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Title: The Camera Eye: Bring In The Understudy [1/2]
Chapter: Eighteenth in The Camera Eye series. Links to previous installments can be found here. Split into two parts because of LJ’s post limits; link to part 2 can be found at the end.
Author: Boots
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Porn industry AU, drama, smut, romance
Warnings: Male/male sex, polyamory, exhibition/voyeurism (since the characters work in the porn industry), glove/leather fetishism, deep-throating.
Pairing: Yo-ka (Diaura) X Byou (SCREW) and vice versa; Yuuki (Lycaon) X Yo-ka; Yuuki X Ruki; Byou X Jin (SCREW); mentions of Kai X Uruha and Ruki X Shou.
Disclaimer: GazettE/SCREW/D=OUT/BORN characters belong to PS Company, Alice Nine characters are now free agents, Lycaon belongs to Vogue Entertainment and Diaura belongs to Ains. I own the story only.
Summary: All systems look go for PSC Productions’ latest co-production with the indies – a super-hot star, an award-worthy script, a main pairing that promises great things. But then something goes bizarrely wrong – and one performer finds himself a star at the last possible minute.
Comments: Belated birthday fic for Byou! The basic plot of the video being made here is based on a real (mainstream) porno called Fallen, directed by Brad Armstrong, property of Wicked Pictures (though the devil element in the video is my own invention). No, I didn’t see the full video, but I saw clips/a summary in a documentary on porn that was aired on Showtime, and thought the plotline was perfect for Yo-ka. Glove elements courtesy of Diaura’s Moratorium PV, which manages to out-glove porn even The Invisible Wall. And finally – points to you if you know where the title of the video being filmed comes from!

Uruha gazed at the tablet in his hand, reading his E-mail. Around him, members of the crew were moving pieces of scenery into place, setting up cameras and adjusting boom mikes – the usual preparations for a shoot.

It was the last day of filming on Kai and Shou’s latest romance/porn video – and it wasn’t a sex scene. They were done with those. This was actually a plot-related scene, where Kai’s character got some good news about a business deal.

The video on Uruha’s mind, however, was the next one he was going to be shooting – the second in their co-production deal with indie porn company Eros, known for its lineup of unconventional young porn stars dubbed Suicide Boys. The first one had starred the company’s biggest name, Yuuki, and had gone very well – to the point where they’d submitted it for consideration in the Japan Adult Video Association Male Awards.

Fortunately, as he scrolled through the inbox, he saw the message he was looking for. “Script done. PDF attached. We’re both going home to pass out because we’ve been living on adrenaline and Starbucks for the last few days.”

He glanced through the attached document. Jin and Saga had more than earned their pay on their second collaboration. It was a great story, and perfect for the star they were going to be working with. He made a quick mental calculation of what it was going to cost – the budget was going to be a bit more than usual, but not bring-down-threats-of-fire-and-brimstone-wrath-from-his-boss level.

Next thing he did was contact Sparxxx, the powerful porn blogger who had been responsible for PSC Productions hooking up with Eros. “I’m going to be skirting the drop-dead deadline for the JAVAs with my next video, but I think it might be award-worthy,” he wrote. “Think you might be able to pull some strings with the awards committee if you need to? There’s an exclusive interview with the star in it for you. Thanks!”

He knew he didn’t need to name the star. Sparxxx was the one responsible for this particular person ending up in their second co-production. The blogger would be overjoyed to get the interview.

Uruha put the iPad down. Time to wrap up what he was working on so he could move ahead to the next thing – and he had to admit a genuine tingle of anticipation at the thought.

* * *

In a rather small apartment, a young man sat on the floor with another tablet, reading the script that had just been submitted to him.

He didn’t look very much like a Suicide Boy at the moment. He was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt with a stylized skull on it – pretty standard off-duty porn star wear. He didn’t have a ton of makeup, and while his hair was still dyed – a dark brown at the moment, though it had been blond not too long ago – it was clean of sprays and gels.

“So what do you think?” came another voice from the bathroom doorway. He looked up and saw the man he lived with – one towel hiding his pink hair from view, the other wrapped around his waist. The second was purely to keep water from dripping, of course – Yuuki had no shame about walking around naked on- or off-camera.

The other man put the iPad down. “It’s the longest script I’ve ever gotten,” he said. “And the best.”

