Movie Night [ M!Kazuo x N!Kazuo ]

"Ighk." Barely ten minutes into the movie, and there was a sex scene. Kazuo uttered a sound of disgust made in his throat. He reached for the remote, but the sleek-haired boy on the other end of the couch calmly pulled it closer to his side before Kazuo could grab it.
"Every scene could be important," his novel-verse counterpart explained in his usual monotone.
Kazuo scowled. Black Kiss was supposed to be a psycho thriller/murder mystery. An almost ideal combination for the pair of Kiriyamas: said to have all kinds of graphic gore and bizarre murders that would hold movie-verse Kiriyama's attention, plus an unnecessarily complex mystery that seemed to lead everywhere and nowhere at once that would intrigue novel-verse Kiriyama's deductive abilities.

A sex scene was unanticipated. And as Kazuo made clear, unwelcome. But the scene changed soon enough... into something much more welcome. A gory vision of a man on a bed, the entirety of his torso pinned open to fully reveal all his bloody, gruesome insides like a human dissection. Kazuo leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. His dark eyes lit up with an electric interest at the graphic scenery.
Kiriyama's gaze turned from the screen to study his counterpart's face.
It wasn't long before Kazuo noticed, and as soon as the scene changed he turned to cast his alter a somewhat sour look, as if to say 'what are you looking at?'. Novel-verse Kiriyama was probably the closest thing to a friend movie-verse Kiriyama had; he could not kill him - as killing him would kill himself - and unlike many others, his presence did not much annoy him. Novel-verse Kiriyama was quiet and intelligent, two qualities Kazuo found somewhat easier to tolerate in a companion. His counterpart's lack of emotion did not particularly unnerve him as it did others... In fact, sometimes he found he rather enjoyed it. His counterpart did not get annoyed or offended by him, did not seem to hold any irrational or morally-influenced opinions about him, and was almost always quite compliant to talk about whatever Kazuo wanted to talk about or do whatever Kazuo wanted to do.

As such, Kazuo was more willing to talk aloud with him than with most others. But this being the first time he was at his counterpart's home, his words had dwindled with something like timidity. Kazuo was not quiet because he was timid - but he did tend to grow quieter in situations he was less comfortable with.

At the look Kazuo cast him, Kiriyama turned his hollow eyes back to the screen without a word.

As the film progressed, the two began exchanging theories as to who the killer was.
"It's got to be Mari," Kazuo insisted quietly. He was firm in his theory, perhaps for good reason. "The movie showed her killing the guy at the beginning."
"... I'm not so sure," Kiriyama replied. "I... slightly suspect Kasumi's twin sister. Tatsuo, also, is suspicious."
"Don't blame Tatsuo just because he has my face." Kazuo said somewhat teasingly with a small smile. The character Tatsuo was played by Masanobu Ando, who movie-verse Kiriyama was identical to. But Tatsuo wasn't much like Kazuo at all. "Besides, it's got to be Mari. We saw her do it."
"I am not so sure." Kiriyama maintained his stance calmly, and that seemed to be the end of the debate for now as the movie carried on.

Further in, Kiriyama came to an abrupt conclusion, during a briefing about the evidence when it was mentioned the black lipstick on the victim's cheek contained poison from an Angel's Trumpet flower. "Yozan, the man Yusuke has been speaking to about the case," he clarified in case his wild-haired counterpart did not recall. "He has an Angel's Trumpet plant in his home. There is a conceivable possibility he is the killer."
Kazuo arched a brow. "... And he kissed his... male victim... with black lipstick on?"
"It is possible." Affirmed Kiriyama, tone unchanging.
Kazuo remained unconvinced, still firm in believing Mari was the killer, but said nothing more and returned his attention to the film.

