Archive of Our Own

“Welcome, everyone to the first meeting and table read for the project We’ll eat cake” said the manager at AR production company currently responsible for the new project Azumaya Junta, winner of the best actor award and the sexiest man in Japan, was cast as the male lead in.

“Let me introduce the actors cast as the main characters in our production,” she continued. “Ayagi Chihiro, playing Tsumori, Nakamura Yuri, playing Misaki and Azumaya Junta playing Akaashi. Thank you for coming!”

Huh? Who’s that Nakamura Yuri? Junta thought, checking his copy of the script again. He could have sworn he’d seen a completely different person cast as his partner. Did they change something without telling him? When did this happen exactly? He looked at Ayagi, who was currently sitting across from him, right next to that Nakamura girl, wearing his usual “just bored enough to look smug but not too arrogant” look. He did not seem to be surprised by the development. Was he in on this? Was this another “sleeping your way to the top” situation? Well, hopefully not for Ayagi himself, he kept promising that he’d cleaned up his act. Not that Junta cared particularly, but it was nice that one of his enemies had stopped sharpening his claws. It made him able to focus on his other targets and keep enough energy left over for his other daily tasks.

But coming back to that Yuri actress. Had he seen her before? Not that he could remember. He and Takato worked really hard to get to where they were and Junta would hate for their combined efforts to go to waste just because some money bags decided to push some inexperienced protege forward. He’d have to get to the bottom of this and keep an eye on her. He could not afford to be cast as the lead in a movie destined to flop.

Other than the initial reveal of a casting change (or whatever that was) the rest of the meeting was rather uneventful. The actors exchanged names and pleasantries, talked about their hopes for the role and shared some insights they deemed important to voice before rehearsals started. Producers waxed poetic about how good the script was and how talented the whole crew were, so they were definitely hoping for some big money in the box office. Junta couldn’t help but wonder at that unwavering belief in the movie’s success when they’d just announced a completely unknown actress as one of the leads. Oh, well. It’s their job, maybe this newbie is a natural, Junta was yet to see her in action. Besides, his and Takato’s brains combined, they were bound to find a way to work with whoever was thrown into their projects. At least he hoped that they’d be able to pull it off.

As the last of goodbyes were done with, Junta checked his phone. He still had a photoshoot to get to in the afternoon and he really needed to have a talk with his manager and maybe the president of his agency about what the hell was happening and why he was not informed. He was no longer the pizza boy they hired out of sheer desperation. He was the sole actor who’d been keeping the whole agency afloat and who paved the way for other talents in the agency to shine and support the foundation he’d built. At the risk of sounding overly arrogant, he knew his place and he thought that his current standing did not warrant keeping secrets from him or shoving him into risky projects without his consent.

So with that thought in mind and switching into his evil angel aura for that extra kick, he dialed the number.

“Hello! Taguchi-san, do you have a minute?”

“Ah, Azumaya-kun, I was just about to call you. How did the meeting go?” Taguchi sounded like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Was he in on this?

“Yeah, about that. At the meeting we were introduced to the cast and there was one unfamiliar face there. The female lead has been replaced. Have you heard anything about that?” Gods know Junta tried sounding polite and nonchalant so as not to scare Taguchi off and have him tell the whole truth.

“New female lead? Oh, that was quite unexpected, I was under the impression that the cast had been finalized and the names I sent you had already been approved of… Did they mention why this sudden change happened?”

So, either his manager was lying through his teeth or he’d also been blindsided. Curioser and curioser…

“Nope, everybody acted as if this had been the plan all along…” A voice on the other end interrupted Junta’s recollection with “Jun-chaaan! Is that you? Let me talk to my angel, Taguchi!” came the voice of the president of Junta’s agency. There was no mistaking him for anyone else, only he had absolutely no filter when it came to talking to Junta.

“Yes, president, that’s me. So what’s up with the casting change?” Junta ventured once again, still searching for answers.

“Oh, well, that…Please don’t be angry, my Jun-chan…”

Listening to the president coo over him yet again, saying nothing of substance, Junta turned his head to the left and realized that someone was standing a few meters away from him but definitely within earshot of his present conversation. That someone was his new co-star, Ayagi Chihiro. The sneaky bastard…

“Eavesdropping? Should I bring out the talking toy again?” Junta said, hanging up the phone. That talk would have to wait. It’s not like the president or his agent were particularly helpful anyway.

“Jeez, Azumaya, are you still on that? I’m a different person now, that thing isn’t going to work anymore.” Ayagi replied with a cheeky grin.

“Oh, really? So it’s okay if I send your multiple wealthy lovers some?”

“Why get so defensive? Saijou-san is nowhere in sight, I am just walking down a corridor, care to put your claws away maybe?”

“I wouldn’t get defensive if I hadn’t been ambushed by a weird casting change earlier and if you haven’t eavesdropped on a private conversation just now.”

“I was there for literally 3 seconds, all of which you were silent, I wouldn’t count that as eavesdropping. And what do you mean by “ambushed a casting change”?”

“You mean to tell me you were aware that Nakamura-san was to play the female lead?”

“Was she not? I was under the impression she’d always had the part, right from the start.”

“And how did you know that? I auditioned with someone else and heard her confirmed. It all doesn’t add up…”

“Well, Reiko-san is producing the project and given that Nakamura-chan is her daughter, I was not surprised. What, you didn’t know?”

“You must mistake me for someone else, Ayagi-kun. I don’t have the kind of relationships with producers that you have. So no, I was not aware, I participate in a different kind of pillow talk.”

“Ouch, rubbing your relationship with Saijou-san in my face again, as if the rings on your fingers don’t do that every single day. Anyway, I don’t care what you think of me, but your first impression is no longer valid. Yes, I used to be like that but I’m not anymore. And excuse me for staying on friendly terms with people who helped me get my career off the ground. More importantly, why do you care so much? Your job is to come in, shine on all of us with your heavenly talent and leave us, mere mortals, to our own devices. How is this project any different from the others?”

“I care because I’ve never seen that girl act and here I am stuck in this project that she may single-handedly bring to the ground. I did not work so hard to build my life only for it to be destroyed by some project filled with amateurs who used connections to get their parts.”

“Wow, harsh words. But you said yourself that you’ve never seen her act, so why do you assume she’s gonna destroy the whole thing?”

“Have you seen it?”

“No, but Reiko-san is also not a clueless girl, she’s a wealthy business woman who would never jeopardize her company just to help out some favorites.”

Before Junta could offer a reply to that, his phone rang again, the president no doubt wishing to continue their previous conversation.

“We’ll see then.” Ayagi heard as Junta was walking away.

The conversation with the president went the same as before, he didn’t know anything but had absolute faith in Reiko-san’s impeccable taste and judgment and how his “Jun-chan” had nothing to worry about. Well, there was nothing he could do at that point apart from throwing a bigger tantrum and quitting, which may prove even more of a fatal blow to his career than some incriminating photos or starring alongside an amateur.

So he resigned himself to working on a project that was filled with complications right off the bat and taking a couple calming breaths, checked his schedule again to go on to his next work.

Back at home, after a grueling working day that almost allowed him to forget the whole ordeal, Junta found himself immediately reassured by the sage advice that Saijou Takato seemed generous enough to offer whenever Junta needed it.

