Kis-My-Ft2, Trolling for Compliments

Title: Trolling for Compliments [Kitayama/Fujigaya]
Rating/Warnings: R
Summary: Kitayama gets a new haircut and Fujigaya breaks it in.
AN: Senga goes back to dark hair and I write about Kitayama for some reason. I’m not really sure what happened here, oops.

Trolling for Compliments

“You should go dark again.”

Fujigaya’s voice makes Kitayama turn from the mirror, where he’d been tugging at his bangs and wondering if it was time for a cut or not yet. Fujigaya is leaning against the doorway, and usually he pretends he isn’t looking if Kitayama meets his gaze directly, but this time Fujigaya keeps his eyes right where they are.

“You care why?” Kitayama asks. “Just because they won’t let you do what you want to your hair–”

“I didn’t say I cared,” Fujigaya cuts him off. “Just that you should. It looks good dark.” There’s a split second where Kitayama wonders if Fujigaya just complimented him or if he’s finally snapped from job pressure, but then Fujigaya adds, “Plus your style is about ten years overdue for an update.”

“Your leo-print underwear is about ten years overdue for an update, Kamen Teabag.”

“Eat it, grandpa,” Fujigaya retorts easily, brushing past him to go for his bag, conversation over.

Kitayama doesn’t mean to take him seriously, because taking hair advice from Fujigaya is like taking career advice from Akanishi, but somehow the next time he goes to the stylist, Kitayama finds himself looking in the mirror and thinking back to the last time he went dark. It had looked pretty good, and it has been a while. Gotta keep those fangirls on their toes, you know.

“I think I’d like to go back to black,” Kitayama finds himself saying. The stylist raises an eyebrow, but sends him off to be shampooed without further comment.

Kitayama gets more than a few raised eyebrows when he strolls into work the next day, plus a couple catcalls and swats to his rear, but that’s his own fault for not backing against the wall when he bumps into a couple of the more handsy Snowmen. Fortunately A.B.C-Z’s door is already firmly closed when he goes by, or else he would never make it to his own dressing room.

His own groupmates have a moment of surprised silence when they get a good look at him.

“Wow,” Senga blurts. “I forgot how good you look with dark hair!”

“Maybe you should try it sometime,” Yokoo comments, making Senga stick out his tongue. The others all compliment him as well, which Kitayama brushes off as a matter of course but is entirely pleased about, with one conspicuous exception.

Fujigaya gives Kitayama one slow look, then goes back to texting away on his phone without comment.

“Tcht,” Kitayama says to himself under his breath, not that he gives half a damn. He knows he looks good, he doesn’t need validation from Fujigaya Fuwafuwa Taisuke.

Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself, but as the day wears on and more people notice Kitayama’s style change, Fujigaya’s lack of comment about it starts to get under Kitayama skin. And then it starts to get under his skin that it’s getting under his skin, because seriously it’s ridiculous that he cares even a little.

“I think it’s a nice change,” Fujigaya’s manager says with approval when he comes to hand over a new schedule. “Don’t you think so, Fujigaya-kun?”

“Hm,” Fujigaya says, nose already buried in the papers he’s just been handed, and Kitayama can’t help but grind his teeth.

Even late dance practice can’t take Kitayama’s mind entirely off of it. Every time he gets himself properly focused on his own timing and the burn of his muscles, he checks himself in the mirror without thinking and has a second of dissonance with his reflection, and then he can’t help but glance over at Fujigaya’s reflection as well, who doesn’t seem to be having any problem focusing.

“Stare harder, damn,” Tamamori hisses at him, then blinks liked what did I do? when Kitayama gives him a glare back.

By the time practice is over, Kitayama is wound pretty tightly. Fortunately Yokoo has promised Nikaido and Senga dinner, so they are out of there about half a second after the choreographer calls stop, Tamamori close behind whining about showering, Miyata tagging along. Fujigaya is still checking a couple moves at half-speed in the mirrors, and as soon as the door swings shut behind Miyata, Kitayama marches right up to him, blocking Fujigaya’s view of himself in the mirrors.