An action scene was building. Mari appeared to have lured her friend into a house and killed her, and the authorities were closing in on the home. They cautiously stepped into a room full of bizarre dolls and plush toys, eerily stuck full of pins and hung from the ceiling. Something in the room, however, was immediately apparent to both Kiriyamas.
A Cheshire grin played across Kazuo's lips. "Those arms are that girl's," he pointed out just above a murmur, eyes alight with excitement. One of the larger dolls strung from the ceiling had bloody, human arms stitched in place of its real arms, but the authorities did not appear to notice initially amongst all the other toys in the room.
"I noticed that, too." Kiriyama replied. His perpetually cool gaze flickered through every piece of the scene with meticulous attention to detail.

Kazuo leaned forward in his seat again, eyes glued to the screen as the authorities progressed to the next room, which was empty but for two figures at the other end of it. Mari, standing with a small knife to her friend who was seated, and casting a nightmarish smile. Her friend was seated in a chair, and pinned and stitched and mutilated all over to resemble a blend of doll and corpse. Kazuo's eyes were wide as he took in the scene, captivated, his breathing deep and soft as if awestruck by a beautiful landscape. His counterpart turned to stare at him again; this time he did not notice at first, too enthralled by the film's gore.

As one of the investigators, Yusuke, crept forward to try and talk Mari out of the situation - strange, considering Mari's friend was clearly dead and there was really no use threatening her - it was revealed the standing figure of Mari was, in fact, a perfect human taxidermy. Only once the suspense dwindled and the film moved on from the gore again did Kazuo notice his counterpart staring at him. He scowled again. "Why do you keep looking at me?" He asked, not without some annoyance in his tone.
Kiriyama stared at his wild-haired alter a moment more, and then looked away, picking up the remote to pause the film. "Excuse me. I will return shortly." His face and tone were as empty as ever.
Kazuo continued to eye him with a faint scowl, but did not inquire as to what he was doing. He leaned back against the couch again and took to picking at his nails, gaze occasionally flitting back up to his counterpart's luxurious big-screen television to study the scene it had been paused on. But there was nothing interesting to note.

He began to question his counterpart's definition of 'shortly', however, as the minutes continued to tick by. Enough time passed that the screen dimmed to conserve energy, and then more time still until the DVD player's screensaver kicked in. A sour look crossed Kazuo's features, and he resolved to standing from the couch to find out what the hell his counterpart was doing that was taking so long.

He had heard novel-verse Kiriyama move off upstairs, and so followed for the staircase. The house was huge and modern, something like a mansion. The hallway he was met with upstairs was spacious to say the least; small tables adorned with photos and expensive-looking vases lined its walls here and there. There were a number of large doors - hinged doors, not sliding shoji doors - but at that point Kazuo was not sure where his counterpart had gone... He remembered hearing a door shut. There was a bathroom visible because its door was open, so that must not be it. Another open door led to some kind of second living room, with large windows through which the lights of town could be seen in the darkness outside. Kazuo paused to peek in and glance over the room, but his alter was not there either.

For some reason he felt the need to move stealthily, maybe just because he felt as if he was snooping through the home, so his steps became more careful and his socks went almost silent across the floor. Kazuo was practiced in stealth. Given the right environment, he could practically become a ghost even with shoes on his feet.

He approached one of the double doors to one side of the hall, initially attempting to pull one of the two doors to the side upon grabbing the knob, but he remembered these did not look like sliding doors. So he next tried turning the knob and both pushing and pulling the door, but it seemed to be locked. All was done quietly. He paused then, and tilted his head toward what remained of the hall. He could faintly make out a rustling sound. Was it one of the housekeepers...? Maybe he could kill her- no, he would get in trouble. It was an interesting idea, though; that he could kill one of the maids and his counterpart would not be mad at him. Could not be mad at him. Haha.

Regaining focus and pushing the subtle smile from his face, Kazuo crept further down the hall toward the sound. He was pretty sure his counterpart had gone upstairs, and not downstairs... He couldn't recall seeing any stairs leading downstairs, unless they were behind a door, in which case he would have heard novel-verse Kiriyama open and close that door. He stopped at another double door nearer the end of the hallway, listening, and seemed to determine the source of the rustling sound was in that room. The noise was quiet... Kazuo was still unable to identify just what it was. He grasped the door handle and pushed to find that this door was open.