“Listen, I understand how you feel. I’ve been in these situations before. But I have to tell you that no matter what happened to me, I never doubted myself. I’ve always known that I’d give it my all and would be proud of the work I have done either way . You still have projects scheduled right after this and before the premiere. So if the worst comes to worst, you’ll be able to redeem yourself quickly.” Takato was clearly on a roll with his musings like he’s been coming up with these arguments all day ever since Junta texted him that morning. And who was he to interrupt such a reassuring tirade? “Which,” Takato continued, “I don’t think will happen. Being able to assess the movie’s potential failure and mark you as an actor who does cheap low quality flicks takes quite a lot of time and quite a few mistakes on your part…Which you are not going to make, I am sure of it.”

“Wow, Takato-san. Thank you. As always, I am very grateful for your advice. I am so happy you continue to take care of me.” Junta was beaming and he was not ashamed. To be so thoroughly reassured and praised by the one and only Saijou Takato, a veteran actor despite his young age and his very own mentor, idol and lover…was truly a dream come true.

Alright, he’d give the project his all, as per the plan. If not for the studio who pulls such things, the clueless managers and company he works for, then definitely for his career that his lover cares enough about to sacrifice his own and for his future with said lover.

***

In the morning it was time for mixed feelings again. Junta did his best to come into the office with all the determination he had in him to start rehearsals strong. He had Takato’s advice ringing in his ears and was ready to give pretty much anyone the benefit of the doubt. Until…

“Jun-chaaan. Big news. Pack up your things, location shooting in Hawaii is moved up, so the film will be doing that first. You’re leaving with the whole crew tomorrow. Sorry for the change of plans, but you know how it is. Lots of actors who have ever-changing schedules. If it were for me, I’d keep you here next to me for as long as possible but…Alas…” the casual attitude the president announced a huge change of plans like that packed a powerful punch to Junta’s determination there. So, first they change actors last minute, now they are telling him to be Hawaii-ready in a day? Not to mention the fact that he, apparently, has been learning his lines backwards and will need to learn huge chunks of the script for the Hawaii shooting.

If he were honest with himself, all of those last-minute changes were not the whole reason Junta reacted to this so strongly. He was by no means a diva, so he wouldn’t make a scene or complain much. But the fact was that he’d planned his whole working process for his upcoming project so meticulously for a reason. That reason being their planned romantic getaway with Takato. This time just them, no Ayagi, no Narumiya-kun and his ubiquitous friends, just them. And to think that Takato-san himself had to switch his own work around to free up those two weeks at the exact same time Junta would have been free. Now, courtesy of AR productions, the plan would have to be scrapped.

He tried to get through the rest of the meeting without giving too much of his frustration away but his boss seemed to have been attuned to his mood and quickly wrapped up the meeting without his usual long-winded rambling.

That freed up Junta’s afternoon which on any other day would have been a blessing but today only served to remind him of his speedy departure. He went home to get a head start on his packing before Takato arrived and he’d eventually have to tell him the bad news. Maybe this will go down better with a lovely meal and a nice jug of homemade sangria.

Takato arrived home past nine, exhausted, barely standing up, throwing his things haphazardly on the floor as he went looking for Junta.

“Chunta? You here? You won’t believe what happened today, that cheeky little bastard…” he trailed off, checking out the fancy spread in their living room on his right and two huge suitcases in the corridor to his left. Chunta was sitting on the couch, pouring out glasses of sangria and placing them next to their plates. “Erm…What’s going on?”

“Welcome home, Takato-san. I’d ask how your day was but you were already going to tell me that, so, please continue and sit down, the food is getting cold and this sangria should help you relax after your long day.” Chunta said, a beaming smile on his face was almost completely disarming but that weird suitcase setup was setting off alarming signals in the back of Takato’s brain, not letting him be swayed by the beautiful words…or dinner.

“Sure, sure. I’ll sit and drink. After you tell me what those suitcases are for. You going somewhere?” Takato asked, turning his head back and waving his arm in the direction of the corridor.

“Ah, that. If you sit down and have this meal with me, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I promise it’s nothing serious, just a change of plans.” Chunta reassured.

“Change of…?” Takato started but cut himself off, deciding it’s easier to go along with whatever Chunta was asking him rather than having a hangry hissy fit. “Alright, fine.”

With a little food soothing his frayed nerves and sangria warmly sloshing in his stomach, it seemed like Takato was ready for whatever news was going to be thrown at him.

“So the suitcases are for my trip to Hawaii next week…” Chunta started, making Takato almost spit out his sip of sangria in exasperation. “I’m really sorry, Takato-san, but the producers moved up the location shoot so we’re doing those scenes first and then coming back here to finish the whole thing. I know it means that our vacation is ruined and I’m really sorry but there was nothing I could do, I mean, I’m a little angry at my agent and director for keeping me in the dark about this but from the way they talked about it they seemed to have just found out about all this themselves and…” Junta rambled on, visibly nervous, scratching the back of his head with a guilty smile, but…

“You idiot angel! It’s just work, haha.” Takato let out a nervous laugh, which, to the untrained ear, might have sounded suspiciously like a witch’s cackle, but Junta learned it was really one reserved for when he didn’t know how to hide how relieved he was. Relieved? Why? Takato stood up, went around the table closer to where Junta was sitting, plopped down on the couch next to him and punched his shoulder. “I thought you were moving somewhere or leaving me or fleeing the country. I mean, what’s with the size of those suitcases? How long are you going for?”

“A month. And I needed two because they asked me to bring lots of formal wear and shoes, because we’ll do a lot of photoshoots there on top of clips for the DVD releases.” Chunta explained, putting his arms on Takato’s shoulders and rubbing them soothingly.

“And you’re shooting again right after you get back, no break in between?” Takato asked, before he could misinterpret or overthink something.

“Yes, they said that the changes in schedules are bad enough as they are, they set off some sort of domino effect of other actors being potentially double-booked, so, to avoid that we’d have to get as much work done as we can before more things go wrong. I’m really sorry, I do not understand what’s going on with this project anymore and why it’s impossible to plan everything beforehand. But I guess it’s our industry for you. Anything can happen.”

Takato sighed. He sure has heard of crazy projects and sets like these, he just lucked out usually with the directors he’d worked with and they never gave him a hard time like this. Or, maybe, he didn’t care about anything other than his job to get upset about any sudden changes. The tension in his shoulders loosened and he dropped his head, tired from his day and the rollercoaster of emotions he let himself ride before dinner. Chunta seemed to have picked up on that since he gently lifted Takato’s chin with his fingers and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Then, before Takato could even begin to protest, he lifted him up and carried him bridal style in the direction of the bathroom.

“Please don’t squirm, Takato-san, I don’t want to drop you. I just drew you a bath so let me help you relax after your long day.” Junta explained, smiling. “And, if you feel like soaking up something other than the warmth of the bath, I’ll be right out here, waiting for you, ” he added with a wink, that big-headed angel.

Someday, Takato will definitely take his ego down a peg or two but this time he decided not to give the man too much of a hard time, since there was a month of absolutely no Chunta around to “look forward to”. At that time, Takato didn’t think much of some time apart, sure it would be a little tough, but they were both adults, professionals, their lives were full enough on their own so it shouldn’t be too hard. Time will surely fly by, Takato thought to himself. Oh, he didn’t know how wrong he was that time.

