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Kento grabs the white fluffy ball at the end of his long Santa hat and tugs the whole thing off, feeling with relief how his scalp receives some oxygen again.
”I know Santa costumes are cute but why do they have to be so hot?” Shori complains, shoving the red pants off and the electric crackle from the polyester is loud in the room.
”They should be hot, aren’t we sexy Santas?” Sou jokes, grinning widely enough to let everyone know how funny he thinks he is.
”Sexy Santas would have miniskirts,” Kento sighs, unbuttoning the shirt and shrugs out of it, happy he’s got a T-shirt underneath or the whole thing would be drenched in sweat.
”Would you wear that?” Fuma asks, a little too quickly and a little too seriously, and Kento turns around with raised eyebrows to look at Fuma, who meets his eyes for a moment too long.
”Excuse me?” he asks, but Fuma just shrugs and keeps fastening his jeans.
”Just a question,” Fuma says, but the tips of his ears are a little red. But Kento’s a good friend and lets it slide. For now.
”Wouldn't be the first time I wear a skirt,” he sighs. ”And probably not the last.”
”We’ll be in skirts until we retire,” Shori says wisely, and Sou groans from inside his sweatshirt.
~*~
Their Santa shoot was in early November, but as the Christmas decorations start popping up more and more, Kento’s reminded of Fuma’s comment every time he sees a Santa figure.
And when he passes a store window and sees a girl Santa costume, he figures the universe is telling him to just do it. It’s not the first time he wears a skirt after all. Besides, he’s very curious to see what would happen.
It’s a day in the middle of December and they’ve had a day sitting in meetings planning for the Dome tour and changes they should make. They’re all tired and Fuma’s head falls onto his crossed arms on the table when their manager announces a break.
”Ughh I’m so done,” he groans into the table. ”I just want a beer and something to distract me.”
”Why don’t you come over to my place later?” Kento offers before he really thinks it through, his brain recognizing a perfect opportunity before his emotions catch up. ”I can offer beer and video games.”
Fuma heavily lifts his head and looks up at him, a little surprised because they don’t really hang out together like that anymore. But then he seems to figure why not and simply shrugs. ”Sure. At eight?”
”Eight is perfect,” Kento agrees, trying to sound casual and he hopes he manages.
Eight gives him an hour and a half to get ready, which should be enough, but he’s not known for doing things half-heartedly and he doesn’t intend to do it now either.
When he gets home, he showers and thinks for at least five active minutes about if he should or not, but then ends up shaving his thighs. It feels weird and he looks surprisingly naked, but he figures the hair will grow back and this adds to the illusion. But he also can’t stop stroking his own skin because it’s really soft, the harsh line at the knee where his hair starts again something he might have to fix later.
He dries his hair and then carefully curls it a little to add volume, combing it out with his fingers to see it fall back more naturally.
He digs out the stolen eyeliner pencil from work and draws a subtle line around the edges of his eyes, just to add some definition.
He looks at himself in the mirror and thinks that he looks kind of slutty, he could go out clubbing like this. Which he considers a good result.
He digs out the costume he bought and shakes it out, finding it surprisingly less plasticky than the ordinary Santa suits they were given for work. Probably because girls care more, he figures.
It’s a dress with a miniskirt, and Kento’s happy for the stretch in it because his complete lack of boobs doesn’t show as much. It also has a little capelet to go on top, but he waits with that. He slips on the matching white thigh high socks and looks at himself in the mirror, thinking, perhaps a little conceited, that he would fuck himself.
It’s a couple minutes to eight and he cleans up the last few things, checking the timers on his Christmas lights and puts on some playlist that claims to contain 'Christmas ambience'.
He carefully watches himself in the mirror as he ties on the little capelet that flatteringly covers his muscular shoulders, making them look more delicate. He also pulls on the Santa hat, that’s so short the fluffy white ball just grazes his ear.