Novel-verse Kiriyama's room was as clean and luxurious as the rest of the home. But Kazuo took little to no notice of the room, as it took him only a second to lay eyes on his sleek-haired counterpart.

Kiriyama was seated on the edge of his bed. Small beads of sweat were scattered about his pale face - which was as perfectly expressionless as always, though his lids were set slightly lower than usual like it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. His breathing was audible and heavy from slightly parted lips, something like panting now that he had paused to lift his hollow gaze to his counterpart. His hands, meanwhile, were between his thighs - one holding aside his open belt and unzipped black slacks, and the other with a distinctly firm grip on a fully erect member protruding from said unzipped black slacks.

"... My apologies," Kiriyama said rather breathlessly, still wracked with soft panting.

It took a minute of utter shock until Kazuo felt heat rising into his face. After a couple of seconds of locking eyes with his alter, he turned abruptly to storm down the hall, soon hearing from behind him the brisk footsteps of his counterpart. Kazuo's mind was torn with panic - the simple and overwhelming instinct to leave - and racing thoughts regarding the exact circumstances of his counterpart's arousal.
That's sick, his initial thought persisted, thinking back to just what they had been watching. That's sick. But he tried to focus beyond that, about the questions on Tumblr his counterpart had answered before.
It's rare.
It's random.
It's without reason.
It's without reason.
It's random.
It's without reason. But he couldn't shake the notion there had been a reason, and it was a notion he loathed on every level.

Even before his counterpart had caught up, however, Kazuo paused in the living room some distance before reaching the door. A troubled look hovered over his features. It's random. The idea was beginning to settle into his mind now that he had kept repeating it, so he was able to calm somewhat. It's random.
"My apologies, Mr. Kiriyama." Came a flawlessly placid, monotone voice behind him, its breath largely restored this time.
Though he did not fully turn to face him, Kazuo gave a slight turn of his head back toward his alter. "... It's random?" He asked tentatively.
"Yes." Novel-verse Kiriyama affirmed. "It was rude of me to leave you waiting. I apologize for... placing you in such an embarrassing situation."
Kazuo was silent for a moment more, thinking. ".... Whatever..." His counterpart didn't even know what embarrassment was. Or how to feel apologetic, for that matter. Kazuo turned to drift back to the couch without looking at his counterpart, returning to his previous seat.

After an examination of the human taxidermy, it was revealed Mari had died two weeks prior, which was before the murder. Fucking impossible. But Kazuo did not voice his thoughts. He sat curled at his end of the couch, watching the film but no longer voicing his commentary, and of course avoiding the thought of what he had inadvertently walked in on. And avoiding the presence of his counterpart as a whole, really, who had also reclaimed his seat at the other side of the couch. Kiriyama too, had gone quiet, and was staring at the screen rather distantly, like his attention was not really there.

"... What is embarrassment like?" Kiriyama asked suddenly after a few minutes.
Kazuo spared his counterpart only a fleeting glance. "... You wouldn't like it." He answered flatly. That seemed to be all he was going to offer as answer.

It came to light that Kasumi's twin sister, one of novel-verse Kiriyama's suspects, had been murdered long ago. So that theory was almost definitely out the window. But then, Mari was supposed to be dead before the murder as well, yet the beginning of the film had clearly shown her committing the murder. Kazuo was starting to wonder if the movie had a supernatural element to it that involved Mari's ghost. That would be stupid. He was sure his counterpart would be disappointed, too. Or... something like disappointed, at least.