***

1 week later

All the way over in Japan, across the ocean from Junta, Takato was doing something he would never ever tell anyone he kinda secretly enjoyed doing.

It had been a long day. The apartment was eerily quiet and way too empty for his liking. Not one to feel lonely ever, he found himself suffocated by the empty space and the quiet pushing at him, engulfing him every time he came home. So, to tune out that ringing sound in his ears that feels like you can practically hear your blood flow through your veins and the neurons firing, Takato decided to fall back on his old routine - a couple of beers and a movie.

Sure, he usually had only one instead of three. Damn Chunta for always stocking up, always eager to please and have a pick-me-up at the ready whenever Takato needed it in any form. That six pack in the fridge was calling to him every time he felt like boredom was catching up to him again.

Here he was, three beers in and only one measly piece of cheesecake to go with them, flipping idly through the channels in search of something that would catch his eye and keep him occupied preferably until he passed out. In a rapid succession of white flashes in a darkened room he suddenly spotted a face he’d been yearning to see for a whole week already. (Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, there’s not enough beer in the world for that. To crack like this just after a week apart, how pathetic.) And then, before he could push the button to call up the next channel, his own face came into view. The gears, whose speed of turning has been significantly slowed by alcohol, turned and revealed that what he stumbled upon was actually a re-run of their kinda maiden project (relationship-wise) the Mid-afternoon Star.

“Aaah, that takes me back.” Takato said to himself. One of his other routines to escape the quiet was talking to himself and various home appliances that would inspire some monolog directed at them. This time the TV seemed to be about to get an earful.

Can I say “It takes me back” if it’s only been around a year and a half? Takato thought. It felt like a lifetime ago, probably because there had been kind of a lifetime of decisions he’d had to make before he got where he was. What kind of actor he wanted to be alongside raw talent breathing down his neck and threatening to leave him behind, deciding to be with a man who frankly scared him with his love and yet was so irresistible and full of passion that Takato couldn’t help but want to drown in… A series of bad decisions he made while dealing with that photographer and the aftermath of it all and the play they got to do…His decision to drop the act and open himself up not just physically but also emotionally. Yeah, it’s been a while since they played together just as rivals.

On screen, there was one of the most intense scenes they had to do together at the time. Junta’s character had to do whatever it took to get Takato’s to agree to perform a surgery that had very low chances of success.

“I know I told him to go with his instincts, but how could I have known that the moron would decide to do his weird intense kabedon thing and scare me again?” Frankly speaking, the look on Chunta’s face was scary. There was passion, there was desire, there was his character’s determination as well. The camera didn’t see the exact look in his eyes, so he allowed himself to show Takato a little more than the character required. Or maybe that was his animal instinct as well. Either way, it took Takato a beat to collect himself and start keeping up. And the product was seriously impressive. Not one to toot his own horn much other than watching himself and reminiscing and seeing himself grow, sue him, Takato would have to give this one to them. It was a beautiful scene.

“Stupid fucking angel making me miss him more by showing his stupid face on my TV.” Takato mumbled angrily, throwing the nearest object on the table (thankfully, only a plastic fork he’d eaten the cheesecake with) at the offending TV.

He couldn’t help but sigh at his own stupidity. Even in his drunken state that was pretty childish. He leaned back against the back of the couch, resting his read on it and looking around. On his right, he caught a glimpse of his phone sitting on one of the cushions. The screen was dark, not flashing with texts or even notifications. It was pretty late in Japan. Which meant that Chunta was supposedly still in the middle of shooting. The schedule seemed rather brutal from what he’d heard - sometimes they’d shoot way into the night, finally calling it a day (huh) at around 1 a.m. Hopefully this isn’t going to be that late this time. Working actors to the bone like that will surely backfire sooner or later.

Takato picked up his phone to check if there were any texts just to be sure he didn’t miss anything and there was - obviously, nothing. Just the usual good morning text which Chunta sent him at his own supposed lunchtime (Takato was pretty sure he’d scheduled some of them to be sent, since he didn’t have a strictly allocated lunch hour and location shooting could get hectic at any point).

“Well, at this point I may as well go to bed, before I chuck something else at the TV” Takato mumbled into the emptiness of their living room, stumbling as he struggled to get up. He turned the blessedly undamaged TV off, circled the coffee table (accident-free as well, kudos to him) and, a couple steps down the corridor stood his goal - his favorite place in the whole apartment - the huge ass bathroom he practically ordered Junta to include on their list of apartment goals before he even considered looking at their options. He valued his me-time, thank you very much.

A soak in a state like his may have ended badly so he opted for a quick shower, which, surprisingly, didn’t do much against the haze in his head. Who ordered a flashback to that moment where Chunta all but examined him in the shower of his apartment after a weird non-one-night stand with Ayagi? Certainly not him, all that is stupid beer-soaked brain. Also, since when does that memory get him hot? He was scared shitless to even imagine what Ayagi might have done to him or what he might have done…And the guilt piercing every part of his body, freezing him in place and closing up his throat so he couldn’t speak, couldn’t let Chunta know how he truly felt to explain himself. No, what his brain remembered then was Chunta’s fiery stare, his strong arms holding Takato in place, his voice afterwards assuring him that nothing in fact had happened.

“Alright, time to get out before I do something stupid like touch myself to the memory of a creepy horny guy who was a hundred per cent sure he’d be able to tell if I cheated on him or not…” Takato snorted to himself.

Minutes later, cozy and comfy in their gorgeous new round bed, Takato pulled up his phone notifications one last time before going to sleep. Still no messages, but something was weird about the chat.

“What’s that picture?”

Takato tapped to maximize the new contact picture Chunta must have set for himself. It took Takato a beat to recognize it. It was his own creation, if he were perfectly honest. It was from the time when he had a mission to catch his partner at a time where he’d be at his ugliest. Sure, he was Japan’s number one angel, whose magazine pictures fed everyone’s fantasies for weeks on end. But Takato was set on finding the worst possible angle, lighting and facial expression the guy had to offer, save it for posterity and keep it to himself as proof that the angel was, in fact, human. Takato’s own lovesick view of him was clearly not to be trusted; sure he found even the sight of Junta drooling all over the pillow incredibly charming, clearly he was a little insane.

So, for a week he tried snapping pictures of Junta whenever he was doing anything that was considered unattractive. Count on the angel, though, to appear in all of those shots as flawless as he did under professional photoshoot conditions. Exasperated, Takato tried snapping some random shots of Junta doing the most mundane things he did, hence this picture. It was of Junta taking his sweater off. Takato expected to capture his disheveled hair, maybe eyes half-closed, a weird shape of his mouth, the undershirt half on and half off, making him look unkempt. Yeah, right. The guy was still drop-dead gorgeous, pulling off his sweater and undershirt together gracefully, showing off his immaculate abs, his head appearing from under the hem of the sweater with his hair as golden as ever and his eyes so warm and loving looking at Takato who was holding the camera. There was a soft smile on his face that could have fooled anyone that he’s the most charming, sweet, loving boyfriend on the planet. When in fact he was a scheming demon playing Takato like a violin. Not like he was against it or anything but the clash between the public image and reality was still annoying.

