"I'd like to make strategic choices on my workload," Kuon told him. "Better projects. Quality, not quantity. No more coffee-and-tea commercials. No more random Yappa Kimagure Rock appearances, at least not when I'm not actively promoting something. And I'm doing Midnight Strikes because Kyoko wanted me to—but you have to admit that the biggest reason you and Yashiro put that one into my pile for consideration is because they needed a hot guy and you want the public to see me as hot again."
"Fair," Lory said. "But you have to pull your end, too. Katsuki Tachibana was a great role. Made your father's career. And the fact that you shat the bed with a prime part like that doesn't speak terribly well for you."
"You were right about Katsuki," Kuon said. "I know you were. I guess I had to figure it out for myself. But now that we're here…well, something has to change."
Lory considered Kuon carefully, silently considering the actor poised on his chair with a debonair air. Kuon didn't flinch.
"I daresay I agree," he said carefully. "And yes, something has to change. I look forward to the roles you'll take in the future."
"Thank you," said Kuon.
"I'll talk to Yashiro."
"I'll…explain, too."
"Nothing else to ask me?" Lory was looking at him curiously again.
"Of course," Kuon said, steeling himself. "We need to discuss how to manage the public reveal of this relationship."
Kuon hadn't known what to expect, though a delighted squeal might have been less disconcerting than the wide, slow smile that appeared on Lory's face.
"Ah," Lory responded. "So you've both decided to reveal your relationship to the public?" he asked.
"It will have to come out sooner rather than later," Kuon said. "I'm not going to lie about her. And I'd rather control the message than not. We do want to wait until she's graduated and admitted to a university."
"So a few months. Half a year at most. Have you considered the harassment she might face from your fans?"
"You were so kind as to set us up with that very real simulation with stalking paparazzi, Lory."
"And I'm sorry for it."
"It was a lesson we can't unlearn. So yes, we've considered it."
"And the rumors that'll inevitably make their way to the gossip magazines once the promos for Ring Doh 2 hit? You know they'll accuse her of sleeping with you to get the role."
"All the better to get our story straight," Kuon said. "Besides, her acting will speak for itself."
Lory sighed. "There's still the matter of her age," Lory said. "Seventeen is awfully young."
"She'll be eighteen in a few weeks," Kuon said.
"Still very young." He motioned to Ruto, sighing. "But at least it's legal. In Tokyo, anyway. I'd like to discuss this with the PR team. Set up a meeting with the usual suspects, make sure they sign an NDA specific to this 'project.'"
Ruto made a few notes on his pad and bowed to Lory. "Of course, sir," he said. "I'll have that on your calendar shortly."
Kuon watched the man retreat into the shadows. He got up. "Well, then, Shachou," he said. "If that's all you wanted, I'll be getting on with my day."
"Of course, of course," Lory said. "What was it Yashiro said? A commercial for UCC Coffee?"
"That one's next week," he answered. "Today it's Ito-En. UCC soon."
"Ganbare," Lory said.
"Thank you." Kuon straightened his tie and strode towards the door.
"Kuon?" Lory called after him.
Kuon turned around in surprise. Lory had been calling him Ren all morning.
"Does Kyoko know that the princess hasn't been cast in that drama yet?"
"Yes," Kuon said. They'd spoken about Midnight during her convalescence. "She does."
"Does she know when the audition is?"
"It's the same day as her Tokyo exam," Kuon said, suddenly melancholy.
"Just make sure she knows," Lory smiled. "I have hope. I'm still betting on her."
Kuon shook his head. "She knows, Lory," he said. "And I know better to pressure her into anything even remotely like that."
He turned away again. It wouldn't do for Lory to see those hopes mirrored in his own eyes.
=.=.=
"Anyway, here's dinner for tonight," he told the camera. "It's a bento from a well-known place out here. Broiled salmon, rice, hijiki—"
"TSURUGA! The man himself." Kijima sat down next to him on the long couch and looked at him curiously, furrowing his brow. "What are you doing?" Kuon ended the recording and put his phone screen-down onto the table, trying to move as calmly as possible. "No, seriously. Did you turn into a food blogger or something?"
He smiled politely at his co-actor. He didn't mind Kijima Hidehito—even considered him almost a friend. The actor was an easy-going, friendly, casual sort of guy, the kind of guy who got along with everyone, always asking you to go out for a drink.
And potentially getting you into trouble. It had been Kijima-kun who'd talked him into going out the night of that infamous kiss with Kana.
"It's nothing, really," he said. Kijima was also a notorious gossip—the last thing he wanted was to tell the guy he was taking videos of his dinner for his girlfriend.
Kijima grinned. "Yeaaaah, ok, dude," he said, popping off his bento's plastic cover. "Ren Tsuruga, man of mystery. Keeping his secrets."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kuon said. No one else had questioned him on his whereabouts—why was Kijima entitled to an explanation?
