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Love is Love
Fumikage rarely sat at Yuuga’s vanity. It was an elaborate setup with a padded bench, innumerable drawers and compartments as well as an extensive flat top covered in meticulously organized products, brushes, sponges, and every other sort of applicator known to man. Every surface of the vanity was white, except for the hand-tufted blue cushion that padded the vanity bench. The crowning jewel of said vanity, in Yuuga’s opinion, was the oversized rectangular mirror cocooned in the best and brightest LED lightbulbs available on the market. Fumikage was staring at said mirror now, but Yuuga doubted he was seeing his own reflection.
“Mon beau?” Yuuga walked into their shared bedroom. “Is something wrong?”
Red eyes framed by black feathers shifted to Yuuga’s face, and Yuuga could see a small shiver ripple along Fumikage’s spine as he pulled himself from whatever reverie had so captivated him. “What time is it?”
“We still have two hours before the benefit. We have time.” Yuuga stepped closer, frowning at the tension radiating from Fumikage’s back. “May I sit?”
Fumikage broke the tentative eye contact they’d established and shuffled over, hunching his shoulders as if he was folding in on himself.
“Do you not want to go to the benefit?” Yuuga sat and offered his hands to his boyfriend. It stung when Fumikage didn’t take them, but he was not going to force touch if Fumikage needed distance. “It’s not too late to ask Iida-san to give our apologies for us,” Yuuga suggested. “He would do it brilliantly, I’m sure, and probably find a way to evoke sympathy from the press if I told him you weren’t feeling well.”
Fumikage’s shoulders rose, uncurling as he inhaled. He was staring hard at the mirror again. “I think you should go to the banquet … alone.”
“What nonsense is this?!” Yuuga turned on the bench, drawing one leg up in front of him so that he could face Fumikage more directly. “What have I done to upset you?”
“No!” Fumikage was looking at him now, all of the feathers along the back of his head were puffed out and quivering. “No, that’s not it, Yuuga. You haven’t done anything.” Fumikage curled his fingers around Yuuga’s hands, offering the same comfort he’d rejected for himself less than a minute earlier.
“Then what is it?” Yuuga leaned forward, searching the depth of Fumikage’s face. “You have a foolish notion in your head; I can almost see it.”
“I don’t think…” Fumikage trailed off and swallowed. Yuuga watched Fumikage’s Adam’s apple bob through the unbuttoned gap of his dress shirt. “I know you like the attention, the pictures, the flashing lights, and you were made for it. You are so beautiful.” Fumikage trailed the tips of his fingers across the thin skin of Yuuga’s wrist.
“And you think you are not?”
“This isn’t about my looks, Yuuga; this is about me.”
“What about you? Fumi, what has you so worried you won’t even talk to me?”
Fumikage glanced to one of the many flags Yuuga had arranged around their apartment with the artistic flair of a designer. The mixtures of black, purple, gray, and white didn’t normally bring this stricken look to Fumikage’s face. “Are you happy, with me?”
“Of course! When you’re not caught up in whatever cryptic mood this is, you are delight—” Yuuga’s jaw snapped shut so quickly he felt the ache of it in his temple. “Non. Beau? This is what worries you?”
“I don’t want you to ever have to settle, for me, or for…anything.”
An undignified growl of irritation burst from Yuuga’s throat. “I am not settling; you are amazing! You are thoughtful, kind, unafraid to look at the sinister things that others would like to pretend do not exist. You shine hope into every dark corner, Fumikage. I am in awe of you.”
Fumikage’s blush was never visible, but Yuuga had learned to understand the changes in his expression which broadcast Fumikage’s emotions.
“My flag has the same colors as yours,” Yuuga continued. “And even if it were a rainbow of other colors on the allosexual spectrum, it would not matter. I want you, exactly as you are. Nothing else will make me happier.”
For long moments, nothing but air passed between them. When Fumikage found his voice again he murmured, “You’re a force of nature when you’re angry.”