“Can I help you?” Fujigaya asks. Kitayama crosses his arms and leans back against the bar, waiting. “Something you want?”

“Really?” Kitayama demands, pointing at his head. “Not a word about this? Not even gonna gloat it was all your idea?”

Fujigaya smirks, which is not the reaction Kitayama wants. “Want my approval that much, do you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t have some comment,” Kitayama pushes. He reaches up to run a hand up the back of his sweat-soaked hair, and doesn’t miss the way Fujigaya’s eyes track the movement. That’s more like it.

“You know you look good, people have been telling you all day,” Fujigaya says, voice cool. “But all that attention isn’t enough for you, oh no.” He takes a step closer. “Want me to run get a box for you so everybody can get a nice, long look?”

He takes one more step forward, right into Kitayama’s space, and that’s when Kitayama can finally see how dark Fujigaya’s eyes are, how much he really does like the dark hair. That’s all it takes to satisfy Kitayama, the urge to take a hold of Fujigaya’s T-shirt and shake subsiding.

Now that Fujigaya’s close enough for Kitayama to smell his cologne, he still wants to grab his T-shirt, but it’s for other reasons.

“You know what I like best about your hair?” Fujigaya says when Kitayama doesn’t rise to his bait. “How good it’s going to look wrapped around my fingers when you’re on your knees.”

“Give me one good reason why I should,” Kitayama says, uncrossing his arms to grab the bar on either side of him, slouching against it a little.

Fujigaya leans in to crush their mouths together, his form of persuasion not that subtle but hot enough in its own way. Kitayama lets him have his way, amused by how Fujigaya gets more and more aggressive, looking for the fight. Fujigaya curls one around Kitayama’s waist to press them more tightly together, the other hand sliding up into Kitayama’s hair, and Kitayama can feel all through his chest and hands how tense Fujigaya is too.

“Just be honest,” Kitayama purrs when Fujigaya pulls back to breathe. “You wanted that all day, right? You were just playing hard to get.”

“I’ll show you hard.” Fujigaya rocks his hips into Kitayama’s, and he’s definitely interested. He slides one hand down to squeeze Kitayama’s ass, and Kitayama arches into it, letting his head tip back a little for show. “You want a good reason? Suck me off and I’ll look at nothing but you the whole time. My attention’s what you really wanted, right?”

“Self-centered,” Kitayama accuses, but Fujigaya isn’t entirely wrong. “You have to return the favor.”

“You have to go first,” Fujigaya counters.

“Done,” Kitayama agrees immediately, because then he’ll get to enjoy his turn without having to care what happens next.

Fujigaya is already shoving his sweatpants down to mid-thigh as Kitayama drops to his knees, grunting when one of his knees cracks because they did have practice for hours already. He smirks at how hard Fujigaya already is, and how Fujigaya hisses when Kitayama does nothing more exciting than lick at his tip a little.

“You are totally not going to last,” Kitayama says, wrapping a hand around Fujigaya’s cock and stroking him tip to base. “So easy for it, Taisuke. When it’s my turn, you are gonna have to work for it.”

Fujigaya gets fingers into Kitayama’s hair as promised, wraps them tight enough that Kitayama feels it all over his skin. “Less lip, more mouth, shorty.” Kitayama sucks Fujigaya’s tip into his mouth and bobs his head just enough to make a big show of it. “You fucking tease. You know exactly how good that looks.”

Kitayama hums his agreement, but he doesn’t fight when Fujigaya uses his tight grip to push him further onto his cock. He lets his eyes flutter shut and relaxes his jaw, more than happy to let Fujigaya get himself off by feeling in control if that’s what does it for him.

“Fuck yes,” Fujigaya growls, starting to flex his hips into it. Kitayama brings his hands up to the front of Fujigaya’s thighs for balance, and he can feel the tremble of Fujigaya’s tired muscles when he digs his fingers in. His own cock is rock hard, and it would be so easy to reach down into his own sweats and stroke himself, but Kitayama resists because he’s not in the business of making Fujigaya’s job any easier if he can avoid it.