“Told you these guys are good,” Yuuki said. “They surprised me. I was expecting some sort of cookie-cutter stuff – but it was obvious they’ve seen our other videos. They wrote the kind of part that I could play. Well, you know that – you were in the video.”

“Just that one part. The one scene with you. I didn’t read the whole script. I was shooting another video at the same time, remember.”

“Shame that you couldn’t have been around more.” Yuuki reached into the closet and pulled out a yukata, pulling it on. “Their sets are fun, believe it or not.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were turning into a corporate porn slave.” The words were said in a teasing tone.

“I’m nobody’s slave.” Yuuki grabbed the iPad and playfully hit his roommate over the head with it. “Except you when we get into that kind of mood.”

“And you’re not corporate, either?”

“I’m the opposite of corporate. You should know that, Yo-ka.”

“Of course I do.” He pulled Yuuki down beside him. “You’re the one who got me into this business.”

“You were going to do it anyway,” Yuuki said. “You were made for it.”

“Maybe,” Yo-ka said. “But you gave me a push.”

“I gave you a lot more than that,” Yuuki said. “And you liked every bit of it.”

“I always do,” Yo-ka said.

The iPad fell to the floor as they kissed. Yo-ka would read the rest of the script later. Right now, he was occupied with more pleasant matters.

* * *

“The film’s called Datenshi Blue,” Uruha told the group of regulars gathered in his office. (Datenshi literally meant “fallen angel.”) “Yo-ka is playing a guardian angel who slacks off, loses sight of his charge and the guy gets killed. So he’s stripped of his wings and thrown out of heaven. He has to adjust to life as a human – and that means having the kind of relationships he couldn’t when he was an angel.”

“Meaning, sex,” Aoi said.

“Of course, sex,” Ruki said. “This is a porno, what the fuck do you think he’s going to be doing? Riding a unicycle and juggling?”

“So he sleeps with a bunch of different guys,” Uruha continued. “He’s feeling guilty over what happened, being self-destructive. To make matters worse, he’s being tempted by a devil who’s trying to get him to join other fallen angels in the forces of hell – that’s Yuuki’s part.

“And then finally, he’s wandering around where he sees another guy – that’s you, Ruki – who’s just gotten dumped, is dejected and isn’t looking where he’s going. The fallen angel pushes him out of the way of a truck at the last second. He talks to him, makes love to him, makes him feel good about life again – and feels like he’s redeemed himself, because he’s saved a life. They start seeing each other, falling in love.

“So then, the devil comes back and the angel rejects him, saying he’s finally learned what it is to be human and he’d rather be that than an angel or a devil,” Uruha concluded.

“Pretty damn deep for a porno,” Kazuki said. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Jin.”

“That’s what enough double lattes with an extra espresso shot will do,” Jin said.

“And the whiskey we had afterward didn’t hurt, either,” Saga added.

“So I’m guessing the ending is my character lives happily ever after with this guy?” Ruki said.

“Well, yes,” Uruha said. “He gave you back your happiness, you gave him true humanity.”

“A match made in heaven!” said Tora, dramatically.

“Or at least at the bottom of a lot of coffee cups,” Kazuki added.

“Hey, Ruki, congratulations, you get Final Fuck again!” Aoi said. “How does it feel?” He pretended to hold a microphone in his face.

“I’ll tell you after we get done shooting,” Ruki said.

“Anyone want candy, by the way?” Saga said, holding out a bag. “We started eating them when we were writing, and then stopped because we figured it was dangerous to combine sugar with all that caffeine.”

“What kind of candy?” Tora stuck his nose in the bag.

“Some sort of fruit gummy stuff,” Saga said. “I think there’s raspberry, orange, grape, a couple of other kinds.” He yanked the bag away. “And it’s rude to stick your nose in other people’s bags.”

“I’ll try a couple,” Uruha said, holding his hand out.

“Me, too,” said Aoi – and he was followed by Kazuki and Shou sticking their hands out as well.

“What the hell,” Ruki said, holding his hand out, too – and was rewarded by red and purple candies dropping into it. He put the red one in his mouth, chewed . . . and suddenly, his face froze. His eyes bugged out. He began making choking and gagging noises.

The other attendees just stared at him, mouths open – and then, they jumped on him at once. “Ruki!” Shou said, pounding on his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you choking?” Uruha said. “Did you inhale it?”