"Japan's Number One goes missing for an entire summer, shoots Shingai's reboot, then disappears again. Sound familiar?" Kijima took a bite of his salmon and winced. "Ugh. The fish is dry," he said. "Beggars can't be choosers, but wow, don't you wish the catering was a little better?"
"Mmm," Kuon responded. He took a nibble of his own fish. Kijima was right—though he probably would never even have noticed before he'd met Kyoko. "Yeah," he told the actor. "It's a little dry."
They chewed companionably for a few minutes before Kijima spoke again. "So what gives?" he asked. "We gonna hear about some top-secret project soon? You making that crossover into the States?" He leaned over conspiratorially. "No one's gonna ask you to your face, dude, but everyone thinks you were out working on some top-secret American project."
"Top secret American project?" Kuon said blankly. It was ironic, really. A high-profile top secret American project had been his goal for years. He knew those projects were out there, but he hadn't pressed Lory on the matter, thinking he wasn't ready. "Nah," he said. "Nothing like that. Kept busy with Shingai, though."
Kijima looked doubtful, but he dropped the subject. Tsuruga was probably subject to some NDA-or-other; he knew how those hush-hush projects went. "OK, dude," he said. "Hey, you wanna go—"
Riiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnng.
Kuon grabbed at his phone—there was only one person who could be calling right now, and he didn't want Kijima knowing anything about her. The man was a nice guy, but the last thing he wanted was Kijima starting rumors about Ren Tsuruga's girlfriend.
"Sorry, gotta take this," he mumbled. Kijima was watching, mouth agape, a piece of salmon in his chopsticks.
Kuon thumbed open the lock and answered before the second ring.
"Hey." He tried to sound natural. Pretend you're talking to Yashiro, he told himself.
"Hey," she said. "I missed your call earlier—Yayoi-san was having me look over some paperwork."
"I figured," he said. "It's ok." He rose off of the couch to find a quiet spot elsewhere in the studio. It was crowded—he would have to step out into the hallway.
He could feel Kijima's eyes on him and motioned to him: one moment. The man nodded and resumed eating, looking at him curiously as he walked off.
"I was just having dinner," he told her. "With a coworker."
"Oh!" she said. "I should go, then—I'm sorry I caught you at a bad time."
He found an empty corridor and stepped into it, modulating his voice low. "No. It's never a bad time when it's you, Kyoko. Don't worry about it." Something in her voice sounded strained. She wasn't a terribly jealous person, but he wanted to assure her anyway. "Kijima Hidehito. He was in Dark Moon with me, and we're shooting a commercial."
"The coffee guy?"
"The coffee guy, yeah," he laughed. "We're doing more coffee commercials. Anyway, the studio brought in caterers. Broiled salmon."
She laughed softly. It caught him off-guard, and none of his acting experience prevented him from smiling. "What?" he asked.
"I was waiting for you to send your video," she said.
"I was interrupted," he said. "I was just about to—"
"You know you don't need to. I trust you to eat—you are an adult, Kuon."
"I want to. If you want them. I'll stop if they annoy you."
"I love them," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. "I watch them, sometimes, when I miss you—"
He laughed, softly. "So you miss me?"
"You're terrible. You know I miss you."
"And you watch these videos of me when you miss me?"
"I—I—well—"
He grinned. She'd walked right into this one.
"I wish I had something to watch when I miss you," he said lewdly.
"Kuon!" He could almost see the blush on her cheeks.
"What? It's perfectly normal to want to see your girlfriend—"
"You're a pervert, Kuon Hizuri."
"Pervert? Exactly what kind of videos are you talking about, Kyoko? Who's the real pervert here?"
She let out a sound that was half a cough and half an outraged squawk.
Just a little more, and then he was going to stop teasing her. "And anyway, you didn't say no."
"Urghhh!"
"That's still not a no."
Silence on the line.
He heard her draw in her breath, but she wasn't saying anything.
"Kyoko?"
"I'm here," she replied quickly. Too quickly.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Maybe later," she whispered.
His eyes widened. He'd been kidding; he thought she'd known he was kidding. This had been a casual conversation, the kind they had multiple times a day. Two words from her and all of that had gone out the window. He felt as if he'd been struck by a bolt from the blue. The timbre of her voice—the idea of it—never in a million years could he have imagined her agreeing to…to that.
"I bought some…things," she said. "Maybe…maybe I should show you…to see if you like them…"
"Things?" He was going to faint from the blood rushing out of his head and into his cock.
"To—to wear," she said shyly. "When I visit."
His mouth was dry. "What kind of things, Kyoko?" he asked.
He heard a small squeak come out of the speaker, and he knew. He could picture her now, blushing and stuttering, probably fidgeting with a pencil on her desk. He and Kyoko had come a long way since their first kiss, but she was still beset by sudden bouts of shyness. Talking about 'it' was still difficult for her. Especially on the phone. It was why drawing the filth out of her was so fun.
