Getting Into the Spirit

Note: This all started with a pic ----> http://pics.livejournal.com/ladyareia/pic/008e18hh/g100
Don't know who the other guy is, staring at Miya's ass with a very drained look... but we can always dream ^_^

"He's really not as... insane as he seems when he's on stage."

Taka cast the shorter man a disbelieving look.

"No, really!" Touru laughed. "You've only met him a couple of times, and briefly at that. Don't make up your mind about him just yet."

"He's definitely... energetic," Taka mused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You could say that," Touru chuckled, taking a sip from his water bottle, "but brilliant as well."

"And hot," Taka murmured under his breath, then immediately began kicking himself mentally for allowing the slip. Oops...

"Yes, he is," Touru agreed, his face growing serious, "but watch out."

Taka forgot his slight embarrassment and shot the other a questioning look.

"Miyavi is a very affectionate, lovable young man, always hugging and touching those he considers his friends. He cares for his 'family' very deeply." Touru paused to flick the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray in front of him. "If you happen to have an aversion to being touched, randomly, and usually by surprise, this is probably not the place to be working."

"Doesn't bother me," Taka murmered, his knee bouncing up and down in place.

Touru peered at him a moment, a plume of purple-grey smoke briefly obscuring his tan, weathered face, then his eyes flickered down to his watch.

"Someone's supposed to get his costume out and ready and help him if he needs anything before the show, but I have a ton of other things I have to do in less than half an hour." A slight smirk began to spread across his face. "Why don't you take my place?"

Taka's head shot up in surprise. "Why?"

"The best way to get to know him is one on one." The older man stubbed out his cigarette. "He likes to talk, try to relax before he goes on stage. He may not seem the type, but he does get nervous just before performing like anyone else. Get him to loosen up a bit and he'll be your best friend for life."

Taka arched one dark brown eyebrow. "And how do I do that exactly?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Touru said with a shrug and dropped a key on the table infront of him. "Open up Dressing Room One for him and pull out the first few costimes from the closet and hang them on the rack. The Heads want him to wear what's in the black garment bag, but he always makes little changes here and there." His dark eyes twinkled. "They hate that and he knows it." Tossing his now empty water bottle in the recycling bin,the older man left the smoke room with a final wave over his shoulder.

Taka picked up the key, turning the small bronze piece of metal over in his hands thoughtfully, then stood, a determined look on his face.

---

Miyavi opened the door, a familar hum on his lips, heart racing in excitement, blood pumping, mind racing, his body tense and ready for anything and everything. He paused as he caught site of another young man in his dressing room, not the man he was expecting to see.

"Uh, hi," the slightly taller stranger said almost shyly.

Miyavi grinned, a spark of recognision flitting across his brain, but not enough to tell him who this young man was.

"Taka," the young man offered helpfully as they shook hands.

"Ah, Taka, yes! We have met before." Miyavi squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, sometimes names just slip my mind!"

Taka chuckled, his nervousness starting to fade as he turned to wheel a portable clothes rack out for the performer. "Please. You meet so many different people every day, I don't really expect you to-"

"Oh, but I really do remember you, Taka" Miyavi purred and Taka involuntarily shuddered. Thankfully he was hidden behind the swaying rack of clothing.

"Your father got you this job. right?" Miyavi asked, trying to peer through the clothes hanging in his way. "He'd worked here for years before his retirement a few years ago, if I recall correctly."

Taka's brows shot up in surprise. "Well, yes, he did-"

Miyavi smiled and moved around to Taka's side of the clothing rack, eyes absently grazing over the brightly colored pieces of clothing. "He told me once that you were a big fan of mine, even back when I was in Due' l Quartz." He ran a hand lightly over a leopard print top. "Is that still true?"

Taka swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly a bit too dry. "Yes, it's true." he managed to croak. "I've, um, enjoyed your music for some time now, Miyavi-san."

Miyavi's hand paused a moment, then he slowly turned his head toward the taller man, eyes dark and clouded with an emotion Taka could not readily read.

"Is that so?"

Taka fiddled with a sparkled scarf hanging beside him, eyes dating away from the intense gaze now focused on him, his face turning slightly pink.