Ruki gagged some more – and then spit the thing out into his hand, immediately tossing it in the garbage. “That was NOT fucking raspberry,” he said in a hoarse voice. “That was STRAWBERRY.”

There was a pause, and then Aoi suddenly started to laugh. It wasn’t just a small, dignified chuckle, either – it was the kind of loud laugh that was akin to a braying animal. Kazuki joined in, and then Tora and Saga were laughing as well. Even Shou was chuckling behind his hand.

“I don’t see what’s so goddamn funny,” Ruki said. “You know how much I hate strawberry anything.”

“That’s beyond hate,” Aoi laughed. “It looked like you were being poisoned.”

“Let’s see YOU eat something you hate that much!” Ruki said. “And let’s see how YOU react!”

Uruha smiled to himself. Despite the slight bump with Ruki and the strawberry candy, it was looking like this was going to go well – maybe even better than the last one.

* * *

Yo-ka didn’t know what to make of his first day on a corporate porn set.

He was used to everything being done on a shoestring. You did your own wardrobe, your own makeup, and you carried your own cooler if you wanted food and drink between takes. But here was Uruha, showing him the apartment where they were going to be shooting his fallen angel character’s at-home scenes.

“We have full reign of the place,” he said. “If you have food you want to keep on hand, just put it in the fridge. You have stuff you want to stash, toss it in one of the closets.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yo-ka looked around. This really was a full apartment. Okay, he’d shot in plenty of apartments – but those were always the homes of somebody’s cousin that they got to borrow for a couple of hours, as long as they kept mum about what they were REALLY doing in there. “Do you guys own this place?”

“We have a rich backer,” Uruha said. “He owns a couple of places he lets us use. We just redecorate them for every video. Our fans have come to recognize them, though. They have names for them – this set is called The Bachelor Pad.”

“Amazing.” Yo-ka wasn’t quite as hardline about “not selling out” as some Suicide Boys (like Yuuki, before he made his first video with this crew) but he still felt not-entirely-comfortable in this situation, at least not yet.

“So, make yourself at home,” Uruha said. “We’ll get started soon as the crew is finished setting up. I’ll see you in a few.” He went to check on the cameras.

Yo-ka walked into the kitchen, still unable to believe it. A fridge for their use. A fucking fridge. It was really like being in Hollywood.

Well, if it was available to use, he was going to use it. He knew just what he was going to put in there – his favorite things in the world. Melon soda . . . and strawberries.

* * *

They were several days into the shoot now. They had filmed the dramatic scenes involving Yo-ka’s character’s fall from heaven, his initial intimate encounters with human men (one involving two other Suicide Boys, another involving Ryoga), his temptation by the devil and a kinky dream sequence involving him and Yuuki.

And now, it was time to do what was the true heart and soul of the video – the love story. They were going to shoot the apartment scenes first – the sex and the intimate conversations – and finally, location shooting.

In addition to the street scene where Yo-ka’s character saved Ruki’s from the truck (which would be pieced together through clever editing so nobody would be in real danger of being hit), there would be a montage sequence of them strolling through Shibuya and Harajuku, just shopping and enjoying each other’s company.

Yo-ka was actually amazing even himself with the pace he’d been able to keep up. It was a lot more physically and emotionally taxing than anything he did with indie porn – he actually found the dramatic acting, especially the scenes where his character was newly fallen, to be harder and more exhausting than any of the sex.

But he was enjoying it. It was more satisfying overall than just about anything he’d ever done. Every day, he left the set with a true feeling of accomplishment.

And now, they were getting ready to do his first sex scene with Ruki. He could hear Uruha shouting directions to the crew, could hear the makeup girl talking to his co-star. He was going to have to fortify himself with a snack before the cameras started rolling – he was going to need the energy. He opened the fridge.

A few minutes later, Ruki was done with makeup and waiting on the set for his new co-star to arrive. He was looking forward to this, especially since Yuuki had given this guy his highest recommendation.

“I might be biased,” Yuuki told him, “but he’s amazing. Seriously incredible. You’re going to enjoy yourself. Oh, and he’s a great kisser, too.”

The new co-star in question poked his head into the room, wiping something from his mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I’m ready for makeup,” he said.

“You seem mellow about all this,” Ruki said. “Are you used to working with new co-stars?”