"Kyoko," he growled. "What kind of things?" She called it his 'Emperor voice,' though why she called it that he had no clue.
"It—it might be easier if—maybe when I get there—"
"No." He heard the sharp intake of breath when he said it, and took note. "You can use your words, Kyoko. Tell me. Now."
"It's a m-m-matching…" She took a deep breath. "Matchinglingeriebraandpantyset."
Fuck. The images in his head were absolutely not appropriate for this place. "There now," he said gruffly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"You're the worst," she responded. He could hear her blushing.
"You started it," he shot back. He paused for a minute, trying to calm himself and the…situation…he had in his pants.
"I did not," she said. "We were only talking about food!"
The indignant tone in her voice made him chuckle. "I'm going to hold you to this," he told her. "Later. You're going to finish what you started. When I'm not in a crowd. You teasing minx."
"I didn't mean to—"
He did believe she hadn't meant to, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her about it anyway. "You sure?" he asked. "You just told your boyfriend you bought lingerie. There is no way that's not a tease, love."
"But—but—"
He laughed outright and then sighed. "I love you. You know this, right?"
"I love you too," she answered.
"I should probably get back to Kijima," he said. "I'll call you back when I get home. It might be late."
"OK."
He ended their call. He wanted more—he always wanted more. But if he spent too long on the phone, people would get suspicious. He'd probably have questions from Kijima, as it was.
=.=.=
He wasn't wrong.
He walked back to the couch, using every bit of his acting talent to look casual. He ignored Kijima's curious look, sat down, grabbed his chopsticks, and had just put a piece of fish in his mouth when—
"You have a girlfriend." Kijima lounged back into his chair, looking at him with a smirk.
Kuon choked and then coughed and reached for his water.
"Bingo."
He wanted to deny it, but he was too busy wheezing.
"So that's the big secret, huh." The smirk on Kijima's face widened to an all-out grin. "Congratulations, dude," he said, sitting up and holding out a bottle of tea for a toast. "Who's the lucky lady?"
It was the worst case scenario. He could see people looking over at them, and Kijima wasn't helping things by…giving a toast. Or whatever he was doing.
He shook his head. "Nothing like that, dude." It killed him to lie about it, but he didn't see another option.
"So it's like that huh." Kijima lowered the offending bottle and slouched into his chair again. "Gotta be someone famous, then. Haruka Fukada? Yui Aragaki? Sakaki Hashimoto? Wait—don't tell me—Kana!? I mean, I thought she was—you know—but—-I guess—"
"Kijima-kun, you know as well as I do that nothing ever happened between Kana and me—"
"Mmhmm, yeah, you know, I figured Kana might've been too much woman for you—"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Kuon sputtered.
Kijima ignored him. "OK so it's not a mature woman like Kana," he said, chin on his hand. "An idol, maybe? Maybe a newcomer? Ah—" He snapped his fingers. "—Got it. Morizumi Kimiko-chan!"
Kuon groaned.
"What, it's her, right?" Kijima grinned and slapped his knee. "Rumor has it she was in Kyoto filming with Shingai—the film that you were in—"
"Kijima. Stop," Kuon said.
The man was an out-of-control freight train, making leaps from one idea to the other. "And you know, she's had the hots for you since…what was it? That first one we were in together—wasn't there press about you two going out on a date?"
"Fake. That stuff is fake. She made all of that up—" Kuon hated being on the back foot like this. Kijima couldn't have known how much grief Kimiko had cost him, but he knew he wasn't behaving like an innocent man.
"Man, I know I said Kana seemed too old for you, but wow, you like them young, huh? How old is Kimiko-chan? She's a teenager, right? Right?"
Kuon happened to know that Kimiko and Kyoko were the same age, but confirming that knowledge would've been the nail in his coffin. He grit his teeth and turned on Cain Heel. "Kijima-kun."
The man's head whipped up. The Ren Tsuruga he knew was soft-spoken, polite, calm. Occasionally, the man was ice-cold and brutally sarcastic, but only if a fellow actor showed up to set unprepared. But when he looked over at this Ren Tsuruga, he gulped. The man was radiating a murderous intensity that had him backing off.
"There is not now, nor has there ever been, nor will there ever be any kind of involvement with Morizumi Kimiko," Kuon told the man. "And that is all that should be relevant to you." He knew that this was tantamount to a confession—the man would likely take this as confirmation of what kind of person had called him, if not who.
"Hey—hey, it's all good, dude." Kijima backed down, holding up his hands in conciliation. "Your business is your business. Just wanted to congratulate you on finally getting laid—"
Kuon was going to strangle him. He was. He was going to strangle him.
"—cuz you always seemed so uptight."
Don't kill him, Kuon. Do *not* kill him, Kuon was telling himself. He was glaring at the man.
"Wait, you are getting laid, aren't you?" Kijima asked.