Tatsuo - another of Kiriyama's suspects - was somewhat obsessively in love with the main character, Asuka. The two were meeting at his apartment, and he rather abruptly asked if she would move in with him when the pair barely knew each other. She was uncertain, to say the least.
"Mr. Kiriyama."
Kazuo glanced, again just briefly, at his counterpart across the couch. "Hmn." His only reply was a short sound that even lacked so much as a questioning tone.
"I was wondering if you would be interested in moving in with me." Just as Kazuo began to scowl, the other boy continued. "I am aware your home is not as spacious or well-kept as mine. We are both without parents. The maids here would provide for you much better than I am sure you currently provide for yourself."
"Fuck no."
"Why, exactly, are you opposed to the idea?" Kiriyama asked, his tone as empty as if he was a computer reciting what it was programmed to say. There was good reason Kazuo thought of his counterpart as a robot.
"It's weird, for one," was his initial answer. "Besides, I like my privacy. I wouldn't want... maids, or you, around all the damn time."
"... I see." A pause, in which both Kiriyamas turned their attention back to the film. It was revealed Tatsuo had a connection to Kasumi, whom the murders taking place seemed to revolve around. So Tatsuo remained a suspect. Just as Kazuo thought the conversation to be over, however, his counterpart continued. "Do you experience loneliness, Mr. Kiriyama?"
"Not really."
"But you spend much of your time alone, correct?"
"Yeah. I like it that way, though."
"From what I understand, most people do not."
Kazuo's brows knit as he took on a faint scowl again. "You think I'm 'most people'?" He scoffed.
"Not at all. Just an observation, Mr. Kiriyama." A pause, as Kiriyama appeared to study his wild-haired alter for a moment. His gaze shifted to the television, and then back to his movie-verse counterpart.
"What?" Kazuo had returned his eyes to the film, but was quick to notice his alter's staring at him again. He kept his gaze glued to the screen, nonetheless. "What do you keep looking at me for?" Impatience was building in his voice, though his volume remained quiet as usual.
Kiriyama did not answer. He did not remove his steady stare, either. Instead, after a short silence, he paused the film and asked, "Would you like something to drink? Water, or tea?"
Kazuo was hesitant to take his eyes off of even the paused screen, and only briefly glanced at his counterpart before letting his gaze drop to the small table between the couch and television. "... Water, I guess." He answered after a moment.

Kiriyama stood from the couch, drifting off for the kitchen. Apparently he intended to fetch their drinks himself instead of having one of the maids do it. When he returned a couple of minutes later, his alter did not let this go unnoticed.
"Why didn't you ha-" He stopped mid-sentence when his sleek-haired counterpart sat directly beside him instead of on the other end of the couch. Kazuo recoiled somewhat, a troubled look crossing his face.
Kiriyama paused as if to offer him his glass of water, but, seemingly deciding he was not going to take it, set it on the table instead. He held onto his own glass, though, and took a brisk drink before setting it down, also. His hollow eyes remained staring at the glass even as he spoke. "Is our proximity uncomfortable for you, Mr. Kiriyama?"
"Yeah," came Kazuo's sharp retort. "Kind of." He studied his counterpart warily.
"Why is that?"
"I shouldn't have to say..." His cautious look began turning into more of a leer.
"I'm afraid I don't understa-"
"I think you... do." There was a pause in his sentence as if he had thought of something just then, and his dark eyes shifted away to glower at the floor. "... Are we going to get back to the movie or what?"
"Do you not like anybody in close proximity to yourself?"
"Not really..." Kazuo continued to avert his gaze.
"Do you not like physical contact?"
"What the hell do you think?" Kazuo snapped, turning to glare at his counterpart then. "I didn't come here for a fucking intervie-" He was abruptly cut off when his alter's lips were suddenly pressed against his own.

Near immediately, Kazuo raised a hand to fend his counterpart off, but Kiriyama grabbed his wrist just as swiftly, pushing into the kiss further. The wild-haired youth writhed, legs scrambling from their curled position for steady ground. But once he managed to stand, his counterpart followed suit - still with a grip on his wrist - and expertly turned him around to shove him onto his back on the couch. Kazuo raced to get back on his feet, but in seconds found his counterpart positioned on top of him. Before Kiriyama could get another hold on his alter, Kazuo whipped a punch hard up into his stomach. Kiriyama's breath caught, but he was undeterred from his position, and soon had both his counterpart's wrists before the other boy could dart free.