Sappy thoughts kept filling his head, threatening to spill into the silence of the bedroom far too cold and far too empty without a certain someone’s sunshine-like presence. Takato’s already half-asleep mind faintly registered his mouth saying something, probably about that stupid angel again, will he ever leave his thoughts, dammit? But he was too sleepy to care at that point, so he let himself drift off, phone slipping out of his feeble grip, landing on the sheets next to him.

Takato woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. His head was splitting into a million pieces and the light coming from the crack in the curtains seemed to slice his eyelids open just to burn them to a crisp. Gods, is this the punishment that comes after drinking a six pack of beer past the age of 30?

He fumbled around to locate the object making a horrible noise which turned out to be his phone. Who would be calling him at this hour? More importantly, what is this hour? Too afraid to face the light of the screen, he taps in the general vicinity of the “accept call” button hoping that’d be enough to stop that noise and find out who’s on the other end of it. He croaks out a feeble “what” and hears:

“Good mooorning, Takato-san! Did I wake you?” Junta’s voice boomed far too loud at the other end.

“Of course you woke me, did you not look at the time?” Takato lets out, indignantly.

“Haha, sorry, sorry. I just couldn’t wait any longer after that phone call yesterday. I'm so excited, I cannot believe you said that to me.”

Huh? Said what? The stupid angel never called last night, didn’t even text and has the audacity to call at ass crack of dawn and spout drivel?

“I did not call you yesterday. And what’s more important you didn’t call. Didn’t even text. Busy, busy angel.” Takato huffs out, trying to set the record straight.

“Oh, no, you did call. You don’t remember? I have this recording here, hit the button by accident, but aren’t we lucky I did? “

Takato could practically hear the leer on Chunta’s face. Just what is happening here? It’s too early for Chunta’s stalker shenanigans… then his drunken voice comes on…and definitely does not make anything better.

“Chuntaaaa. Why do you have to be so hot, you bastard. I lived 28 years, prfcetly content, not needing any sorta relationship. And here I am, drunk on a work night, string at your stupid contact picture. And I don’t even care that you didn’t call or text. What I care about is how m’ch I want to hug you right now. How much I want to kiss your cheeks, your eyes, your …s..smile. Stupid fucking angel, making me have all these…urges…ugh…I even touch myself in the shower now. How pathetic. Just one memory and I can’t keep myself from having an imme…imm..shit, I’m hard again, I’m so drunk, haha. Good thing you didn’t call, you’ll never know about this, if you did, I’d die of embarrassment…a..mm.nhn…”

And then there was snoring. Like it wasn’t bad enough before. Like he didn’t call Chunta by accident instead of tapping the profile pic to enlarge it. Like he didn’t spout the most embarrassing and shameful things that he’d never even be caught dead thinking, not to mention actually saying. Chunta will never let him live this down, he’s gonna make fun of him for all eternity, he’ll be the laughing stock for ages. No, he is no longer an equal partner in this relationship, he’s a hopeless, useless mess unable to control his emotions. He must have overwhelmed Chunta with all that crap. He needs to fix this and fix it fast.

“Uum. Yeah, so I was drunk. Just forget what I said, I obviously didn’t mean it, hahaha. Think of it as a prank, you believed all this? I was just joking with you, thanks for calling, have a nice day, bye…” Takato stuttered out and was about to hit “end call” when Chunta stopped him.

“Wait! Takato-san. Do you, by any chance, think I’m angry with you or something? Cause I did say I was excited and couldn’t wait to talk to you. I was so happy to hear you being so honest with me that I almost booked a ticket to Japan just to hug you for a few moments. So, please don’t be self-conscious, remember our promise? We’ll talk about our feelings and trust each other, right?

As it happened countless times before that, Takato was at a loss for words. Whenever Junta went all soft and serious on him, it always left Takato speechless. Gone is the perverted stalker, and a young and silly 20-something is nowhere to be found as well. There’s just his Chunta, who sees through his bullshit like he has a degree in Takato studies, knowing exactly what to say to leave him totally disarmed and a gooey mess.

All he could do now is sigh and say:

“Ugh, yeah. It was really embarrassing, sorry. I’ll try not to get drunk like that. I’m not taking my words back, but I should’ve just told you how much I missed you. I just…It’s still new..this..this saying things out loud stuff.” He trailed off, already exhausted from feeling so many things before coffee.

“It’s totally fine. But try not to overdo it during the week, I’m worried about your health. And…Since you’re not taking your words back and..Wait, I’m not finished. And I am not letting you..l have an idea how to help the both of us miss each other less.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Takato asked, skeptically.

“Your words towards the end of your call were…so…sexy” Junta lowered his voice a little, so that no one would hear him. “It got me thinking that I want to hear more. So, how about phone sex? And then video chat sex. But we’ll start slow, ease into it, since we’ve never done that before. Takato-san? Hello? Are you there? What’s that noise? Hey, are you alright? Takato-san? Takato-saaan?”

And the line cut off right there. The reason was Takato’s phone being flung so hard across the room, it landed just shy of the door frame, screen down on the floor. Face flushed so red he was afraid he’d get actual burns from how hot his skin had gotten, Takato buried himself deep under the blankets to hide his absolute mortification at the talk he just had. It was official. The angel has lost his mind. Off the rails. Totally bonkers. Non-recoverable. To even think Saijou Takato would be engaged in such absolute filth…The bustard should think again and remember who he’s talking to before suggesting something like that. Hell would freeze over before Takato would even begin to consider this idea. This measly month apart would not, absolutely not turn him into a depraved creature tugging his member to the sound of a voice over a phone line, thank you very much. He’s way above that, he’s patient. He went 28 years without concerning himself with such bullshit, he can wait the rest of the days Chunta will be away. He’ll be totally fine. Time will fly by.

****

Time did not absolutely fly by. It trickled with the speed of the first drop of rain sliding down a dusty glass of a window.

The next week felt to Takato like he kept repeatedly, knowingly shooting himself in the foot. Nothing seemed to go his way no matter how hard he tried to stay out of trouble. It all started with his phone screen totally smashed on the fateful day of that phone call. Totally Chunta’s fault, if Takato were to be believed. Naturally, with the screen trashed, he couldn’t contact anyone and couldn’t do his work properly. He had to get to the studio himself, since he had no way of contacting Sasaki-san (also no desire to explain the situation. He’d have to do it eventually, sure, but he still felt ashamed of his childish, over-the-top behavior, so sue him for procrastinating a bit in telling the story.). Thankfully, the taxi took him where he needed to go in due time. He paid in cash and hastily exited the car to rush into the studio and get on with his day. The faster he would start with his work, the sooner he’d forget all about that morning. It all did not happen. He didn’t get wasted on a six pack of beer. He didn’t almost smash his TV. He didn’t drunk dial Chunta on the other side of the world to offer up his squishiest innermost feelings. And he absolutely did not smash his phone after the mere suggestion of having a little R-rated conversation with his long term lover and partner with whom he’d exchanged promise rings with. That whole ordeal was frankly ridiculous and was totally not Takato’s style. So, he decided to deny it ever took place and move on with his life.

Sasaki-san, however, was reluctant to let Takato get his way this time, badgering him with questions as to just how the most elegant and sophisticated man he’d ever known came to utterly destroy an expensive item in his possession by being clumsy.