“It doesn’t bother me.” Yo-ka sat in the chair and tilted his face upward to the makeup girl. “Besides, I’ve been looking forward to working with you.”

Only in this business could “working with” be a euphemism for “fucking,” Ruki thought. “I hope I’m worth your wait,” he said.

Several minutes later, the two were on the set, being briefed by Uruha. “We’re doing your scene together at the end of the video first,” he said. “I figured that would be the better one to start with, there’s less angst attached. We’re doing the post-truck scene and the comfort sex later on, when you’ve settled in with each other a little. So when I say ‘action,’ you start to kiss, and then . . .” He outlined the scene, as the two listened intently.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Yo-ka said as they took their places sitting on the bed next to each other.

“Not as much as I will,” Ruki said. If he lived up to Yuuki’s billing, Yo-ka would be one for the record books.

“Okay,” Uruha said. “Places!”

“Speed!” said the sound man.

“And . . . action!”

The two men leaned in toward each other. Yo-ka tenderly cupped Ruki’s face in his gloved hand – he’d always been known for wearing stylish and sexy gloves in his videos, and this one was no exception. He leaned in for the kiss, their mouths met, their lips opened . . .

And suddenly, Ruki was pulling away, choking and gagging.

“CUT!” Uruha shouted. Ruki fell down to the bed, still gagging.

Yo-ka was baffled. “What . . . what did I . . .”

Ruki pointed at him. “Strawberries,” he gasped. “He’s been eating strawberries!”

“But . . . but . . . I eat them before every scene,” Yo-ka said, looking even more confused.

“You always taste like strawberries?” Ruki made something of a little hacking noise.

“After I eat them I do.” Now Yo-ka was more confused than ever.

“I can’t do this,” Ruki said, suddenly getting up and walking off the set.

“Ruki?” Uruha said. “Wait!”

“I’ll do anything for you guys. You know that. But not strawberries,” Ruki said.

Uruha watched him watch off. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, what was he going to do? How did he know that Yo-ka had been snacking on strawberries? He should have said something to him about Ruki’s extreme hatred for the things. But who would have thought it would even be an issue?

He glanced back at the Suicide Boy. Great, he was now going to think his first impression of corporate porn performers was correct – that they were all divas. Because what Ruki just did would look very diva-like to someone who wasn’t familiar with his near-psychotic hatred of strawberries.

Uruha was going to need a plan B, and he was going to need it fast – or this whole co-production with Eros could fall apart.

* * *

Jin claimed that the reason he wanted to visit the set of the video was to see his script in action, to know how the thing he and Saga had worked so hard on was turning out. And yes, that wasn’t a complete lie, because they’d worked their asses off on this thing.

But he had to admit the real reason was he was curious about the new Suicide Boy – and so was his lover.

“He’s hot, all right,” Byou said as they approached the building where The Bachelor Pad was. “But is he, you know, stuck up? Like they say some of those Suicide Boys are?”

“I just met him once,” Jin said. “When he was on the set of the last video with Yuuki. He seemed really nice.” He gave Byou a nudge. “And you shoud be one to talk about stuck up, since you’re the one they call the . . .”

Byou nudged Jin back. “Hey! No using the D-word!”

“Have I ever said ‘diva’ to you?”

“You just did.”

“Do I detect you wanting to co-star with this guy in the future?” Jin said, pushing the button of the elevator.

Byou sighed.. “I wish I could have been in this video. Not just because of him. Because I like the script.”

“Well, Eros gets say in the casting. They want their own boys in there. They like Ryoga because he looks like one of them. And they like Ruki because he has the megastar status without Aoi’s ego baggage.” He looked over at Byou. “Next video, though . . .”

They paused by the door of the Bachelor Pad. When they were filming, Uruha would put a hotel-style “do not disturb” sign on the doorknob outside. They didn’t see one – so they figured it would be okay to enter. Jin knocked on the door, they waited . . .

A frantic-looking Uruha suddenly yanked the door open. “Oh, it’s you!” he said as soon as he saw Byou. He grabbed the actor by the arm and pulled him into the apartment so hard he almost flew off his feet.

“Um . . . hi?” said Jin, slowly walking in after them. What the hell was going on?

“I need you to jump in front of a truck,” Uruha said. “Can you do that?”

Byou looked utterly baffled. “I know you want us to give a lot for the company,” he said, “but kill myself?”