“I have to be if these are the thoughts you let rent space in your head. You are astounding Fumikage, and I want for nothing.” Yuuga tugged aggressively at the seams of his cornflower blue dress shirt, straightening wrinkles that probably weren’t there to begin with. “You’ve been looking at those frivolous servers, chat rooms, whatever, haven’t you?”
“…Maybe.” The glint of mirth was easy to see in Fumikage’s eyes, and it sent a burst of warmth through Yuuga’s heart.
“Well, stop it. They fill your head with rubbish. I am happy to talk sense to you anytime you need it.”
The silence came again, but it was not tense this time, and Yuuga let it pass, squeezing Fumikage’s hand with gentle pressure to remind him that Yuuga wasn’t going anywhere.
“Perhaps a better question to ask is; What can I do for you? I know,” Fumikage held a hand out in warning to stop Yuuga’s protest, already brimming on his lips. “You just listed ways I make you happy. I heard you.” Fumikage’s Adam’s Apple bobbed again. “I want to do something for you, give you something that you want, make you feel as special as you make me feel every day. What can I do for you?”
“You want to do something for me?”
“Yes.”
“…This is about wanting to give something to me, not misdirected self-judgment?”
Fumikage nodded. “Exactly. I think I misdirected those impulses earlier by looking for faults.”
Yuuga held Fumikage’s crimson gaze with his own, captivated by the intensity with which Fumikage approached everything that was important to him. Yuuga slid his hands forward and squeezed Fumikage’s forearms. “Do my makeup for me.”
Fumikage’s head jerked into an abrupt tilt. “That’s what you want?”
“Oui, if you would? I am tired after preparing for the benefit, and I wish to feel your hands on me.” Yuuga blinked slowly, hoping his pale blond lashes would emphasize the deep blue of his eyes the way he thought it did. “Please?”
The edges of Fumikage’s eyes softened. When he lifted his hand to caress the side of Yuuga’s face, Yuuga turned his head and kissed the warm skin of Fumikage’s palm.
Fumikage stroked the curve of Yuuga’s cheek with his thumb. “Do you have any product on your face now?”
“Non.” Yuuga smiled and leaned into his boyfriend’s touch. “We are starting fresh.”
Fumikage nodded. His fingers trailed across the skin of Yoga’s neck to his collarbone. “We have to tuck something around your shirt to protect it.”
Yuuga beamed. “Oui, that is why I left the top button undone.”
Fumikage’s fingers played along the seam of the fabric. “Blue is a lovely color on you.”
Yuuga always put tremendous effort into his appearance, and he received compliments often, but every time he had Fumikage’s eyes on him like that, it brought a surge of heat to his cheeks. “Merci, Fumi.” Yuuga lifted Fumikage’s hand and pressed another kiss into the skin above the metacarpal bones. “I have some hand towels in the first drawer on the left.”
Fumikage drew one of Yuuga’s luxury yellow hand towels and tucked it into the collar of Yuuga’s shirt with careful movements. “Next is moisturizer?”
“Exactement.”
Fumikage scanned the vanity and lifted a round, pink jar of moisturizer away from the other containers. It was Yuuga’s favorite, and the fact that Fumikage could remember that when he never used makeup himself brought a fresh wave of warmth through Yuuga’s chest.
Gentle fingers lifted Yuuga’s face and pressed dots of cool cream against Yuuga’s cheeks, chin, and forehead. Yuuga’s eyes fluttered when Fumikage’s fingers massaged the lotion into his skin.
Yuuga could feel the tickle of Fumikage’s breath on his face like this whisper of a breeze. Fumikage’s fingers retreated, and Yuuga opened his eyes when he heard the container of moisturizer being placed back on his vanity.
Fumikage’s fingers plucked up the primer next, with a movement so fluid that Yuuga had no doubt Fumikage knew exactly what was needed, and in which order. Penetrating red eyes returned to Yuuga’s face, pinning him in place with their intensity. They’d been together for almost a decade now, but it was still a heady sensation to recognize he was the sole focal point of Fumikage’s attention. Fumikage pressed his fingers against Yuuga’s skin in gentle taps that felt like a lingering caress.