The man had no sense of self-preservation. "Kijima," he growled.
"OK, ok, fine, I'll stop," he said, taking a drink. "Lighten up, dude."
Kuon gave him a frosty Tsuruga Ren smile and finished his dinner.
=.=.=
It was late when they finished the shoot.
It hadn't been anyone's fault; it was merely…a conglomeration of events leading up to a prolonged session. There had been technical issues with a camera, and then technical issues with lighting. Add one too many slip ups here and there from his co-stars and by the time they were done, it was nearly eleven at night.
He fell onto his couch, exhausted.
He picked up the phone, training his camera on his face when she answered.
"Hi," he said. "It took a while, but I'm home. Am I interrupting your studying?"
She smiled. "Otsukaresama desu," she said. She was sitting at her desk. He could see her room behind her, neat as always. "And no. You're not interrupting—I do need to take breaks, you know."
"So I am interrupting."
She shook her head. "I…look forward to your calls, Kuon," she said. "If you hadn't, I would've worried…and…" She paused. "...I miss you."
"I miss you too. I've been looking forward to seeing you all day," he said. "Especially today." He huffed and then stretched his arms upwards on the couch, relieving the tension in his shoulders. "It's like I can't relax until after I've talked to you."
"Everything finished up, though? Will Yayoi and I see you during our next commercial break?"
He grinned at her, exhaustion forgotten. "When challenges abound," he quipped, "Some…will rise above the rest…"
She made an adorable squeak and he couldn't help but continue, deepening his voice into a caricature of a voice-over.
"What are you made of?"
"More, more!" She was giggling.
"Achieve your fullest potential!"
She grinned back at him and then held up her hand. He laughed when he saw it: a can of the same coffee they'd been shooting the ad for.
She took a swig of it and then turned back to her camera. "UCC Black," she said.
He said the tagline along with her. "Fuel your everyday!"
"And you're sure you don't want to be here shooting that commercial with me?" he asked.
She stuck out her tongue. "The Kyoto exam is in a week," she said. "So I'll be drinking the coffee, sir, not acting with it."
"Kijima actually does that line," he said. "I do some of the dialogue for the office workers."
Kyoko looked pensive. "I would've thought they'd ask you to do the campaign tagline," she said. "Because your voice is so—"
She stopped abruptly and blushed.
"What?" he asked. "My voice is so what, Kyoko?"
She hid her face in her hands.
"Kyokoooooo…"
"Nooo!" She threw up her hands. "It's too embarrassing."
"Please?" He trained the puppy-dog eyes on her and she whimpered. "Come on, now you have to tell me—"
"Your voice is sexy," she said flatly, scrunching her eyes shut. She was blushing despite herself.
He grinned. Having her say it meant more to him than any accolade the showbiz world could confer upon him. Mere months ago she never would've admitted it, much less said it out loud. "You think my voice is sexy."
She crossed her arms. "And I've told you that before. Now you're just fishing for compliments."
"I think your voice is sexy, too," he said. He gave her an innocent smile, accompanied by wide, innocent eyes.
She gave him a mock glare, but she was blushing and she was adorable, so he kept going, his smile growing more suggestive by the second. "And so is your body…those beautiful breasts of yours…that pert little ass…"
"Kuon…stop."
"Why?" he asked. "It's all true."
"It's still…embarrassing."
"No one's here except me," he said. "No one to be embarrassed for. I'll tell you every day if you let me. Or even if you don't—"
"But…"
"—The same way I'll tell you you're beautiful every day, Kyoko. Again and again. For the rest of my life." He'd stopped teasing her. She heard it in his voice. She was working hard at accepting his compliments, but a lifetime of denigration and self-effacement was hard to overcome.
She opened her mouth to speak.
"Don't you dare deny it."
"I…wasn't," she said. "But when you say it like that… it's…it's just so…so…lewd."
"There's nothing wrong with being lewd," he replied. "I love it when you're lewd. I love it when you show me how much you want me—"
"Kuon!"
"Because you do want me," he teased. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "You and I both know that if I were there you'd be naked by now."
She hid her face in her hands.
"Am I wrong?" he asked seriously. "Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it."
She spoke so softly he barely heard her. "No, you're not wrong," she said hesitantly. "I think…it's more difficult like this. Maybe it's because you're so far away…or maybe it's the way my voice sounds when I'm in this room all by myself." She looked pensively into the distance. "When you're with me, everything just…happens. Like the world is compelled to make it happen. But when we're on the phone…when I say things out loud…" She shook her head as if to clear it. "It's like admitting I'm a pervert, Kuon!"
He would have laughed outright, except the sight of her appalled-embarrassed-blushing face made his heart swell. Being with Kyoko meant confronting the Paradox of Kyoko: he was never quite sure whether he wanted to wrap her up in warm blankets for adoration or to tear off all her clothing.