“No, the video, the video! I need you to take over the love interest part!”

Byou looked over his shoulder at Jin. Jin just looked at Byou. They just stood there for a long moment, staring at each other with eyes and mouths open.

“What happened to Ruki?” Jin said.

“Strawberries,” Uruha said.

Now the two members of the Screw Crew were beginning to wonder if they’d slipped into some sort of alternate dimension. Flying pigs would be passing through the apartment any moment now.

“It’s Yo-ka,” Uruha said. “He loves strawberries. He’s been eating them all along. I didn’t know, but . . . apparently, he tastes of them. Ruki kissed him once, and well . . .”

Jin looked around. “Where is he?”

“Ruki? He’s gone. He just walked out. He’s never quit a video before.”

“And Yo-ka?”

“He’s in the next room, wondering what the hell he did.”

“So . . . I’m supposed to take over Ruki’s WHOLE part?” Byou said.

“All of it,” Uruha said. “We’ll do all the sex first – that’ll give you time to learn the lines.”

Jin looked at Byou. “Well, you wanted to be in the video,” he said. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Doesn’t Eros get approval on the casting, though?” Byou said.

“I’ll tell them Ruki got sick,” Uruha said. “It’s not a lie, he looked sick as hell.” He reached out and took Byou’s hand. “Please, Byou. We can’t delay this video. We have to submit it immediately if we want to make the JAVA Awards – and Yo-ka is giving an award-worthy performance. Your own lover co-wrote an award-worthy script. Please say you’ll do it.”

Byou just shook his head slowly, as if to clear it. This was a dream, right? Yep, this was a really weird dream. He was going to wake up any second now. Like . . . right now. Not waking up? Damn. How about now? Nope.

Well, crap. He really was being handed the love interest role in a big co-production against a hot guy. Because of Ruki’s hatred of strawberries. Truth stranger than fiction, you couldn’t make that shit up. Might as well just go with it.

Curtain up. Bring in the understudy.

Byou squeezed his director’s hand, gently. “Uruha – you don’t have to beg me to have sex on camera with a guy like Yo-ka.”

“You’ll do it?”

“You better believe it.”

“Terrific. Let’s go in there and I’ll introduce you to him.”

* * *

Yo-ka sat on the bed, surrounded by now-idle cameras and sound equipment, just kind of staring at the wall.

What the hell had just happened? He was enjoying himself so much, feeling at home, thinking this company might actually be somewhere he’d want to be . . .

And then, Ruki had refused him – that gagging violently couldn’t be anything but – and stormed off the set. It was the kind of diva fit that all the other Suicide Boys accused corporate porn actors of having all the time.

Before this happened, he was thinking he could go back and tell his compadres that they were wrong, that it was all a myth, that corporate porn people were actually great to work with. Well, he couldn’t do that anymore, could he?

The door opened. Uruha stuck his head in. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Yo-ka said, looking rather down. “I guess . . . it’s all fallen through, now?”

“No way,” said Uruha. “We’re going on with it.”

“What happened?” Yo-ka said. “I mean, with Ruki?”

“He has a thing with strawberries,” Uruha said. “He hates them. I mean, REALLY hates them. More than I’ve seen anybody hate a food before. It’s almost like they mugged his mother in an alley or something.”

“I wish someone had told me,” Yo-ka said.

“We didn’t know you were eating them,” Uruha said, bowing. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Yo-ka said, bowing in return. “I didn’t know.”

“There was no way you could,” Uruha said. “But it’s okay – I’ve got another co-star for you.” He called over his shoulder, “Byou, come in.”

Byou walked into the room, waving, with a little smile. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Yo-ka said. “You don’t have a psychotic allergy to strawberries, do you?”

“Not in the least,” Byou said. “Look, I know this is short notice, but . . .” He sat next to the other man. “I do want to work with you.”

“Short notice doesn’t bother me,” Yo-ka said. “I’ve done it plenty of times before. You’re the other oral specialist, aren’t you?”

“I’d rather not think of myself as the OTHER oral specialist,” Byou said. “But yes, that’s what I do. What about you? Do you have a specialty?”

“Mainly it’s these.” He held up his hand, which was covered with a leather glove. “I wear gloves in all my videos, during the sex scenes. It’s kind of my trademark."

“A glove specialist?” Byou looked closer. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it before.”