He poses before the mirror, twirling a little and he feels like he's living his AKB-girl fantasy.
He’s just considering taking a picture or two, just for himself, when the doorbell rings and he jumps.
He didn’t really give himself much time to think about how Fuma might react. If he’s going to laugh at him, find it dumb or if he’s actually going to think it’s sexy. Kento doesn’t really know Fuma’s preferences, but he knows Fuma’s attractive and that his comment that time meant something.
He wets his lips, takes a deep breath and mentally switches into his stage confidence, then opens the door.
”Hi, sorry if I’m… Late…” Fuma trails off, pausing with one foot on the threshold as he looks up and sees Kento.
Kento smiles and tilts his head cutely, as Fuma’s eyes trail pointedly from his softly curled hair to his cute little capelet and comes to rest at the exposed strip of skin at his thighs.
”Wow,” he finally gets out, and Kento can’t really read his tone, if it’s awkward or intruiged, but it’s definitely some parts impressed.
”No problem,” Kento replies to Fuma’s first comment, moving aside to let him in, and Fuma’s eyes follow the fluttering of his skirt against his legs when he does. ”Welcome.”
Fuma wordlessly steps inside, closing the door behind him and then looks Kento over again.
”I…” he starts, then trails off again and looks up at Kento’s face, expression confused and if Kento’s not mistaken, a little turned on. ”What’s… Uhm, what’s up with this?”
Kento shrugs, the little ball on his Santa hat bouncing as he does. ”Didn’t you ask me to wear a mini skirt?”
Fuma wets his lips. ”Uhm, well… I… I suppose I did.”
It’s clear that he’s playing along, uncertain where Kento’s going with this, and Kento can’t help smiling at the sudden power he has. It’s dangerous to give him power.
”And you said you wanted something to distract you, right?” he goes on, a little coy and Fuma nods slowly like he’s enchanted.
”Well?” Kento asks, grasping the edges of his circle skirt to show it off, looking up under lashes like girls tend to do. ”Is this distracting enough?”
”I…” Fuma starts, drawing in a breath he doesn’t seem to exhale again, eyes following the movement of Kento’s hands like a dog follows a tennis ball. ”Yeah. Yeah, I’d say so.”
”Good,” Kento smiles, his tone teasing now because this is too much fun. ”Why don’t you take off your clothes?”
Fuma blinks once and his eyes widen, but then he seems to understand and he blushes, the pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears really cute. ”Oh! Oh yeah, of course.”
He sets his bag down and shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it up and then kicks off his shoes, clearly trying to not look like he’s in a hurry and Kento looks away to hide his smile.
”Do you want a drink?” Kento asks, turning towards the kitchen as he asks. ”A beer?”
Fuma makes a noise like he starts to say something but then loses his train of thought, and Kento walks with a little more purpose, more deliberate shifting of his skirt. It’s so short it feels like his ass is exposed, but he knows it’s not. He’s a good boy who wears underwear.
He gets all the way to the fridge, reaching out for the handle before Fuma speaks up, voice a little rougher and that’s hot.
”No, thanks,” he says, and Kento hears him approach, but he still gasps in surprise as firm hands grab his hips. ”I don’t need a drink.”
Kento grips the fridge handle tighter as Fuma’s hips press up against his ass and there’s a very obvious erection fitting nicely between his ass cheeks through the thin layer of clothes he’s wearing. He gasps at the sensation and leans against the fridge door for support as Fuma more or less consciously tugs Kento’s hips closer to his own, setting him a little off balance.
”You look exactly as good as I thought you would in this,” Fuma says, voice deep and low as he leans in to speak against Kento’s ear, and Kento shudders.
Fuma’s hips are grinding slowly into his, and the heat of his chest warms Kento’s back, a ring clad hand coming up to support himself against the fridge door as the other wraps around Kento’s waist, bending him over a little more.