“This is so not like you, Takato-kun, are you sure that’s all there is to it? You were getting out of a taxi, the phone was in your lap and it fell onto the floor face down so here we are? I mean, this is totally out of character, are you feeling okay? Should I move some things around and give you a day off?” he suggested, with visible concern on his face and a crease forming between his eyebrows. Working with Takato, apparently, was starting to age him and that was yet another unacceptable thing Takato refused to allow.

A day off? Oh no, oh nonononono, I don’t need a day off, I need the opposite of a day off, I need a day very much on, I need to work so hard, I’d see nothing but darkness behind my eyelids at night, I don’t need blond angels infesting my thoughts!

“Not at all, Sasaki-san, I assure you I am fine and am fully capable of going about my usual workload without any accidents, I just stopped paying attention for one second, no need to worry. Please just buy me a new one or at least take me to the store where I can get one. Preferably somewhere where they can also make sure to transfer all the data from here onto the new one. I can’t even imagine how I’d get all my contacts back otherwise.” Takato said, trying to sound as calm and casual as possible. His manager already seemed to be onto him, he could not afford to let any of his panic show.

“Sure, okay. But you do remember the day’s packed today and I need to be there as well? I’ll be talking to producers in meetings all afternoon, then help out at the photoshoot, so again, they need both of us, so the earliest we’ll be able to do this is tomorrow. Do you, maybe, have your old one at home that you can use temporarily?”

“No, I think I traded it in or something. Or left it at my old place, I don’t really remember, the move was such a blur with all the projects I had at the time…” Takato answered, suddenly feeling timid at his lack of care for his things.

“Alright, okay. So let’s stick together for today then and I’ll take you to my place for the night, so we don’t lose each other. I can give you my old one to tide you over until we’re done, I think we can go tomorrow at lunch, we have a slightly bigger window there than usual” Sasaki muttered, looking over the calendar. “Are you sure you’re alright? Need me to contact anyone, let them know you don’t have your phone?” he then asked, in a suddenly softer and friendlier tone, like he switched to “Takato’s friend Takumi” - mode. “Does Azumaya-kun know about this? Won’t he be worried? I’ll text him. What time is it in Hawaii again?” he continued, opening his world clock app to check if it'd be a good time to text.

“No! Don’t. He’ll be fine, it’s the middle of the night right now and then he’ll be shooting all day, so he won’t even notice I haven’t texted him until I’ve already got my phone back. Why worry him unnecessarily?”

“Alright, whatever you say, Takato-kun. Well, since we have a plan now, shall we go? The meeting is about to start.” Sasaki said, gently taking Takato by the elbow, signaling they have to start moving soon. Takato complied, relieved the conversation seemed to be over and no Chunta was disturbed in the process and no embarrassing secrets were revealed. Work would be a great distraction, the best, if you asked him.

Work, however, must have had a different opinion, since the rest of the day kept going downhill with every new task. Scheduling conflict here, absent photographer there (seriously, who doesn’t show up for their own shoot?), traffic jam-ruined lunch meeting as a bonus and the cherry on top of it all is, like Sasaki-san had promised, zero time to fix his phone or get a new one. Dinner at Sasaki’s was, at least, a blessedly uneventful affair, with his wife and child being pleasant company, as always, alleviating any worries that may have been plaguing Takato’s mind. It was a truly healing experience.

The next day started with an unexpected phone call from a company that urgently, yes, right now and not a minute sooner, needed to discuss their new play with Takato. Apparently they snagged a notoriously stubborn director who could change his mind any minute of any day and he suddenly demanded that Takato be the main lead in the middle of the night. Turns out, the studio did possess some common decency given the fact that they waited until morning. And sure, Takato could totally say no if only he hadn’t made yet another petty promise to himself to beat that old bastard who’d snatched his Best Actor award the year Chunta had won it. That same stubborn obnoxious director had all the chances of actually getting Takato into something that would be worthy of another award and if he were to get it, place him much higher in all possible ratings than that old geezer.

“Just watch me, grandma. I’m about to kick some old ass…” Takato thought and then added “Sorry for the language, gran. But I hope you’re proud.”

Naturally, a fight broke out over the late breakfast meeting when the waiter allegedly mixed up the director’s order, with production company representatives on both sides desperately trying to salvage the situation and get the conversation back on track.

With all that and the usual daily tasks, the earliest they made it to the phone store was late that evening. Sasaki-san insisted that Takato be there with him, just in case he needed something else done to his new phone and to check that all the data was, in fact, successfully transferred.

The sales guy was generally pleasant albeit a little aloof, like he couldn’t care less about Takato’s status, his problems or his requests. But if that attitude got the job done, Takato had zero problem with that. Several minutes later, he seemed to have gotten everything to start transferring to the new phone as he explained the iCloud settings and monotonously recited general file management advice.

With his head buzzing full of seemingly unnecessary information, his phone full of very necessary data and his manager with a grin full of a sense of accomplishment, Takato exited the store. Once he unlocked the phone and opened his messaging app, his thumb hovered over Junta’s information. Will he get the texts and calls he’d missed while his phone was broken? Why did the messages history stop at that morning phone call? Surely Chunta must have been trying to contact him this whole time. But he didn’t call Sasaki-san, so that must mean he either wasn’t worried or had some other sources that told him about the situation.

“Um..Sasaki-san? The guy said he transferred all the data, but I seem to have no messages…”

“What do you mean? This is your chat with Azumaya-kun. Is there something wrong with it?”

“Well, it doesn’t have any messages since two days ago…”

“Hm..maybe it's the app’s problem, try texting me.”

“Done.”

“Well, I got it. Let me reply. Oh, see? It’s delivered. Everything seems to be working well. So, no need to worry.”

“Did you end up texting him to tell him about my phone?”

“No, you told me not to and then I thought you’d found a way to contact him…Didn’t you?”

“No, I was just as busy as you are. I don’t even have his number memorized so it would be useless to try and do it with another phone anyway…”

“So now your concern is that he hasn’t contacted you all this time?”

Silence. He must have hit the bullseye to shut Takato up like that. After years of knowing and working with the guy, Sasaki was an expert in reading his expressions and predicting his moves. When it came to personal matters, Takato only came to him when things turned dire and even then spoke in riddles and convoluted metaphors, apparently thinking all that wouldn’t give away his true feelings. By the looks of it, Takato was definitely upset at the situation. There must have been something else Takumi wasn’t in on and he wasn’t going to pry. But he did feel a little concerned for his friend.

“Why don’t you text or call him now? If he’s busy he’ll just contact you later, it’s not like you’re constantly bothering him” he tried, reassuringly.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll text him.”

As they got into the car, the conversation seemed to have been over and Takato kept his promise to compose a text explaining it all to Junta. He was still staring at his phone when they arrived at his place but Takumi wasn’t inclined to ask for more details.

He’ll come to me when he needs me. Takumi thought, wishing Takato good night and getting ready to pull out of the parking lot.

***

Chunta is mad. He’s angry or hurt or something else, because why would he go three days without a single call or text and then ignore Takato’s messages for two more?

Okay, the stupid angel can be mad, I overreacted a bit. But why doesn’t he at least let me explain myself or apologize? Not that I’m actually going to but it would be nice to have a chance. Is he even alright? What’s happening to that project of his?