“They keep coming up for reasons for me to wear them during sex scenes.” He waved his hand – a gesture that struck Byou as extremely graceful. “In this video, my character had crosses on the backs of his hands when he was an angel, but after he fell, they became ugly scars. So . . . the gloves.” He waved his hand again.

“At least it’s a trademark you can call your own, right?” Okay, Byou couldn’t keep his eyes off the other man. He really was beautiful. He wasn’t as overly decorated as a lot of Suicide Boys – and he didn’t need it. His eyes drew you in. His lips were full and soft. And then, there were those hands.

“You need one in indie porn,” Yo-ka said “It’s pretty competitive. None of us have contracts, we’re all trying to get cast in the same roles.”

“I can’t see a casting director not wanting to hire you.” There was a definite flirtatious edge to Byou’s voice.

“I can’t see a casting director not wanting to hire you, either,” Yo-ka said. “You’re . . . magnetic.”

“Magnetic?” Byou leaned toward Yo-ka. “I find that interesting. Tell me, why do you say that?”

“Because I can’t take my eyes off you,” Yo-ka said. Which was true. He’d mentally prepared himself to work with Ruki . . . but this new development was, quite frankly, blowing his mind. He was aware of Byou – he’d seen his videos. He knew that he was sexy as hell, had a fabulous body, was very good at pleasing his partners . . .

He wasn’t prepared, though, for the aura the man would give off when one got close to him. It really was like he was drawing him in.

It was the kind of instant attraction that happened in bars – usually aided by alcohol. Under these circumstances, though, there was no alcohol available – so it was probably a good thing that both of them were attractive.

Uruha walked into the room. “Okay, guys,” he said. “Do you think you can do this? Remember, I don’t make any actors go through anything they don’t want to, or that makes them uncomfortable.”

Yo-ka smiled at Byou. “I can do it,” he said.

“Me, too,” said Byou.

“All right,” Uruha said. “Byou, get made up, and while you’re doing that, I’ll outline what’s going on in this scene, and what I want you to do . . .” He paused. “Um, you’re not wearing underwear with holes or anything like that, are you?”

“You’re lucky,” Byou said. “Brand new pair of black briefs.” Fortunately, the rest of his outfit was presentable, too – a T-shirt with some sort of English slogan and a pair of black jeans.

Uruha watched the faces of the two actors as he outlined the scene, trying to see any hesistation – there was none. He nodded – he knew that Byou was all pro, which is why he yanked him into the room and gave him the role on the spot – he knew he could handle it.

The director was really impressed, though, with the Suicide Boy. He was surpassing his expectations. He made it a point to work with both him and Yuuki again.

The makeup girl – who was used to seeing odd things on these sets by now – finished with Byou, and he took his place sitting on the bed opposite Yo-ka, where Ruki had been before.

“Okay, let’s go,” the director said, retreating behind the camera. “Quiet on the set . . .”

“Speed!” the soundman called.

“And . . . action!”

The two men leaned in toward each other, and when they kissed, it did not look like two people who were suddenly thrown together by misfortune. No, the kiss was warm, slowly becoming hot, their lips opening up for their tongues to find one another.

Byou reached up with one hand to gently cup Yo-ka’s face and move up to his hair, stroking it softly. The other hand was sliding down to the front of his co-star’s shirt, starting to work on the buttons. Yo-ka responded, reaching for the front of Byou’s pants, starting to unfasten the belt – something he was very used to doing with gloves by now.

Both shirts hit the floor at just about the same time – and for the first time, Byou saw the full glory of what his new co-star was wearing on his hands. No, more like his hands and his arms, because the black leather gloves went all the way up to his elbow.

If his hands were eye-catching before, they were flat-out mesmerizing now. He’d seen plenty of guys in sexy gloves before, of course – it came with the territory in this profession. But not quite like this.

“They’re gorgeous,” he said. It was totally unscripted dialogue, of course.

“Do you like them?” Yo-ka improved in return, holding one arm up. “I bought them for you.”

“Yes,” Byou said, breathlessly. Fuck . . . those were the sexiest damn things he’d ever seen. Why the hell was his body burning up at the sight of his hands? Maybe it was the way they were formed, maybe the fact that the leather seemed to be part of him. Maybe it was the intriguing laces at the end of the gloves.