”I’m glad you like it,” Kento gets out, sounding somewhat cocky still, but his own erection is tenting his skirt and he just wants Fuma to fuck him senseless right here.
”Oh I like it,” Fuma confirms, almost a purr against the shell of Kento’s ear, before a tongue flicks out against it. ”Do you like it? I bet you feel sexy. Did it turn you on to get ready like this?”
”A bit,” Kento admits, and Fuma’s hips snap up harder into his, making him groan.
”That’s hot,” Fuma says, voice a little breathy, and Kento wants him to keep talking forever but also shut up. Fuma’s hands move again, both joining at his waist first but then trail down as he keeps talking. ”How long did you plan this for? A month? I bet you’ve been thinking about it more than I have. What did you imagine I’d do to you?”
Kento gasps and pushes back against Fuma as warm palms reach his bare thighs, fingertips teasing at the inside and he reflexively shifts to spread his legs a little.
”Fuck my brains out,” he replies, even though he didn’t think too hard about the details. But that’s what he wants right now.
”Mmm,” Fuma hums, fingertips of one hand slipping up to the edge of his underwear but then teasingly stop despite Kento’s squirming. ”That’s a very naughty thing to say.”
”I can be good,” Kento says, catching the Santa pun, then sighs as Fuma’s hips push into his a little harder. ”But I don’t think you’d like that as much.”
Fuma breathes a laugh against his ear, then presses a hot kiss to his temple. ”I think you’re right.”
Then he shifts again, and Kento’s spun around so quickly he doesn’t quite keep up, finding himself with his back against the fridge door and Fuma’s lips on his before realizes it happened.
He parts his lips as soon as he figures out he should, and Fuma’s a filthy kisser, lots of tongue and breaths and noises, and Kento wraps arms around his neck to get him closer.
He feels his Santa hat fall off as Fuma presses him harder into the fridge door, but he doesn’t mind, only cares about the man in his arms and how to get his dick inside him faster.
”Come on,” Kento urges as soon as the kiss breaks, and tugs Fuma along to the couch where there’s at least lube.
He tugs the bottle out of the coffee table drawer and Fuma raises an impressed eyebrow but doesn’t comment, only sits down and watches Kento pull his underwear down before straddling him.
”Damn,” Fuma mutters, but his hands go to Kento’s bare thighs like it’s magnetism, lips finding his neck and placing surprisingly chaste kisses.
”Damn,” Kento repeats in agreement as Fuma’s hands finally travel up and grasp his ass cheeks under the skirt, spreading them a little as a tease of what’s to come.
”I do like you in skirts,” Fuma presses into his skin after a kiss ending with light sucking, just enough to feel good but not violent enough to leave marks. ”They’re so convenient.”
”So make use of it,” Kento urges, and Fuma pulls away from his neck to meet his eyes. He smiles as he sees Kento’s expression, taking off his rings, and that’s somehow the hottest thing he’s done so far. Kento buries one hand in Fuma’s hair and tilts his head back to kiss him, and Fuma blindly shuffles with the lube until Kento feels a wet finger slip under his skirt.
He moans into the kiss as he finally feels that single finger start entering him, and he more or less helpfully pushes back against it.
”Wow, easy, easy,” Fuma urges, and the concern is nice but Kento still rolls his eyes.
”I’m not a virgin,” he complains, pointedly, because it’s barely a week since he last fucked a guy and he doesn’t need to go that slow.
”Oh trust me, I know you’re not,” Fuma says, just as pointedly, and Kento makes a frustrated noise and gives a tug to Fuma’s hair that he only seems to like. ”But now we do it my way. Let me enjoy this, jeez.”
Kento has a smart reply, but then Fuma’s finger gives a sharp, harsh jab and his head falls back on a sigh.
”Okay,” Kento agrees mindlessly, because it’s getting harder to think about anything else when there’s a second finger steadily joining the first.