Takato’s mind raced a million thoughts a minute as he was sitting in the back seat of his manager’s car getting ready to start his own day of work. It was roughly lunchtime in Hawaii now, which meant Takato could technically text or call Junta and the latter should be able to answer. He tried shooting a quick “How are you?” to test the waters but by the time they arrived at the office for their first meeting of the day, there was no reply. The message wasn’t read either.

As the day drew on, Takato felt like he needed more and more canned coffee to not snap and sock the famous director sitting across from him in the face. Not only did he make a huge fuss about getting Takato to join his play but now he also seemed to be having a hard time agreeing on the dates of rehearsals, and, apparently, the rest of the cast. Nobody seemed to fit his standard for Takato’s co-star and no date seemed to work with his super busy schedule. All that and the urge to check his phone every five seconds was making Takato feel unprofessional and he never, ever wanted to feel or act like that. Yet from time to time his gaze would flick to the right, where his phone was sitting, screen black and lifeless no matter how hard Takato tried to poke a hole in it with his stare.

By the time all the urgent matters were agreed upon, it was way past lunchtime and it took Sasaki great effort to get him and Takato out of a joint business lunch the director almost set his mind to. Luckily, they were able to make a quick escape and find themselves a couple minutes of silence before their next appointment.

No reply arrived in the evening either. By the time Takato got home around 9 p.m. it was no use trying to call Junta since it was way past any sort of healthy bedtime and however petty Takato may have been, he wasn’t clingy enough to call his boyfriend in the middle of the night. Instead, he decided to think about how he’d come clean about what had been going on with him and how much he would have to explain for Chunta to forgive him and let this go.

With the hours trickling by with Takato unable to fall asleep with his brain still operating at 100 percent efficiency, he inevitably grew a little more honest with himself. He missed Chunta. It’s been days since any sort of contact, hectic days, idiotic days, and the last time they spoke he hung up on the guy. When said guy was trying to help them miss each other less. Good job, Takato. Make one step forward and a thousand ones backwards. Why couldn’t he just have reacted with his normal verbal abuse, why did he have to hang up? If they’d kept talking, Chunta had all the chances of swaying Takato’s opinion any way he wanted and none of this would have happened. Takato would’ve offered his usual pride-saving resistance and Chunta would’ve still gotten his way anyway. Well, there was no point in regretting it now. He absolutely had to get a hold of Chunta as soon as possible or he wouldn’t be able to function properly anymore. He was already more on edge than usual, testy, Sasaki-san’d had the courage to describe him. To his face. So if even his manager and friend was calling him weird things, then it must have been showing pretty badly. I really need to get a grip. Takato thought.

***
The next day he tried a different approach. He had Sasaki-san call the people he knew from the crew to ask how the shooting was getting on. That would help decide whether Junta’d been ignoring him on purpose or he was just that busy.

The crew member Sasaki could finally reach out to sounded half-dead over the phone, complaining non-stop about the brutal schedule they were on, dozens of retakes they had to do for this reason or that, the weather conditions that kept interfering with the process, blah,blah. All Takato was actually interested in was what was up with Junta and the guy didn’t really have much to say about it except the usual: “everyone’s busy, working themselves to the bone”. So, Takato decided to hell with it and started calling his lover’s number every two hours.

After he finished his dinner routine of a few (yeah, the number was still higher than usual, but he just had to dial down the worry somehow) beers and a couple silly TV shows, he decided to try calling again. Each time the line cut off after too many tones, Takato grew more and more worried. Weren’t they even allowed to take breaks? What the hell kind of set was that? What country’s laws would allow for such crazy schedules? Or was Chunta mad after all? He had to keep calling to find out, he figured.

The last attempt he decided to make was at around 9 o’clock. He was in their bed, relaxing, with the lights dimmed to create a comfortable and relaxing atmosphere. The beers sloshing in his stomach made him decidedly bolder. He took off the robe he’d been wearing since it was getting kinda hot with the heat turned up and the alcohol in his system. He picked up his phone again and hesitated. It would be waay too late, beyond the time for friendly phone calls, but he was getting desperate there, dammit, he had to at least hear Junta’s voice, to confirm that he was, in fact, alive and he didn’t really hallucinate their whole relationship. Surprisingly, after a few tones, there was a rustling sound and then, finally, Junta picked up.

“Hello?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Takato let out a hefty exhale to not give away his nerves and to give himself a second to think. He didn’t expect Junta to actually pick up at such a late time.

“H-hey! Chunta? Sorry I called you so late, you just weren’t answering my texts and you didn’t pick up the whole 10 times I called you before…”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Takato-san. Shooting’s been crazy.” That seemed to be all Junta was ready to share and it was getting on Takato’s nerves. He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to ask if Junta had really been mad at him, wanted to say how sorry he was for ending their previous call like that and going off the grid. He felt like something inside him was curling into a tight knot, somewhere around his heart, making him want to share something he wouldn't normally want to share. He wanted to say how worried he was, how anxious to hear Junta’s voice he’d been all these days. How he’d spent his evenings acting like a lovesick teenager. Then, before he could begin to articulate the mess of his thoughts, it was Junta who broke the silence again. “Takato-san…” Junta whispered, voice low, barely audible over the line. He sounded exhausted, barely hanging on to the last remnants of consciousness and yet he went on “I miss you…” the deep exhale punctuating that last word.. Finally one of them said it. Articulated that raw feeling that has been eating them both up the past week. The one that got Takato to up his evening beer game just to fall asleep faster and not remember how lonely his evenings have been, to act all nervous and frustrated to the point of people at work noticing something had been going on with him. The one that drove Junta to work himself to complete mindless exhaustion where he could not even form a thought long enough to start yearning.

Takato wasn’t the one to say it first but he was thankful it was out in the open regardless. It filled him with a strange sort of bravery, a willingness to be vulnerable. Almost as if he owed it to Junta for his honesty. He owed it to him to open up in return.

“Ch..Chunta…I miss you too. I’ve been…It’s lo…quiet here without you. I’m so sorry I hung up like that last time we spoke. And then my phone broke and I couldn’t contact you and when I did you wouldn’t pick up so I was worried…” Takato sighed. Still couldn’t quite say those words. Couldn’t sound that pathetic. He’ll get there as the night progresses, provided neither of them fall asleep first.

“I know, I’m sorry too, sorry I didn’t call you or text you back. I just…I can’t…think about you being so far away when this was supposed to be us together here in just a couple weeks. I want to touch you so badly…” Chunta continued.

He could have said “hug”, he could have said “kiss”. There could have been any number of ways he could’ve articulated that thought. But he chose the word touch and it sent Takato’s mind reeling. It almost seemed like his rational thought had been hanging by a thread there just to snap at this one word that could’ve meant literally anything else but this. And yet the beer from dinner, Chunta’s soft voice and vulnerable whispers proved to be Takato’s undoing. Who would’ve thought that it wasn’t just Chunta’s huge hands or his towering presence or his angel stalker aura…He could just as easily make Takato feel hot all over with that one word.