Uruha, meanwhile, was catching on to what was going in between his actors. This was a potentially brilliant scene in the making. He grabbed for the whiteboard he kept by his side and scribbled some notes, holding it up and hoping Yo-ka would see it.

Fortunately, he did. He glanced over at Uruha, trying not to be conspicuous, then stood up from the bed, ready to put his director’s plan into action. “Lie back,” he told the other man. When Byou obeyed, he grasped Byou’s pants and underwear and stripped them off, followed by his own.

He was wearing nothing but the gloves now. The camera lovingly moved over his whole body, letting the audience see every bit of his naked torso as he leaned over Byou, kissing his lips again. Then, he pulled back, starting to lightly run his hands over the other man’s body, over his chest, down to his stomach, letting him feel the touch of the gloves.

Byou closed his eyes. Oh, fuck, but this felt good. Incredibly good. He should be used to the idea of leather on naked skin, but this was . . . leather caressing him. Stroking him. Exploring him. The fingers circled his navel, then moved down, down further . . .

The hands shifted to the left, bypassing his cock entirely and heading down his leg. The leather pressed against his skin, squeezing, seeming to mold the shape of his thigh like a sculptor with clay.

Byou couldn’t believe how hot he felt. He had the fingers of one hand in his mouth, the other rubbing against his own nipple. And his cock was hard, so very fucking hard . . .

The leather moved down his calf, to his foot, caressing even that – making Byou shiver a little. What the hell? Touching his feet usually didn’t have that big an effect on him. It was as if those goddamn gloves were magic – or maybe just that the man wearing them was unusually good at their use in sex.

Yo-ka patted his leg, indicating he wanted him to turn over, and Byou flipped over, pulling himself up on his hands and knees. Yo-ka moved back up, and up . . . and when he reached his partner’s ass, he didn’t skip this time. He drew back one gloved hand and delivered a sharp smack to the left cheek.

Byou actually jumped and gasped. The leather gave the spank a sharp edge a bare hand would not. When Yo-ka repeated the gesture on the other side, he cried out a little.

The gloved hands were caressing his bottom now, the leather sliding over the skin with a gentle, soft caress, squeezing the cheeks, tracing their shape . . and then letting his fingers slide into the cleft a little, exploring.

When that happened, Byou parted his legs, pushing his bottom toward him. Oh, fuck, he wanted . . . he wanted . . .

Yo-ka moved the fingers away, delivering another small but effective smack – and Byou gasped, “Please!”

“Please, what?” Yo-ka said, letting his fingers tease the cleft.

“That,” Byou said. “I want more of that!”

Yo-ka caught on. He reached for a bottle of liquid lube that was near the pillows. He poured it on his fingers – fortunately, this particular kind of lube was safe for leather, because he was going to need more of it than he would for bare fingers.

Byou was panting when he felt one lubed, gloved finger slide into his cleft, pressing against his entrance. This was some sort of madness. He was a seme. He bottomed only rarely – and he didn’t think he’d ever done it on camera before. No matter – not when the thing was starting to push into him very slowly . . .

“This is definitely what you want?” Yo-ka said.

“Yes!” Byou replied, hoarsely.

And then the finger was entering him, and he was being filled with solidness and leather, the rough fabric rubbing against sensitive nerve endings. He was being glove-fucked. Byou let out a noise that was something like the growl of an animal.

Yo-ka wrapped the other arm around his torso, pulling him backward. His other gloved hand slid across Byou’s lips, as his finger began to gently slide in and out of his ass. Now Byou had leather pleasuring him from both ends. He pushed back on the one fucking him, sucking on the ones that slid in his mouth.

“You want more?” Yo-ka leaned over and kissed along Byou’s neck, just adding to the sensual overload. Byou could do nothing but moan around the welcome invasion of his mouth and thrust back harder on the thing that was pushing in and out, wriggling inside him, filling him with the luscious, forbidden sensation of leather.

“Just relax . . .” The hands left both ends, and Byou leaned forward, panting, realizing he was trembling all over. But it wasn’t for long – Yo-ka was busy re-lubing not just the first finger, but a second as well, and pouring extra lube into Byou’s cleft for good measure.

Then, there was solidness pressing at him again, and pressing more, and stretching . . . Two fingers this time. Two! He was being filled and filled, utterly stuffed with leather, making him feel like he was going to burst – it was almost too much, almost at the border of where it would be discomfort instead of wild pleasure . . .