”Good boy,” Fuma praises, and Kento would roll his eyes if he didn’t sound so amused. ”Very nice.”
”Give me a third and I’ll really show you nice,” he says, and Fuma smiles at him but doesn’t do as he’s told.
”My way,” he repeats, and Kento leans in to kiss him mostly out of frustration.
When Fuma finally pulls his fingers out and starts releasing his erection from the confines of his clothes, Kento’s entire body feels like it’s throbbing and his breathing is elevated to the point where he has to force himself to take a couple deep breaths.
”Feeling good?” Fuma asks, but he’s gasping as he rolls on the condom, and Kento smiles.
”Do you?” he teases, and Fuma’s hands grip his hips and pulls him forward, closer.
”Fuck yeah I do,” he says, then starts guiding his lubed erection to where Kento can’t fucking wait to have it.
They both moan as Fuma starts slipping inside, and Kento subconsciously notices that he’s bigger than the last guy he had. He likes that.
He feels his thighs aching as Fuma slowly pulls him down onto his cock, but he doesn’t care, this feels too good to care about that.
Kento groans and his forehead falls onto Fuma’s shoulder as he finally sits down on the entirety of Fuma’s erection, and Fuma presses a breathy, surprisingly sweet kiss to his neck.
”So good,” Fuma praises, mumbling nonsense about how good it feels as his fingers dig into Kento’s hips over the skirt.
Kento starts moving a little before he’s really adjusted, but he just can’t wait anymore, and Fuma’s responding moan as he carefully slides up and back down again is worth it.
It’s so good, and Kento’s pace picks up, exerting his thighs by pushing up slowly and slamming back down, and Fuma groans and whines into his neck, holding on to his hips but not guiding his pace.
The flimsy skirt fabric rubs against the head of Kento’s erection and he feels it grow wetter with precome. The little capelet shifts askew with his movements and the skirt flutters out of synch.
Fuma pulls back from his neck, leaning back more where he sits for a different angle and then starts pushing up, meeting Kento’s movements.
Kento cries out as that makes Fuma hit him just right, dead on where it feels incredible and he sees white flashes at the corners of his eyes.
Fuma’s watching him like he’s a mirage sent from the heavens, and he looks far gone himself, unstyled hair wispy with sweat at his temples, cheeks red and eyelids heavy.
A hand wraps around Kento’s erection suddenly and the rough moan that rips from his throat sounds broken, but it’s so good and Fuma quickly learns how to do it best.
Kento comes without a warning, falling down on Fuma’s cock and he feels his entire body tense as he spills against the inside of his skirt.
Fuma wraps an arm tight around his waist and pushes up once more, twice more, then moans into Kento’s neck, a fragile yet disturbingly hot sound that makes some kind of aftershock brush through Kento's body.
They both catch their breath for a moment, Fuma holding Kento close and breathing moist air onto his neck. Then Kento gets too uncomfortable, his thighs shaking and his insides oversensitive, and he starts disentangling himself from Fuma.
Come drips from the front of his skirt as he steps onto the floor, and he makes a face while Fuma laughs, voice a little hoarse.
”Hot,” he comments, and Kento looks up at him with a face that clearly says he doesn’t agree. It’s getting cold too and that’s not nice. ”You’re hot.”
”That might be true,” Kento agrees, and Fuma grins, reaching out to sit Kento down on the coffee table, which he figures is better than the couch considering he’s super sticky.
”It is,” Fuma tells him, reaching out to undo the knot of Kento’s capelet and lets it slip off. ”Now let’s get you out of that skirt.
”I thought you liked me in skirts,” Kento points out, but lets Fuma help him pull the dress off, leaving him naked save for the socks.
”I do. But I like you without them even better,” Fuma smiles, then leans in for a kiss, but pauses just before Kento’s face. ”But keep the thigh highs on.”
”Freak,” Kento calls him, but smiles as he accepts the kiss.
Maybe there’s room for more costumes in the future.