“I want…I want you to touch me too. Chunta…” Takato said, almost despite himself. He couldn’t believe he was saying this but by the time he did, it was too late. Besides, what did he have to lose? How more embarrassing can this possibly get? He was a pathetic pining mess in their apartment every single damn evening, chugging beer and sappily chewing on whatever cake he could get his hands on. Oh and don’t even mention his accidental rewatches of all the projects he and Junta did together. No, he definitely no longer had any dignity to lose. What is dignity anyway? He was talking to his Chunta, the man who showed him what it meant to be truly loved. That they could lift each other up and just as easily wreck each other almost beyond repair. They stumbled, they made mistakes, they were cruel to each other and they learned their own limits. So there was no place for dignity in moments like these. It was just the two of them, sharing a moment, giving each other what they desperately needed.

“Oh? You want me to touch you? I would love to be able to take your hand, to brush my fingers against yours, to intertwine them. To kiss every knuckle, to feel every vein and texture on your hands. I’d like to kiss your wrists, they are so graceful, I admire them all the time, be it in dance or on stage or just holding a cup of coffee I’d made you. Tell me, Takato-san…where do you want me to touch you next?“

Junta heard Takato’s breath hitch. He’d been dead silent the whole time…What actually happened that he was completely transfixed by the picture that Junta’ words painted, he yearned for that touch to be real, so with his next breath he said:

“I want you to cup my cheek, slowly trace the line of my jaw with your fingers…then you could go down a bit…to my neck.. and do the same with your mouth…your lips” he trailed off, having run out of breath and suddenly feeling a rush of heat coming up to his face…and not his face.

On the other end of the line Junta’s brain was slowly coming back online from its sleepy state and realizing what was really happening. Saijou Takato, the ice king of Japanese cinema, the notoriously unapproachable and mysterious actor was almost talking…dirty to him? The same Takato who aggressively hung up on him at the mere suggestion of doing something like this? If this was finally happening after all these days since that suspicious phone call, Junta would have to step up as well.

“Ahh, Takato-san. Your skin would feel soo good under my lips and my fingertips. It would feel so hot and soft, I’d want to touch you everywhere. Would you let me take off your shirt and trace the lines of your torso with my mouth?”

“‘m not wearing a shirt…” came a sudden reply that made Junta almost combust on the spot. Junta wasn’t the only one about to combust. I can’t fucking believe this.

“Oh? And what are you wearing?”

“Just my briefs…It was hot, so…”

Chunta’s breath hitched at the naive sincerity in Takato’s voice.

“Ok, ok…Then I would trace the lines of your torso with my mouth and as I reach the waistband of your briefs, I’d definitely want to touch you there too. Can you put them down, but not all the way? Then I want you to wrap your fingers around your dick, I want you to imagine it's me touching you.”

There was a beat of silence at that. Chunta was ready for Takato to kill the call and hide under his blanket but then there was a telltale breath that shuddered across the line. It’s really happening.

“How does it feel?” Junta finally dared to ask.

“Feels like…With your voice it feels like it’s you.” Takato’s voice was so silent, barely a whisper but it roared in Junta’s ears so loud it canceled out everything else. He was suddenly immensely grateful for this moment, for the stupid production company that screwed with his plans multiple times, that was working him to the bone, that put an ocean between him and the person he loved the most. All to experience this unprecedented moment of raw vulnerability, of walls crumbling down between them, exposing something even more beautiful than they had before. So he said:

“If it feels like me…Do you want me to tell you what to do? Will you touch yourself the way I tell you to, Takato-san?”

“Yes. Please, Chunta.”

Take a breath, Junta, you can do this. The little begging undertones of Takato’s voice almost did Junta in right there and then. The realization that Takato needed this as much as he did and was so open about it was almost more than he could bear.

“Okay, I want you to stroke yourself. Slowly at first. Grip your cock firmly like I do when we are together and move your hand up and down. Twist your wrist from time to time and stroke the tip with your thumb.”

“Ngh..” came from the other end, signaling Takato was following everything Junta was telling him. Junta was desperately drinking in any sound that Takato was making and that was registered by the microphone and carried over the thousands of kilometers between them. There were soft, short inhales, there were lustful barely whispered sighs. There were hitched breaths and a couple hisses when Takato seemed to have touched particularly sensitive spots or made an especially nice stroke. At some point Junta started feeling guilty for just laying there listening and not doing anything so he decided to whisper sweet nothings to try and get his lover even hotter.

“You’re doing great, Takato-san. Keep going. I love hearing you. You are doing so well, following what I tell you to do. Will you do as I ask now?”

“Ahhh, yes, Ch…Chunta…yes..” came a whisper that with anyone else could have sounded like a plea.

“Are you in our bedroom? Can you reach the night stand on my side?”

“Yes, yes I can, wait.”

There was some shuffling, he must have had some trouble moving on the bed with his pants halfway down but he seemed to have managed when he said:

“What should I do next?”

It was a pretty innocent question on the surface but it meant he was playing along and it was doing things to Junta he could never have imagined it would do.

“There are some…supplies in the second drawer I want you to use.”

Careful, don’t scare him off, Junta thought.

As Takato grabbed the handle of the drawer, he already had a pretty good idea of what he’d find there. But in that moment, with Junta being vague about what exactly he wanted him to do, Takato felt a sense of freedom. He was free to choose what to do there and yet he was still giving up control to Junta, like so many times before. His lover always took the lead, very often not even asking how Takato felt about it. Yet this time it felt a little different. With them so far apart, Takato could do whatever he wanted, stop or continue whenever he pleased, while Chunta was still the one controlling the situation, helping him along before he could even begin to feel flustered in such new territory. Surely enough, he spotted the lube and condoms the minute he pulled the drawer out a little.

Junta must have heard the drawer getting opened and asked:

“Have you showered? I want you to finger yourself.” he said, with an unmistakable hitch in his breath that should not have made Takato feel so much pride, but well… He was way past having any control of his feelings. “You can use the condoms if you’re uncomfortable…” Junta added, hesitantly.

“You don’t use any when you do it to me…And yes, I showered.”

“Okay, so…Let’s get you back into the mood. Lay back on the pillows and put another one under your lower back, it should be more comfortable”

Horny angel is suddenly the gentle and caring angel, interesting. Is this what happens when I freely give him what he wants? Takato thought.

“I’m on my back.” he announced as a subtle hint for Junta to continue.

“Start by slowly stroking yourself and when you feel like it, slick up two fingers and circle them gently around your rim.” Junta’s voice was getting lower and lower as he got through that sentence. It felt like one wrong word and Takato may just run for the hills again.

By that time Takato felt like he was cramping, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder, so he put it on speaker at low volume and placed the phone next to his head. As he got back into what he’d been doing before that he felt himself relax, and all his thoughts quickly became concentrated on the pleasure his hand was giving him. It was thrilling to realize the fact that this hand had been under Junta’s control and was carrying out his instructions.

With each stroke Takato felt like all the tension had been seeping out of him and he was feeling more and more with each stroke. At some point the sensations heightened so much that he let out a very uncharacteristic moan that immediately traveled along the waves to reach Junta, making him gasp into the microphone. That stirred Takato even more and he decided it was time to try touching himself in the back. It was incredibly embarrassing and he was afraid if he’d seen exactly how red he’d gotten in the process, he’d never want to do anything like this again, so he pushed that thought away and tried to concentrate on his feelings, on the thought that he was finally intimate with Junta, albeit over the phone and across a vast distance.