"Are you?" He arched his brow at her, smirking.
"Am I what?"
"A pervert."
He expected her to squeal and berate him, but suddenly she was serious again. "I think you've made me one."
He was silent for a second, thinking. When they were in the same room, their bodies came together like magnets with opposing poles—she was right about that. He realized, too, that they'd never really talked about sex. Never discussed consent or boundaries, safewords or preferences. When they were together, instinct overrode reason, every time. Except for that one time when he'd confessed to her, they'd never talked about their fantasies. But this distance forced them to rely on talking to each other. It forced them to rely on fantasies about each other. And now his little Kyoko looked as if she was on the verge of a confession herself
"Have I?" he asked softly. "Have I really?" He chuckled. "I don't regret it. Not in the least. But all this just reminds me of the things we haven't talked about."
"The things?" she asked blankly. "There's things we haven't talked about?" They spent hours talking—she thought they'd covered everything.
"I guess maybe because I get—we get—carried away," he mused. "I've never asked you about your boundaries, for one."
"Boundaries?" She looked at him blankly.
"Things you don't want me to do to you," he said. "Lines you don't want me to cross."
"You've never done anything to me that I haven't liked, Kuon." She bit her lip, thinking. "I don't want to call you 'Daddy,'" she said definitively.
He laughed outright at that. "Please don't ever call me 'Daddy,'" he said. "Maybe that's a hard no for me, too, especially since Guam—"
"Yes," she said fiercely.
"What else do you not like?" he asked. "Feet?"
She grimaced. "Feet?"
"Some people like to play with feet. Some people want to be urinated on. Some people like to dress up as puppies, and some people like to attach themselves to machines for electric shocks. Lots of people like lots of different things, but it's my job to figure out what you do like and avoid the things you don't."
"None of those, please," she said primly. Her eyes widened. "Do you want to do those things?"
He couldn't help but laugh again at her growing alarm. "No…no, none of those things really do it for me," he said. "We can agree on that."
She looked relieved.
"So what are the things you do like, Kyoko?" He'd meant to sound casual, but a lascivious edge crept into his voice.
"I…you…" She took a deep breath in before hiding her face in her hands. "You know what I want," she said. "Sometimes it's like you can read my mind—"
"Mmm," he said. "And I'm happy that I please you. But maybe we needed to be far apart so we could talk about it. Because I can't keep my hands off of you when you're near me. So I want you to tell me—are there more things I can do? Fantasies you want to come true?"
She froze.
"Hmm?" he prompted.
"Noooo!" she wailed. "I can't, Kuon, it's too embarrassing—how could I say those things out loud!?"
He grinned and then gave her the puppy dog eyes. The fact that she didn't want to say things out loud meant that there were things to say out loud. "You can," he said. "Because how am I going to make those things happen if you don't tell me?"
"I—"
She froze again. He waited patiently. "Just one thing," he said. "Just tell me one thing."
"I like it when you kiss me," she muttered.
He beamed at her. "I love it when you kiss me, love." It was a timid answer, but an answer nonetheless. He raised a brow at her. "Anything…else?"
It was a long time before she answered. "I—that night," she said. "When we—the first time we—after—"
She stopped talking.
"I remember," he told her. He knew exactly which night she was talking about. He'd spent…an awful lot of time thinking of that night.
She groaned. "What if I don't want to tell you?" she asked.
"Then you would say 'No, Kuon, really, I don't want to tell you' and I'd be sad because it would be harder for me to make whatever you wanted come true." He stopped himself from going further down that line of conversation—he was already being manipulative, and he didn't want to press her.
She whimpered and shut her eyes, looking as if she was preparing to jump off a cliff.
"OK," he said softly. "I'm sorry—I'll stop. I shouldn't be pressuring you like this."
But she surprised him again, looking directly into the camera. He looked back at her, their eyes meeting across the wire. "That night," she started. "When you told me…about what you wanted to do to me. How you wanted to treat me. And I told you…that I wanted to live out those fantasies."
"Ah."
"That."
One word and the floodgates opened in his mind. The images of what he'd imagined doing to her—what he had done to her—were playing in his head like a movie. That night had been so fraught with so much emotion that he wasn't sure whether she truly wanted what he'd described or if she had only meant to heal their breach.
He'd wanted to have a calm, collected conversation—an academic one, even—about whatever kinks she might have.
Yeah…that wasn't going to happen.
She was still blushing, but he could see it: the way her pupils dilated, the way she bit at her bottom lip. He could almost feel her heart racing as she breathed in and then out. He was sure she could see it in him, too. Her timidity brought out his aggression; he knew he wanted to dominate her. And she seemed more than willing.
He felt desire pooling in his gut as all the blood rushed down to his cock.
"I want that too," he said hoarsely.
=.=.=
Her body was tense; she could see herself on the screen. She was all angles and awkwardness, too aware of being self-aware. She wished, just for a moment, for that knack of always-looking-beautiful Kuon had.