"Please calm down." Kiriyama requested with perfect calm, staring relentlessly into his altar's dark eyes.
"Get the fuck off of me," Kazuo hissed through clenched teeth.
"You are fearful of intimacy. There is no reason to be."
"FUCK YOU." Even when Kazuo raised his voice, it was not very loud; he was strangely soft-spoken for his violent temperament.
"That is my intention."
Kazuo froze in his struggling, his expression falling into something between alarm and horror. "... What the hell d-" But he was cut off again by another insistent kiss.

Kazuo's heart was racing now. Panic was pumping through his veins. He was not arrogant. He was not delusional. He knew his novel-verse counterpart was stronger than him, more skilled than him, smarter than him, probably faster than him - superior to him in many regards overall. There was no use lying to himself about it, and no use denying it to anyone who might ask. He knew his counterpart could beat him in a fight. He knew his counterpart could hold him against his will. And he knew his counterpart, should he decide to, could probably fuck him against his will, too.

... More or less against his will.

The wild-haired youth was deeply opposed to physical intimacy, to say the least. His counterpart was right in that he was unaccustomed to physical contact. And sex was just something that didn't interest him at all; he was too preoccupied with violence and blood. On some level sex may have intrigued him, but it was far from top priority, and from his perspective its cons far outweighed its pros. Besides the dangers of disease, it was too closely linked to emotional attachment. As he sometimes put it himself, Kazuo was even more aromantic than he was asexual. Love disgusted him.

However, no matter what vague appeal sex may have held for him, he had, at least, hoped his first time would be with a girl. Not that he had even planned on a first time; Kazuo was perfectly content being a virgin, and didn't give a damn how people might view him for it. He made it pretty obvious he didn't give much of a damn how people viewed him anyways.

Kiriyama pushed into the kiss. Kazuo squirmed underneath him, still struggling to break free, but his wrists remained secured in his counterpart's unyielding grip, and his mobility beneath him was limited. He tensed and then pressed back into the couch upon feeling something hard brush his inner thigh; he couldn't help wondering if his alter's erection had remained there since the episode upstairs. He hadn't looked. He felt his breath pick up all of a sudden, as of the beginnings of hyperventilating. A panic attack waiting in the wings. It's rare. It's random. It's- He flinched upon feeling the terrible sensation of their members grazing, novel-verse Kiriyama's through black slacks and movie-verse Kiriyama's through dark jeans - and to Kazuo's horror, his own experienced a sharp, short rush of heat. It was a heat his body felt deprived of. A kind of pleasure he was unaccustomed to, and he was at once terrified of it and left craving more. Something foreign - something that was not blood or violence yet created a similar need for more.

It did not occur to him that he had stopped thrashing. As his arms fell lax, his counterpart slowly released his wrists. Kazuo felt his lids start falling, and his quick, shallow breathing began to slow and deepen. Kiriyama kissed urgently, applying a subtle suction as if pleading with his alter's lips to reciprocate. His body slowly lowered onto the other's. Movie-verse Kiriyama was surprised at how heavy his counterpart was - considering his slender frame, the weight had to be muscle. His breath caught at the rigid length he could feel pressed against his crotch; his heart leapt anxiously when his own stiffened further. His breathing picked up again, barely audible sounds escaping with each short-lived exhale. His own arousal terrified him. The whole situation at hand terrified him, yet his alter continued with utter calm.

Kiriyama's arms, positioned on their elbows, lifted to slink forward and slide beneath the nape of his alter's neck. It was a kind of embrace almost, and gentle, but he used the hold to pull his movie-verse counterpart close against him. His breath was perfectly patient and steady in contrast to the panic of the boy under him - though it grew suddenly heavier when his counterpart finally returned the kiss... sort of.

Shutting his eyes hard, Kazuo abruptly snagged his counterpart's bottom lip with his teeth, tugging with more vehemence than was normally exercised in a kiss before biting down harder. Kiriyama flinched somewhat as Kazuo's teeth broke the tender skin of his lip and blood trickled out of the wound, quickly mixing with saliva. Kazuo's breath deepened then, and he took more of his counterpart's lip into his mouth almost hungrily. Kiriyama seemed in no way opposed, and swiped his tongue along the seam where their lips met before taking to undulating his mouth against Kazuo's upper lip.