Takato lubed up his fingers as instructed, exhaled to relax himself even more and finally got himself to touch where Junta’d wanted him. He tried to get his mind off of the possible discomfort by circling his length with his left hand and stroking it rapidly. The wet squelching sound must have reached Junta over the phone, because he seemed to have stirred and asked:

“How does it feel? Tell me…” he practically sighed into the phone.

“Ahhh, feels….good. My fingers are warm now, just like yours every time you touch me there. Hnnn. Can I…Can I do it on my knees? I can’t stroke myself and put the fingers in, in this position” he didn’t mean it to sound like he was asking for permission, as if it were some master/slave play. But it did sound like that, because it seemed for a second that Junta’s brain finally short-circuited and he lost his ability to speak for a second.

Soon, he recovered with a:

“Yes, I really like it when you’re on all fours with your ass up in the air, just for me. I want to feel up your cheeks so much now. I want to kiss them so badly. But I like the image of you reaching behind yourself and putting a finger in. So, please, show me, tell me how you are doing it.”

Takato stood on all fours, placing the phone just under his head and resumed his ministrations. Yes, it was definitely more comfortable, even if a little more embarrassing that way.

“Okay…I’m on my hands and knees. My left hand is on my…” Come on, Takato, you can do this, just say it. “...member…” Okay, not the sexiest word out there, but it’s something. It’s his first time, after all. “I’m reaching behind myself with my right hand and I’m…hnnngh…” he trailed off, getting decidedly overheated at the words he was about to say, feeling like he needed to touch himself more than articulate what he was doing.

“Okay, okay, you’re doing great. I can just ask you some questions now and you just listen to my voice and do whatever feels good, alright? If you want to tell me something, tell me. If you can’t - all I need to know is that you’re having a good time, that’s enough for me.” Junta said and his voice once again sent a jolt of pleasure down Takato’s spine. By that time he was already a knuckle deep in himself but for some reason it didn’t feel as arousing as it’d felt with Junta. He tried going a little deeper, releasing a huff in the hopes to let Junta know he was doing what he was told but again, it just felt like finger up his ass. Were Junta’s fingers magic or something? Did he possess some angelic power to bring pleasure to mere mortals like him? After a couple more attempts he tried getting a second finger in, reckoning that maybe it was all about the stretch, not depth. It did not have the desired effect, though, because all the second finger brought him was a burning feeling that did not by any means feel good. He felt momentarily mortified, because Junta was expecting him to make himself feel good, wanted him to describe how his words made him feel this way and that and yet here Takato was, chafing at two fingers. Eventually, he had to come clean about it.

“Eeerm. Chunta? I put in two fingers but I’m not feeling too good. Am I doing something wrong?”

Junta was startled at the sudden change of mood feeling a pang of concern at these words but he was determined to help out any way he could, their first time at phone sex could not end like this, he couldn’t leave his love feeling unsatisfied or worse, hurt.

“Alright, Takato-san, let’s pause here a bit. You are doing nothing wrong, just relax and trust me.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Let’s go back to just one finger. Put some more lube on. Done? Now, put your index finger in, slowly. Take a couple breaths and try to move it in and out. How does it feel?”

“Hnn, okay, but nothing like when you do it…”

Is he doing this on purpose or is he that clueless? Junta thought.

“Try going deeper, but don’t go too fast. As you go deeper, try to find your prostate, just move the pad of your finger along the…” but before he could finish speaking an uncharacteristically loud moan reached his ears, successfully tearing him out of “instructor” mode and slamming him back into the world of “painfully aroused”. “Huh, I guess that’s it. Does it feel good now?”

“So, sooo good, Chunta…Ahhh.” Junta heard him speed up a little, judging by the hitched breaths and increasingly louder moans. It was time for him to take care of himself as well, as even his seemingly loose pajama pants were already giving him a hard time.

“Yeah, Takato-san, keep going, keep pleasuring yourself for me. Stroke your cock like I do when I want to bring you closer to the edge. I want to feel you so badly right now. The sounds you make are driving me crazy. I can't help but touch myself. ”

The thought of Junta touching himself and getting off on just Takato’s moans alone crashed like a wave against Takato’s mind, overwhelming all of his senses and melding them into just one - pure lust and desire for more. More pleasure, more of Junta’s voice, he needed to feel his touch, the warmth of his hands caressing his back, slapping his cheeks, spreading them to drive into him deeper and enjoy the view in the process. From then on he just couldn’t stop the flood of memories that came over him: they lewd sounds of his ass slapping against Junta’s thighs that would normally be enough to send him on a spiral and which now only served to push Takato closer to the edge. He remembered what it was like to feel Junta’s hot breaths against his neck as he bent down to place gentle kisses all over his back between thrusts. It felt like Junta was everywhere at that time, his presence, his warmth was overwhelming, making Takato feel like he was burning up all over, like he didn’t want this to end, like he didn’t want his mind to come down from this ecstatic high, because he knew that he’d come to feel ashamed of his behavior afterwards. He hoped this time the shame wouldn't come, because it was his choice to feel this pleasure, his choice to give up control, his choice to enjoy every last sound, every last hitched breath that could reach him across the phone.

“Huuuuh, Chunta…Feels so good. Want you…want you here….with me…” Takato whispered, his breaths coming out faster, shorter and wetter over the line. It felt like he was seconds away from release so he said “Ch..Chunta…I’m close…”

“Yes….Yes..” Junta breathed on the other end of the line, wet noises of his hand moving rapidly along his shaft getting registered by the mic on Takato’s phone. “Come for me…I want you to come…Mi…Mi Tesoro” he whispered again, low, barely audible but it somehow seemed to have reached Takato as if it sounded right in his head, as if it was the way it should have been, Junta’s voice in his head, pushing him over the edge.

As Takato realized what he’d just heard, the endearment engraved on their promise rings and whispered to each other only once before, sleepy on that airplane flying back home from Spain, it felt like a string that had kept being slowly and gradually pulled taut just snapped in one second, with his orgasm bringing an incredible feeling of calm with itself and sucking out all the tension he’d been feeling, erasing all those weeks apart and building him up anew.

He fell into his own mess, limbs shaking, unable to keep himself on his hands and knees for the first time in his life and Takato simply couldn’t care less. As his ears registered sounds coming from the phone, he came back to his senses enough to want to help Junta along as well.

“Chunta, I…I miss you so much. It felt so good hearing your voice, doing what you wanted me to do. I felt so…sexy, being with you like this. I cannot wait until you come back here and we can be together, like this, in our home, on our bed…”

Oh the ever loving Gods, Takato, what the hell are you even saying? He thought, but before he could continue this train of thought he heard Junta gasp on the other end and the squelching noises suddenly stopped and all he could hear was shuddered breaths.

“Aghhh, yeah…” Junta said a couple seconds later, having regained his ability to speak somewhat. “I love you, Takato-san. I love you so much. I’m…’m…soo sleepy right now…” he trailed off and there was a small thud that Takato reasoned must have come from the phone falling out of Junta’s hand and on the bed.

“Sleep, my love. We’ll talk later.” Takato whispered back before ending the call.

He wanted to chide himself for saying such sappy crap to Junta but then he realized that it wasn’t sappy, it was his life. They were a couple, they meant the world to each other and even when they were so far apart then were never actually separate. There was still a lot that connected them. It was a comforting thought when he truly needed him, no matter how far he was physically, Junta was only a phone call away.