The sweep of the sponge Fumikage used to apply foundation brought a rush of simmering tingles that left Yuuga dizzy. Goosebumps lifted along the back of Yuuga’s arms, and he swayed in place, responsive to Fumikage’s every touch.
“This is fun.” Fumikage’s voice was a low murmur, not quite a whisper.
“I thought it might be.” Yuuga’s voice sounded a little shaky and breathless to his own ears, but Fumikage didn’t seem concerned. If anything, he looked as entranced as Yuuga felt.
Yuuga never doubted he was loved and, in this moment, he felt Fumikage’s affection as a palpable force wrapped around him like a thick winter blanket. Yuuga slid his hands across Fumikage’s knees, petting the fabric of Fumikage’s trousers at the start of his thighs. He meant it as an embrace of sorts, but after he’d made contact Yuuga worried his actions could be perceived as a sexual overture. He swallowed and licked his lips. “Is this, okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He’d already started to pull his hands back when Fumikage pressed his own hands on top of Yuuga’s, holding them in place.
“It’s okay. I never feel pressured when your hands are on me.” Fumikage leaned forward so that the breath of his next words ghosted across Yuuga’s neck and the shell of his ear. “I know I’m safe with you.”
Yuuga flipped his hands under Fumikage’s and squeezed them gently. “You are,” he promised. “Always.”
Fumikage’s joy shone so brightly it left Yuuga breathless and grinning. Sitting close together on his vanity’s bench, half in each other’s laps while Fumikage applied Yuuga’s makeup with careful precision, Yuuga felt seen and cherished.
Yuuga’s eyes were intermittently closed under the sweep of eyeshadow and the eyeliner that followed after. Fumikage’s hand was steady and sure with a tenderness even Yuuga, whose self-care routine was vigorous, didn’t always show himself. Blush followed eyeliner, then…
“Just a touch of lip gloss, I think,” Fumikage murmured, half thinking out loud. The earthy smell of rosehips tickled Yuuga’s nose. He expected to feel the smooth brush of the plastic applicator, and almost jumped when the curved tip of Fumikage’s finger make contact.
“I’m sorry.” Fumikage pulled back instantly, his feathers slightly ruffled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Non, it is not your fault. I was…” Yuuga let his eyes linger on the planes of Fumikage’s face. “Distracted.” He reached forward and squeezed Fumikage’s forearms in a way he hoped was encouraging. “You are captivating when you concentrate like that.”
The expression that Yuuga recognized as Fumikage’s blush moved over dark features. “May I continue?”
Yuuga drew oxygen deep into his lungs, trying to balance out the dizzy sensation that had almost swept him away, and nodded.
“Please do.”
Fingertips aren’t always the most celebrated applicator in the beauty industry, but in that moment, Yuuga was ready to swear by them. The wet slide of Fumikage’s skin across his own might have been considered erotic to some, but it was the emotion that drove the actions of his stoic boyfriend that moved Yuuga.
Fumikage’s thumb lingered at the corner of Yuuga’s mouth longer than possibly could have been necessary. When he pulled back Fumikage caressed the skin of Yuuga’s neck, and whispered, “Close your eyes; I’m going to set everything.”
The burst of a setting spray was both jarring and refreshing, a shock of cool against overheated skin. Fumikage’s hand squeezed Yuuga’s shoulder, grounding him for a moment before moving the towel he’d tucked there at the start of this process. “There, finished.”
Yuuga started to lift his hands but stopped when Fumikage reached for his shirt and buttoned the top button. “Do you want to take a look?”
“I already know it will be beautiful. I see everything I need to see in your eyes, mon beau.”
Yuuga turned to look in the mirror and smiled. He couldn’t have done a better job himself, and he loved to see Fumikage framed with him in any capacity, especially a mirror. “You spoil me, Fumi.” He turned to meet Fumikage’s gaze directly, and not through the mirror. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Yuuga grinned and slid off the bench, before holding his hand to Fumikage. “Shall we go? I want everyone to see the handsome, caring, loving boyfriend who chooses me and not them.”
The sparkle in Fumikage’s eyes when he slid his hand into Yuuga’s sent zings of delight through Yuuga’s center. “I’d be honored to be by your side.”