キリト (kreuzphilosophy) wrote in jroleplay,
キリト
kreuzphilosophy
jroleplay

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Dress Me Up

Kirito: *Standing on a dias not more than three feet along the diameter and scarcely a boot-heel in height, Kirito gazes down at his band's long time costume designer as she presses pins into the seams of his new customized pants, his arms and chest nude to the air, the rest of the new tour's costume draped over a chair only an arm's length away*

Kohta: ::Kohta stares up at his brother from a chair a stride away, shifting uncomfortably in his newly tailored clothes. Lucky for him there hadn't been much pinning to do, and the adjustments to be made were so simple that they were made right then and there. The only reason he was still in the stiff clothes was Kirito's incessant demands to look at both of them together in their new tour designs. He sighs and brings his hand to his forehead, flicking a few wiry blonde strands from his skin:: Nii-chan, aren't those riding a bit low? ::Not that Kohta -really- minds, but he feels as if he needs to ask::

Kirito: *Kirito runs his two freshly gloved hands over his toned abdomen, his eyes trailing up the sparkling fabric to the exposed rise of his hipbones above the line of his pants* *He tosses blades of ebony and gold out of his narrow eyes, barely glancing at Kohta but taking in his words* No.

Kohta: ::It's at this point that Kohta is forced to turn his gaze away for a moment. Kirito rubbing his hands on his naked stomach? And he's supposed to just sit there and ignore that?:: O-oh. ::The words come out dumbfounded and weak, but Kohta forces himself back at Kirito's eyes, glancing at his belt. Wait--that's bad. Glancing at his face. Face. Not. Elsewhere:: Uh....are you going to put your shirt on too? ::Kohta breathes, his fingers twitching on the arm of the chair::

Kirito: *Kirito levels an even look on Kohta now, his hands falling to positions of boredom on his hips--that trademark stance that so oozes his personality* Yes, Kohta. *Said in a tone that implies that yes, he does know how to do costume fittings, since he has done a clear dozen in his life* Why don't you come here so she can fit your jewelry? *ass*

Kohta: ::Kohta narrows his eyes and huffs, crossing his arms and walking silently to their costume designer. He gives her a full smile. To his brother, however, he merely offers a pouty glare:: Yeah, I like that. ::He offers, pointing to a particularly shiny silver ring, and waits as she adjusts his wrist bands and necklace, then plucks the ring onto his finger:: Are you going to get off your pedestal, your Majesty, or shall I help you off? ::He looks at Kirito with a smirk::

Kirito: *Kirito straightens his shoulders and back in a true royal twit fashion, and continues to keep a blank-eyed superior expression on his smooth, gracefully aging features as the woman slips his slip of a vest onto his torso* *He sticks out his tongue*

Kohta: ::He laughs, glancing towards the side mirror near them and adjusting the shoulders of his slim tank top:: You're more immature than I am, Emperor Kirito. ::Kohta manages to work his hands into the pockets of his accessorized jeans, humming to himself absently:: You always take too long, too.

Kirito: It's not my fault she likes to pamper me. *The singer and the designer share a private smirk before she continues to hem his bedazzled slacks*

Kohta: ::Kohta fumes silently, glaring at the two. Why couldn't -he- pamper Kirito? Today was just one of those days..:: Sure. Believe what you want. She likes me better. ::He looks at the designer pleadingly, knowing all too well that her favorites were definitely Kirito and Aiji::

Kirito: *Kirito raises his finely plucked eyebrows at his brother, his skepticism oozing from his very pores as he fastens leather studded bracelets to each of his thin wrists. The designer is more merciful. She winks at Kohta before finishing her pining and motioning for the singer to step off his pedestal*

Kohta: ::Kohta smiles triumphantly and shoots his brother a "I-told-you-so" look, watching him on that high pedestal. He's right in front of him, yet just beyond his reach....Kohta rolls his eyes. Since when did he become an angsty poet? Well...since he decided he loved Kirito.:: Hurry up and get down... ::he whines, feeling uncomfortable::

Kirito: *Like the waters of the Mississippi, Kirito takes his own sweet time adjusting the locks on his accessories, even primping his hair in the floor-length mirror adjacent to the rise, his attitude that of complete comfort in his position of superiority*

Kohta: ::Sighing, he moves toward the pedestal and stands tall, reaching for the hem of Kirito's shirt and tugging it:: Yo. Pretty boy. Let's see what it looks like together?