But it was that very flirting with the border that made it so exciting.

The fingers moved in and out of him, and he thrust back against them again, moaning loudly. He was going deeper, oh, yes, he was being opened up but good, he’d be able to take his cock easily now . . .

When the fingers slid out again, there was the squish of the tube as Yo-ka prepared himself. Byou felt his hips grabbed, felt himself guided into position so he was sitting on Yo-ka’s lap, facing away from his lover and toward the camera – the so-called “reverse cowboy” position. It was a common one in gay porn, designed to show off the uke’s body – and his orgasm – to full advantage.

This one was going to have another purpose, however.

Byou moved backward, feeling his new lover’s cock press against him, then penetrate, the flesh feeling silky smooth after the roughness of the leather, but hard, so deliciously hard. God, how long had it been since he’d been fucked? He suddenly realized he’d missed this feeling.

“You feel so good,” Yo-ka murmured as Byou started to thrust on him, slowly, and the words just spurred Byou on, making him gradually increase both the speed and the depth of thursts, soft groans becoming louder, more intense sounds of pleasure.

Byou closed his eyes, forgetting the camera, forgetting everything but the hard thing sliding in him. He was moving down on it faster and harder than he ever had, he was taking this cock deeper than he could ever remember being penetrated.

And then, oh, fuck, the leather was back, lubed again, this time fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking, moving over him slowly, along the shaft, up to the tip (which Yo-ka circled, damn near making Byou come), then back down, wrapping around him.

Byou pumped his hips, thrusting on the cock inside him, pushing his own erection in and out of the encircling, caressing leather – he was fucking the glove like it had fucked him. He felt his heart pounding, his whole body pouring with sweat, he didn’t even know what kind of noises he was making now . . .

And finally, he thrust down hard, and the pleasure burst so intensely he thought his whole body was going to explode. He cried out, knowing his essence was pouring all over that glove.

He sagged forward, his head and shoulders hitting the bed. He felt Yo-ka grab his hips, and then a few more hard, deep thrusts – and then, his co-star was crying out as well, pulling out just in time to orgasm onto Byou’s ass.

Byou managed to twist around so they could kiss. The camera panned away from them to end the scene, and Uruha said, “And . . .cut!”

The room burst out in applause. Byou just sagged against Yo-ka, hanging onto him.

“I am going to be so sore tomorrow,” he murmured. “And it was so worth it.”

“Was that your first glove fetish scene?” Yo-ka said.

Byou nodded. “I didn’t even know I had a fetish like that before,” he said. “Guess I’m getting my boyfriend a pair of these.” He gently touched the gloves.

Uruha approached the bed. “That was unbelievable,” he said. “The fact that you both improved that on the spot – nothing less than incredible. It means you have great chemistry – you were made to work together.”

Yo-ka smiled, closing his eyes, looking rather tired himself. “I guess it’s lucky that the strawberry thing happened, isn’t it?”

“Lucky for me,” Byou murmured. “When we do our other sex scene, I’m going to give you the best blow job you ever had to thank you for that.”

Yo-ka yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “Mmmm, something to look forward to. Listen – when we’re wrapped up today, you want to go out for drinks or coffee or something? Usually I get to know my co-stars better before I do a scene with them, but, well . . .”

“You’ve never had an emergency co-star before?”

Yo-ka smiled, closing his eyes again. “Something like that.”

“You’re on,” Byou said. He’d tell Jin that his new co-star wanted to spend some time with him – pretty standard in the industry, Of course, that would probably result in their getting-to-know-you time being crashed by the Screw Crew, but that was okay. He figured his friends would want to get to know Yo-ka eventually.

If things kept going like this, Byou figured this wasn’t the last time he’d be co-starring with this guy – onscreen or off.

To Part 2


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 21st, 2015 04:27 pm (UTC)

That was absolutely beautiful!

Feb. 22nd, 2015 01:20 am (UTC)
Thank you so much! (Did you read the second half of the fic, too? I noticed you left the comment on the first part).
Feb. 22nd, 2015 01:28 am (UTC)

Your absolutely welcome!
Ah, no, I haven't come around to doing that yet since I've been editing my own GazettE-related fanfiction novel as of late. But I'm just about finished, so I'll be able to read the second part.

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )


Kai Fadeless - by ldybastet

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