He can tell Fujigaya is close by the way his noise rise in pitch, by how his breath is catching. Kitayama slides one hand up to the base of Fujigaya’s cock and squeezes firmly, letting Fujigaya fuck through the tight ring of his fingers and into his mouth. Kitayama thinks about being being a dick and pulling off, making Fujigaya finish with just his hand, but if he swallows Fujigaya will have to match his ante, and that’s definitely worth it.

“Shit,” Fujigaya gasps, grip tightening just this side of painful in Kitayama’s hair. “Coming.” He spills over Kitayama’s tongue with a low groan, flexing his hips a couple more times before slowing to a stop.

Kitayama pulls his mouth away and flops back onto his ass with a grunt of relief at getting off of his knees. When he leans back on his hands to look up, he has to admit that Fujigaya does look good like this, cheeks bright pink, hair disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down the V of tan skin his t-shirt reveals.

“Good, right?” Kitayama grins. “It is so your turn.”

“In a second, fuck,” Fujigaya pants, still catching his breath, but he peels his eyes open to look Kitayama over in return. “Damn, your hair is a mess.”

“Just come down here already, I’m not getting up,” Kitayama orders, managing to lift his ass just enough to shove his sweats down over them. There’s a flash of relief on Fujigaya’s face that Kitayama only sees because he’s watching for it, and then Fujigaya flops down practically right in his lap. “Be more desperate for my dick, can you?”

“Shut up and watch a pro,” is Fujigaya’s response, and Kitayama’s laughter at how that’s probably not exactly what Fujigaya meant to say cuts off in a low moan as Fujigaya wastes no time sucking Kitayama’s cock past his lips.

It’s tempting to flop down onto his back, but Kitayama wants to watch, so he stays up on his hands. It gives him the perfect view of his cock sliding into Fujigaya’s mouth, the way Fujigaya’s eyes flutter shut and his cheeks hollow out. If he glances to the left, he gets an even better view of the two of them in the mirrors, Fujigaya’s sweats still sliding down over his ass, Fujigaya’s fist wrapped tight around the base of his cock.

“Times like these I can definitely appreciate your big mouth,” Kitayama says just to nettle. Fujigaya lifts his eyes up to narrow them briefly, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing to argue, which is just fine with Kitayama. The worst he does is scrape his teeth along Kitayama’s shaft a little, but Kitayama is worked up enough that everything feels good paired with the hot slickness of Fujigaya’s tongue against him, the tight suction of his mouth.

Despite his own big talk, Kitayama doesn’t last that much longer than Fujigaya, although he doesn’t bother to warn him when he’s close. The only warning that Fujigaya gets is Kitayama balancing on one hand to get a hand in Fujigaya’s hair, making sure he stays exactly where he is as orgasm rolls over Kitayama in hot pulses.

Kitayama’s arm gives out and he flops on his back to shiver himself out, other hand still tangled in Fujigaya’s hair. Feeling generous, Kitayama even gives Fujigaya’s hair a condescending little ‘good job’ scrunch.

“Thanks for working hard.” Kitayama chuckles when Fujigaya grumbles a couple choice names at him, but doesn’t move. “Shit, I don’t think I can move.”

“Must be hard work trolling for compliments all day.” Fujigaya pushes himself to a sitting position with obvious effort, then makes a face at his reflection with its wild hair.

“It looks good, right?” Kitayama stays right where he is on his back, grinning brattily. “Go on and say, I won’t tell.”

“Just because all my ideas are awesome,” Fujigaya sniffs, reaching down to give Kitayama’s dark hair a last yank before he struggles to his feet. Kitayama watches lazily as Fujigaya tries to make it look like he hasn’t been taken total advantage of.

He doesn’t look so bad with the dark hair himself, Kitayama thinks. Maybe he’ll be generous and help Fujigaya break in his next drama haircut, next time around.