The sleek-haired Kiriyama found his body pressing more insistently against the other's; he began shifting upward as if to begin on removing their clothes, but instead Kazuo's hand shot up like a striking snake to grip his collar and pull him back down into the kiss. Kazuo's maw opened, prompting his counterpart's to do the same, and his tongue swiftly invaded the other's mouth to tease at its newfound opponent. But Kazuo's tongue withdrew then, as if coaxing a lion from its cage. As planned, Kiriyama quickly caught on and slipped his tongue into his alter's mouth instead. The two wrestled there for a moment before Kazuo suddenly latched on to his counterpart's tongue with his lips and teeth, dragging both slowly down the muscle. This brought a sudden, sharp sigh of desire from Kiriyama, and once his counterpart had reached the tip of his tongue, novel-verse Kiriyama pulled away to lift back onto his knees. His erection was obvious through his slacks, and upon reaching Kazuo's belt, he could see his alter was no better. Kazuo's breathing began to pick up again as he peered down at his counterpart working swiftly to undo his belt. He was rapidly regaining the notion he didn't want to do this - and started crab-crawling backwards to try to sit up and pull his jeans from his alter's hands. But Kiriyama only leaned forward to follow, undoing the button and zipper with flawless efficiency and then quickly grabbing hold of Kazuo's pants to pull them toward him just as the wild-haired youth was crawling hastily away.

The result being that in a matter of seconds, Kazuo's pants had been dragged down to his ankles. He was left in his T-shirt, navy plaid boxers, and socks. He had moved back to nearly sitting on the armrest at the opposite end of the couch by then, and withdrew his bare, slender legs in toward him... while Kiriyama successfully pulled the jeans past his ankles, and then discarded them to the floor. Novel-verse Kiriyama paused then, gazing up at his counterpart. Sweat littered his face again; his sleek, black hair was just beginning to look untidy, with scattered strands losing their place, but for his disheveled appearance and panting breath, his face was as blank as always and his eyes just as hollow. Slowly, as if wary of startling his clearly skittish counterpart, he crept sideways to begin standing from the couch. But his alter on the other end didn't move, remaining leaning back against the arm and watching warily as if prepped to spring away. Kazuo's expression no longer held much sign of anger - only caution, anxiety, and some subtle traces of fear.

Once standing, Kiriyama started stepping closer just as slowly. He reached his counterpart without scaring him off, however, though Kazuo gazed up at him with an increasingly anxious look. Upon reaching him, Kiriyama stared at him for a moment more, before abruptly scooping his counterpart up by the waist and half-dragging, half-throwing him to the floor beside the couch. Kazuo barely had time to register what was happening or start squirming before he hit the floor, but once there he didn't move much other than shifting to rest back on his elbows. His face remained deeply worried.

But as Kiriyama began undoing his own pants, his wild-haired alter took on a somewhat darker look, and sat up to spring forward suddenly, half-tackling him to the floor against the side of the couch. Kiriyama landed on his hind end with a short "Hmph-" but was soon pressed back against the couch, Kazuo's lips latching onto the front of his throat. His chin lifted to offer easier access, and he shut his eyes, breathing hard. Kazuo crept around the side of his counterpart's throat, dragging his tongue across hot skin and then biting down on a tendon, eliciting a short, desperate sound from the other boy. Kazuo's hands began working at the collar of his alter's dress shirt, blindly undoing button after button as he continued attacking Kiriyama's neck with his mouth. The sleek-haired Kiriyama was panting hard. Soft, brief moans escaped him from time to time at the desire his counterpart was driving him to. "This isn't-" another breathless sound. "... necessary," he argued through the assault of pleasure at his throat. But his attempt at grabbing for his counterpart's hands at his shirt only led Kazuo to bite down harder on his neck, making him flinch. Soon enough Kazuo had unbuttoned his alter's shirt, and hastily peeled it off of him, before lunging forward to connect his lips with Kiriyama's bare chest.