Miyavi chuckled softly and plucked a few items from the rack, handing them one by on to the other man. Taka followed Miyavi over to the mirrored make-up counter, the vocalist shedding clothing unabashedly as he went. When Miyavi was down to just his boxers, Taka handed him the khaki pants he'd picked out, then his shirt, trying not to make it too obvious as his eyes roamed over the man's pale, painted skin, even as it disappeared under the surprisingly understated clothing. When all that was left in Taka's hands was Miyavi's red jacket, the vocalist turned away from him, staring blankly at his reflection in the large mirror. His hands slowly clenched and unclenched at his side.

"What's wrong?" Taka asked, his eyes lowering to the fists the other man didn't seem to notice he was making.

"What do you see?"

Taka's eyes darted up to meet Miyavi's reflected in the mirror. "Eh?"

"What do you see when you look at me?"

Taka placed a gentle hand on Miyaki's shoulder, trying to keep the worry that he suddenly felt out of his voice.

"I see a highly talented, attractive man who has so much potential it radiates off him like the very sun that brightens the day." Miyavi seemed unfazed by his words, so Taka gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I know it must be... unnerving, to have to face hundreds, sometimes thousands, of strangers on stage," Taka continued quietly. "They expect so much of you, and the pressure must be overwhelming sometimes. But," he caught Miyavi's gaze in th mirror, "you're up to it. Just... try to relax and everything will work itself out in the end. Is there... anything I can do, to help you? All you have to do is ask."

Slowly, Taka's words seemed to filter through Miyavi's darkly clouded mind. The taller man watched as the vocalist seemed to almost wake up, his eyes becoming more focused, his face relaxing as a grin pulled at the corner of Miyavi's mouth. His eyes dark and half-lidded, he turnded to face the other.

"Do you really want to help?"

Taka nodded slowly and before he knew it, Miyavi closed the distance between them, kissing him with a furious, desperate fervor that nearly took his breath away. His hand instinctivly gripped Miyavi's shoulder tighter, drawing him closer. He parted his lips and Miyavi's tongue darted inside, caressing, tasting him in deep, quick strokes. Miyavi's hands roamed over Taka's body with unabashed curiosity, one hand quickly finding its way under his shirt. Dark painted nails scratched and caressed over his chest and abdomen, movements growing bolder by the second. Taka leaned back against the counter, the sharp edge pressing sharply against his backside as Miyavi's other hand worked quickly on his jeans, button and fly. Taking the hint, Taka undid Miyavi's jeans, his hands darting in and pulling out the vocalist's already half hard cock. Miyavi sighed against his mouth and deepened thir kiss, immediately thrusting up desperately into Taka's hand while stroking the other just as furiously.

Taka latched onto Miyavi's long neck, careful not to leave a mark, instead covering his smooth, white skin with quick, soft kisses. He grabbed one of Miyavi's hands, wrapping it around their cocks as they thrust and rubbed delightfully together, tunneled between them. The room filled with the sounds of quiet moans and the rustle of clothing as free hands roamed and carressed, craving more contact as their bodies moved together.

With a low groan, Taka's stomach tightened. Miyavi had the sense to grab a hand towel before Taka came hard, hips thrusting desperately between their hands. A moment later he felt Miyavi tensing as well, pressing him hard against the counter, then releasing himself with a quiet groan. They stood there, tall men half dressed and slumped against each other, breathing hard.

"Fuck..." Taka whispered as Miyavi slowly pulled away. "This is how you loosen up before a show??"

Miyavi smiled slightly as he wiped them both down. "Sometimes."

"So..." Taka blushed slightly as he rearranged himself. "How do you unwind after a concert?"

Miyavi looked up at him, a fierce glint in his eye and Taka raised one eyebrow as he ran his hands once more over the vocalist's lean torso. But before any more could be said, there was a knock on the door. Miyavi grinned, his dark eyes traveling over Taka once more. With a smile, he called over his shoulder, "I'm coming," and turned away, Taka following close behind. As Miyavi took his jacket from Taka, pulled it on and ran his fingers through his hair, Taka could see the bounce return to his step, the tension gone from his neck and face.

And he smiled.