I think of you, she wanted to tell him. I think of you all the time. I *want* you all the time—around me, inside me, *with* me. The words stalled, flightless on her tongue.
A lifetime of being a good girl made it difficult to be a whore; she had yet to unlearn the modesty and restraint ingrained into her. But there was nothing of the good girl left when her mind wandered late at night. The day he'd told her about his fantasies was the day those fantasies had become her own, and now they infected her thoughts relentlessly.
The things he'd said to her while she writhed underneath him—she wanted him to do those things. She wanted to see that feral look on his face, wanted to him to lose control. It was why she'd thought to purchase the lewd underwear she was wearing underneath her sweater—the 'stuff' she'd hinted at but didn't have the courage to show.
His eyes were dark and dilated on her screen, and that look—that hungry, desperate look—was on his face. She clenched her legs together, imagining him next to her. He was right—she'd be naked by now if he'd been in the same room. Naked, and probably moaning his name as he trapped her beneath him. The thought was making her lightheaded.
"I…still love it when you're careful with me, Kuon. When you just hold me and kiss me—and I feel like a princess."
His eyes softened. "I'll always do those things," he said. "I want to explore these things with you, but I don't want you to ever forget how much I love you."
"But."
"But?"
"You know," she said.
"Mmm," he replied. "I don't, you know. I really can't read your mind."
Of course he couldn't read her mind, she thought. But he seemed to have an instinctive knowledge—he always knew how to touch her, how to make her keen and moan and beg. And even if she could tell him what she wanted, she didn't know…exactly what to call things. Inchoate images made for poor conversation. It would have been easier to show him.
"I like it…when you…hold me down," she said. "When you take me."
He looked surprised, but the surprise gave way to a hungry look. "You want me to take you," he repeated.
His voice sent a thrill throughout her body, giving her goosebumps even though she sat alone in her room.
"You like it when I'm rough with you?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"When I can't help but pound that tight little pussy of yours?" he growled.
"Ye-e-es," she whimpered. "I—I love it when you do that…and then you tell me—when you say those things—when you…call me—"
"You like it when I talk dirty to you," he said.
She nodded mutely.
"I like it when you talk dirty to me, too." He grinned, but she must have looked like a deer in headlights because he took pity on her. "My poor Kyoko," he said. "Having such a naughty boyfriend."
"Kuon."
"I'll ask you questions," he said. "Yes or no answers for now."
Her mouth was dry. She gulped and took a breath. "OK."
"Easy ones first," he said. It was like starting a lie detector test—he knew what she liked; he'd start with that. "Do you like it when I lick your cunt?"
"Yes," she whispered. Her eyes were downcast now. She should have been mortified but instead…she wanted him to continue.
"Do you like sucking my cock?"
She nodded.
"Do you like it when I pull your hair?"
"Mm."
He paused to let her catch her breath. She was breathing in and out, flushed.
He gave her a knowing smile. "You're dripping wet right now, aren't you?" It wasn't a question, not really. "Because that beautiful pussy of yours is so empty without my cock."
He was setting her on fire—and if she was honest, she knew he was on fire too. It felt dangerous, and also desperate. Without him here, she was sure she'd go out of her mind.
"Why did you tell me about the lingerie, Kyoko?" he asked curiously.
She looked at him helplessly, but he stayed quiet. "I just…thought…maybe it would be nice if you knew what I did today," she finished lamely.
He gave her a sinister laugh as the look on his face darkened with lust. "Such an angel's face," he murmured. "You'd never guess a girl like you would ever want to be treated like a dirty whore," he said hoarsely. "Because you've told me, haven't you? You're my fucking slut."
She gasped. "Yes?" he asked. "Or no?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"You wanted me to think about your body," he said. "Because you want to torture me. You want me to think about filling you with my cum, day and night. Am I wrong?"
She moaned, trying to curl in on herself. "Answer, Kyoko."
"You're not wrong."
He grinned. "You're wearing it right now, aren't you…right under your clothes. Because you knew you were going to show me. You've probably been thinking about it all day."
Her body was melting.
"Show me," he said softly.
=.=.=
He would have given the world to teleport by her side.
She was trembling—barely noticeable from her screen, but he knew. He knew her little tells by now, the way she bit at her lip, the way her eyes widened as her skin flushed.
She froze and then she looked at him helplessly. "I…I can't Kuon!" she said.
"Hmmph," he said. His voice was a low rumble. "Should I make you show me, Kyoko?" he asked. "You like it when I take control, don't you?"
She bowed her head down low.
He knew exactly what he needed to do.
"You owe me three wishes," the Emperor said. "I'm using the first. For the next hour, you'll do as I say. Show me."
Her blushing face looked at him and he was afraid he'd pushed her too far, but she didn't protest.