"Stop..." The sleek-haired boy gasped - yet he made no move to stop his counterpart.
Kazuo's mouth kept slinking down the other boy's chest and stomach. His alter was more muscled than him, probably in better physical health overall considering he actually took care of himself. As Kazuo neared his counterpart's bellybutton, his hands set about what was not yet done of his pants, haphazardly unbuckling his belt and then his button and zipper in turn. Kiriyama's raging erection promptly burst free, pushing urgently against black briefs. But Kazuo did not direct his attention to it, instead trailing his lips to the side, pulling Kiriyama's pants and briefs down only enough to nip and kiss at his hip.
Kiriyama shuddered, arching back against the couch. "Please- Mr. Kiriyama, I would like to begin-" A sharp exhale was wrought through his breath when Kazuo's ravenous kissing moved closer to where he wanted it. Closer, but his member remained trapped behind his briefs, and his wild-haired alter had not yet even moved to pull them away.

Kiriyama gazed on, curious as to if his counterpart was going to continue onto oral sex... but when said counterpart began creeping back up his chest, novel-verse Kiriyama grew impatient. He forcefully shoved his wild-haired counterpart off of him, then leaning back to wriggle out of his own pants. Next he moved forward onto all fours to grab onto the other boy's boxers.

The dazed and vaguely perplexed look in Kazuo's face shifted into one of alarm. Suddenly panic-stricken, he started crawling frantically backward, but his counterpart quickly latched a grip onto his ankle with one hand while pulling at his boxers with the other. Just as with his pants, his boxers, too, were dragged off of him, leaving exposed a perfectly rigid five inches. The instant Kiriyama released his ankle, Kazuo's legs hastily withdrew in some futile attempt to cover himself, and he sat there curled and shivering nervously. His dark eyes did not move from his counterpart, though, as if wary of even blinking.

Kiriyama discarded his alter's boxers and then paused, staring at the quivering, naked form before him. In the silence, his breath was heavy and desperate with need, while his counterpart's was shuddering. But after a minute of such silence, Kiriyama crept forward. Kazuo didn't move, watching. Kiriyama set a hand on his movie-verse counterpart's shoulder and pushed very gently toward the side. "Turn around," he instructed, his tone perfectly even despite his panting. Kazuo leered at him wearily for a moment, before slowly, defeatedly turning around and shifting to all fours, head hanging. He couldn't believe what he was doing. But he wasn't going to believe for now - he wasn't going to think about it. There was the sound of briefs being shed behind him. Then the sound of his counterpart spitting, presumably for lubricant. He realized he was still shaking.

He jumped at the touch of his counterpart's hands at his waist.
"... This may be painful at first," Kiriyama cautioned breathlessly.
Kazuo wasn't going to think about it. He was determined not to think about it, and kept his eyes glued to the floor beneath him. A short cry - his frame cringed and he shut his eyes as he felt his counterpart's hard cock push into him and heard a gasp, which was followed by a soft moan. He felt his alter's fingers dig into his waist, but it was nothing compared to the pain slowly sliding its way into his virgin ass. One of Kiriyama's hands crept up Kazuo's back, only to slink back down as he pulled out to the head - the wild-haired youth braced himself, but still shuddered when his counterpart pushed back in again. He didn't know much about gay sex. Was this supposed to feel good...? Or did it always feel like this, and certain people just liked it? He heard another gasp escape the boy behind him.

Even once a rhythm was established, Kazuo couldn't help soft sounds at each push in. But this only seemed to urge his counterpart on, as he clutched Kazuo's hips tighter and began thrusting steadily deeper. Short moans spilled from Kiriyama every other thrust; the hot, tight walls of his alter's ass hugged his cock perfectly, and proved so much more satisfying than pumping by hand.

A chill cascaded over Kazuo's form in a great wave, sending goosebumps rippling through his skin. "Hnnn-" He moaned suddenly, dropping onto one of his elbows as every inch of him felt hot and hungry to be touched. The pain was dulling, to be gradually replaced by a rush of ecstasy like that which he normally got killing. But it was more than that. It was a pleasure that permeated every part of him, and made his own cock ache for touch and for warmth. But he knew he couldn't reach for it now; his counterpart was picking up the pace, and he needed both arms to keep balanced against the force of his alter's thrusting.