Kirito: What what looks like? *Disregarding the name, Kirito turns his face toward his brother, the small space of the riser cutting the space between their bodies to only inches, their faces close enough to do makeup on*

Kohta: What we look like together? ::Kohta gets the sinking sensation he's blushing by now, being this close, and he turns his head towards the mirror, furious with his emotions:: I mean the outfits. What the outfits look like together on us. I don't know. Just get down.

Kirito: *A rueful curve to slightly glossed lips at Kohta's distractibility, Kirito bends his knees to rifle around in his designer bag beside the riser, a small tinkling sound carrying on the air as he pulls a sparkling object from it* For a second I thought you meant this. *Aiming his own false blue eyes at their reflections, he holds his hand up for them both to see. There, wound around his fingers is Kohta's old gift, an ornate silver cross*

Kohta: ::Kohta blinks, and breathes, and tries not to look incredulously at Kirito. He carries that around everywhere? Kohta glances down for a moment, hiding his bright smile.:: Well, you know, it'd be cool to see that.. uh...too. You know, on you. And stuff.

Kirito: *Kirito already has his head bowed, blades of gold and ginger obscuring his features as he latches the necklace around his throat. Tossing hair back and then fingerbrushing it away, Kirito tilts his neck and head here and there, studying the effect of the lights on the charm, the way it glitters on his chest like a captured star*

Kohta: ::The glittering of the cross is no match for the way Kirito glitters along with it, and Kohta just about held his breath, enraptured with his older brother's appearance. He swallows, throat suddenly as dry as a desert. This always happens around his brother, and it annoys Kohta to all means that he can't say anything. This captured star on Kirito's chest isn't just the piece of jewerly, but a piece--no, the whole--of Kohta too::

Kirito: *Kirito lets his hair curtain his neck once more, his eyes meets his brother's in the glass, catching that accosted look, that rare expression glazing Kohta's face. For a long moment he allows himself to study it, log it away for future analysis. Does wearing this expensive bauble really make Kohta that happy? The singer fingers the jewelry for a second before speaking* You like it?

Kohta: ::Shaken out of his reverie, Kohta finds his voice, scratchy and deep:: It compliments you really well....::Is all that he can really mumble. There isn't really much else he -could- say without giving some sort of hint to Kirito, and Kohta was doubtful Kirito would ever want to know of his incestuous feelings. It made him want to laugh, really, the beauty of the cross on Kirito, and the way Kohta's face caught shadow in it. It was all too funny.::

Kirito: *With misgivings, Kirito steps from the small platform, his eyes lingering on the face of his brother in that polished glass, the necklace seeming to glint farewell to the man who had gifted it to Kirito. Kirito's face is too neutral to be only that -- the way Kohta had looked at him had almost given him the impression that his brother thought he might, like stage lights, vanish from his vision at any moment.*

Kohta: Well, let's see here then. ::Kohta removes his eyes from the necklace, forcing a funny smile on his face and moving Kirito and himself into the view of the tall mirror. Their costumes look good and compliment each others', naturally, but it's not their costumes that Kohta spends time looking at. Kirito looks so horribly blank...Did he upset him? Kohta stands still, and silent. Now if only his emotions could stay still and silent.::

Kirito: We sparkle. *Kirito grants Kohta that assurance, the sound of his voice. It disturbs him, that he can not read the phases that roam across his brother's face, when not so long ago he could detail a legacy in the mere flash of a smile from the other man. Too concealed, that darkening of his brother's eyes, too taunt the curve of his smile. Guarded, with his hands on Kirito's shoulders as he watches them stand side by side, Kirito feels the rift of an ocean between them. In the glass, he locks in on Kohta's eyes*

You're keeping something from me.

Kohta: ::Kohta's eyes widen, and he hurries to shake his shock away, shifting into a casual smile:: What? There's nothing I have to hide from you, nii-chan. You're being silly. ::But Kohta's hands are starting to sweat, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips anxiously. He doesn't know what Kirito knows or how or why he knows it but Kirito must know something. The only thing Kohta can thinkto do is play it calm, but his nervousness is so very apparent in his stature and voice. Fuck.::

Kirito: *With the swanlike grace of a ballet dancer, and in just as much slow motion, Kirito turns in his brother's grasp, with their shoes and their stances they are on level ground, awarded allowances. The bare skin of his finely tanned shoulders feels the effects of the humidity Kohta's hands were fast to create* I said to this before; you're a bad liar, Kohta. *No flashing thunder of anger, just a deep sense of disappointment rests in the cobalt of his eyes*

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