She stood up from her desk and for a second all he saw was her torso, framed by the borders of his phone's screen. And then she adjusted her own camera's placement so he could see her entire body.
"Don't laugh," she said. "I'm not a model—"
"Kyoko."
She stopped, mid-word, understanding. He hated hearing her denigrate herself. She turned away from the camera before hesitantly drawing off her sweater and then the shirt underneath it. She paused for a moment before pushing down the grey sweatpants she wore.
He sucked in a breath as her body revealed itself.
All he saw, at first, was the band of her bra at her back, followed by the globes of her ass, all of it framed in black. She was dimly lit, beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp on her desk. She straightened her shoulders but kept her hands over her breasts. He took this bashfulness as a challenge—by now, he knew this was a veneer to be stripped away.
She turned around.
"Drop your hands, love," he told her.
Trembling, she took her hands from her breasts, hesitantly dropping them to her sides.
He took in the sight of her flesh hungrily. The lingerie set was lovely. He saw immediately why it appealed to her. Delicately fashioned flowers were embroidered onto the black mesh; all of it molded to the curve of her breasts. The fabric was sheer enough to hint at the creaminess of her skin underneath; he could see the outlines of her areolae. He took a breath when he saw her diamond-hard nipples, straining against the fabric. Underneath, she was wearing a string-bikini, also embroidered with flowers.
She looked like a wood-nymph. All she needed was a set of wings.
"Do you like it?" she asked shyly.
"Do you want me to like it?" he asked gently.
He understood her nervousness. Streaming on her camera meant performing for an audience—even if it was an audience of just one. Worse, it was like performing in front of a mirror. But he knew two things: that she wanted this, and that this was new to her. She was not accustomed to having her body displayed and worshiped. But they were far apart—this was the closest he could come to touching her.
She nodded.
"Yes," he breathed, taking pity on her. "I love it. You're lovely. So lovely."
She reached for the camera and tried to put it onto the bookshelf above her desk, but that wasn't where he wanted it.
"No," he told her. "Get on the bed. Set it up so I can see you leaning against the headboard."
She obeyed, taking a throw pillow and leaning the phone against it. Awkwardly she sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, arms behind her. She was nervous, but she was trying to look casual—almost as if this was something they did all the time.
"Relax," he said. "Come up and lean back on your pillows. Pretend I'm right there with you. It's just me, love."
She piled the pillows behind her and tucked her legs to the side.
"What are you thinking of right now, Kyoko?" he asked.
He was looking at her intently, his handsome face lit by his floor lamp, looking as if he knew what she was thinking.
"Kyoko," he said, and she trembled. "You promised."
His voice brought on a wave of desire.
"I…I'm thinking of you," she managed. The words left her breathless, her heart racing.
He was inscrutable. She felt the silence between them, heavy with tension.
"Are you?" he asked sardonically. "Perhaps thinking of the time you made me sort the trash with you?"
"No—no," she said, shaking her head vehemently.
"Tell me, then," he said gently. "Close your eyes if you need to."
"I'm imagining you here," she said. "The way you…smell. The way you feel—"
Having her eyes closed made it easier to imagine him next to her. It made it easier to talk. She clutched onto the sheets as her entire body tightened for him, wishing he would come back and end the torture of being away from each other. "Good," he said. "Keep going."
"Your hands," she said. "The way you touch me—when you—when you—play with my…nipples—"
"Touch them for me, then," he said. "I know you can. I know you do when I'm not there."
Her eyes flew open and her lips parted in protest, but they both knew he was right.
He hardened his voice. "Do it, Kyoko," he said. "Tease them for me."
Her graceful hand reached up to cup her breast as she sighed, throwing her head back.
"Good girl," he told her. He reached down to adjust himself as his cock strained against his pants. "Kyoko, love, are you wet?"
Her legs were still tucked under her—a maidenly attempt at hiding herself from him. "Yesssss," she moaned.
"Straighten up your body and open your legs for me, love."
"But Kuon—"
"Look at me," he said.
She looked at him helplessly as he leaned back into his couch; she could see the obscene bulge in his pants as his body came into view.
"This is what you do to me," he said. "So show me your body."
"Show me yours," she said.
He grinned at the spark in her and then began to unbutton his shirt. She watched him through hooded eyes as the muscles of his torso came into view. He shrugged it off and then undid his belt and his pants, shrugging everything off as his cock strained towards her. He couldn't stop himself from taking his hard cock into his hands, stroking slowly as he watched her.
"Happy?" he asked.
She didn't answer, though she devoured his form with her eyes. She moved for him as if in a daze, hesitating. She folded her legs up until her heels touched her thighs and then slowly, she parted her knees. The cold air on her bare body only underscored how wet she was for him. She recalled how he'd make her do this in the past, showing him the evidence of her desire as slick dripped from her. She hadn't understood why he'd wanted her to do it, but now, watching him, she understood. And then she remembered how he would descend down her body to take her into his mouth, how she would buck and moan against him as he drove her to lose control.