Kazuo's moans became less out of pain and more out of desire, blending with the urgent sounds of the boy behind him. Kiriyama used the grip at his counterpart's waist to pull their connected bodies closer with each thrust, a groan becoming a desperate sound as he began pushing into Kazuo harder and faster. Kazuo couldn't stand by and take it anymore; he leaned forward to rest his head against the floor for better leverage while he used a free hand to take hold of his depraved member. He shuddered at the welcomed contact. It wasn't often he even pleasured himself, but now more than ever his cock needed the attention. He started pumping, fast at first out of desperation, but then slowing somewhat to match the pace of his alter's thrusting. An impossible heat was building between them - he could feel it in his counterpart's cock and in his own.

Kiriyama gripped his counterpart, pounding into him with increasing desperation. His moans escalated. His fingers dug into the other boy's slender sides as if to peel the skin off of him. Every touch made Kazuo hungry for more, like he just wanted to be enveloped, eaten alive; his skin burned for physical contact. He felt hot ecstasy surge through him then, filling him, the heat in his cock reaching its height and threatening to burst -- he gave a breathless cry when a more tangible heat suddenly poured into him. Behind him, Kiriyama was shoved desperately against him, shuddering and gasping as he climaxed and his seed erupted into his alter in fluctuating waves. Like a chain reaction, his ejaculating seemed to flood his counterpart, pushing him over the edge, and Kazuo was driven to follow in turn. His frenzied pumping gradually slowed to squeezing the cum from his dick with an iron grip, the stuff shooting out onto the wood tile floor. A final spasm of his hips wrought a few more short sounds from his sleek-haired alter... and then the two were together, trembling, panting, with the last few heavy sighs of their release.

Another minute or two, and Kiriyama slowly pulled out, drawing a short cry from his wild-haired alter. His breathing slowly calming, Kiriyama stood to retrieve his briefs and pants. Kazuo shuddered, and tottered over onto his side - avoiding the mess he had left - and curling there on the floor. His shirt was wet with sweat, as his counterpart had never removed it. He was trying not to think. He was trying so hard not to think. It had felt so good - it had felt too good. He at once felt like a weight had been lifted off of him, and like one had been placed on him.

He flinched when his boxers were dropped on him.
"Get dressed. I can wake a maid to... clean this up."
Kazuo's brow slowly furrowed. His gaze reluctantly lifted to glower at his counterpart. "... F.. Fuck no." His voice came out little more than a hoarse whisper.
Kiriyama paused as he was buttoning his pants, regarding his alter's protest for a moment. "... None of them will tell anybody."
"Fuck no." Kazuo said again, raising his voice better this time. He managed to pry himself off of the floor and sit up, keeping his knees pulled to his chest so as to better cover his steadily waning member while he grabbed for his boxers. He was beginning to notice an ache in his ass. A scowl crept into his features as he turned his back to his counterpart to pull his boxers on.
Kiriyama stared at him a moment more. "... I understand." He bent over to pick his shirt up from the floor, but only draped it over the arm of the couch before moving off for the kitchen.

Kazuo eyed his alter warily. His dark eyes were still not without some anxiety, not without the child-like fear of before. But he climbed to his feet, wincing slightly, and shuffled toward the other end of the couch to retrieve his jeans, which had been tossed to the floor. As he was getting them back on, he turned to leer at his alter who was returning from the kitchen with a roll of paper towel.

Kiriyama's sweat-dampened hair had started to lose its shape, enough sleek strands falling into his face to nearly give him bangs again. He kneeled down on the floor near where Kazuo had been positioned, ripping off a couple of sheets of paper towel to fold them and begin wiping at the thick, white strings of semen left on the floor. Kazuo watched him, a scowl still hovering over his features, though a mix of emotions was sifting through his eyes. After a minute he turned his gaze away to glower at the television, where the DVD player's screensaver had kicked in. ".... Can we finish the movie now?" He asked quietly.