She sighed against her pillow. "Kuon—I—mm—when you put your mouth there—"
"Yeah," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Untie those panties and take them off."
She whimpered but she complied, untying the black ribbons holding the lace together, and when she was done she peeled off the flimsy cloth.
"The bra," he choked out.
"Yes," she said. The black mesh fell away from her breasts. She held her breath as she showed him her body, feeling lewd and reckless but oh-so-needy—
It was a perfect view for his hungry eyes. She was sitting upright, but leaning back enough so that her pelvis tilted towards him. The nipples she'd been teasing were rock hard against her breasts; her skin was smooth and firm. She was spread apart obscenely, the pink of her nether lips peeking through. He could see how desperately wet she was for him. "Fuck. I love tasting that cunt," he said. "I love how you buck against me even when I try and hold you down—I love how you scream—I love how you grab my hair when you can't take it anymore—fuck—Kyoko…Touch yourself," he said. "Show me how much you want me—how much you miss me—tell me—"
"Please, Kuon!"
Her hand descended toward her core and he was once again reminded of how she'd fucked herself on his cock on that night. He remembered how she'd moaned in ecstasy as he thrust upwards, her fingers moving frantically on her clit. He groaned.
It wouldn't take him long, he knew. She'd teased him into a frenzy—and now, with her spread like this in front of him, he knew it would only be a matter of time.
Kyoko watched him stroke himself, eyes fixed on her. His beautiful body was on display for her, too, but she needed to close her eyes. Since he'd gone back to Tokyo, she'd touched herself like this often, sick with longing for him. She threw back her head as her fingers found the center of her pleasure, she circled it, bringing herself to the brink. Having him watch her made everything more acute—it was as if his presence made her more sensitive to touch.
Having him undone like this made it easier to speak. She lost herself in sensation—all of the things he'd wanted to know, she would tell him.
"I love your cock, Kuon." She writhed as her other hand found her breast again. "I think about it all the time—because you made me like this—I wasn't like this—I was pure—" She whimpered as she thrust her fingers inside herself. "But now all I think of is how you fill me—how you stretch me—how I want to taste you." She moaned in frustration. "My fingers aren't the same—Kuon—it's nothing like the way you fuck me—I need—I need you…"
"Kyoko," he said.
"I need you to fuck me," she cried out. "I want everything you want—I want you to fill me—I don't want you to ever hold back—treat me as your slut, please, please, please—"
She kept moaning as she got closer, saying his name, telling him every thought that flitted into and out of her mind.
And when her body was arching up like a taut bow, he knew. "Cum for me," he said.
Her mouth parted in a silent 'o.' He watched as all of her body tensed—her hand desperately rubbing at her clit—she cried out, keening into her empty room. He could see how her muscles pulsed—he came with her, ropes of his cum making a mess of his fingers, his clothing, his furniture. He grabbed his discarded shirt, wiping himself off and then collapsed back onto the couch, panting. On the screen, he saw how she lay limp on her bed.
"Kyoko?" he called out.
She grabbed at the phone, bringing it closer to her face. "Kuon," she said. She was blushing again, and looking as if she would bolt at any second.
"I love you," he said.
She smiled wanly. "I love you too."
=.=.=
He didn't want to let her go so quickly after that. In the languor following this encounter, they both understood: if they were going to be far apart, they would need to find some way to be together. And though this was not nearly as satisfying as the real thing, there was an illicit thrill to it. He wanted to make sure that they spoke on the things they needed to—safewords and scenarios, her limits, the things that turned her on and the things that didn't.
It was late when they ended their call.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Author's Note (again): Hiya. So…this chapter was entirely unplanned. As in…I have the next chapter already drafted, but then something felt like it was missing, so, like…eh, earlier this week I had the bright idea of "HEY PARKER, WHY NOT DO AN INTERMEDIATE CHAPTER? MAYBE A SHORT ONE? IT DOESN'T NEED TO BE LONG! AND OH, THEY HAVEN'T HAD PHONE/VIDEO SEX YET SO MAYBE YOU SHOULD DO THAT TOO?"
I really need to not listen to that voice. The week was insanely busy because…ah hahahaha, everyone wants everything done before the holidays at work! It all landed down onto the Parker, so the Parker was sitting there working frantically instead of writing better dirty smut. There may be repeated dialogue tags and/or words within paragraphs that occur because of various 'moving text around,' becauuuuuse…I DID NOT HAVE TIME TO PROOFREAD. And a lot of this was written super late at night. Whomp whomp.
I hope you still enjoyed it. Iunno.
I really don't think this is my best work. It was written too quickly in a room full of Jesus statues, and so, I say, meh. MEH!
BUT! I *AM* publishing a chapter tomorrow. A Christmas Eve chapter.
AND SO: see you tomorrow.
Parkerbear, 23Dec2023.