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Sam Porter Bridges's Chest Hair

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"Mr. Kojima!" an intern shouted, running into his office. The intern was nearly out of breath with how she'd hurried to tell him the good news. "It's time!" she said, once she could.

Hideo Kojima, auteur video game creator, stood. He couldn't help but smile. "Excellent," he said. "Bring me Norman Reedus."

"But, Mr. Kojima, your call with Monster Beverage Corporation's Monster Energy!" his PA said.

"Put them on hold," Hideo Kojima declared. "This is more important."

Norman Reedus was brought to the private animator's suite, still in his tight mo-cap suit. His hair was sweaty from his hard, rough acting session. Hideo Kojima smiled. His friend was a hard worker, and he liked that about him.

“Mr. Kojima,” Norman Reedus said, standing in front of his desk.

“Please,” Hideo Kojima said. “Call me Hideo Kojima.”

Norman Reedus smirked. “They said this was about the animation.” He finally sat down in the chair across from Hideo Kojima’s animating space. “That you needed to see me in private.”

Hideo Kojima stood and walked over to him. He stepped around his desk and leaned against it. Norman Reedus parted his legs, his thick thighs held tightly in the mo-cap suit. “We’re starting to add on the finishing touches of your character’s,” Hideo Kojima looked Norman Reedus up and down, “Body.”

“Yeah?” Norman Reedus’s voice was a low growl. He shifted a little, and Hideo Kojima had to keep from glancing at his muscles.

“I want your character in my open-world action game, Death Stranding (2019), to be as close to the real thing as possible. I want all of you accounted for. Every inch of your skin represented. Every single hair.”

“Hideo Kojima,” Norman Reedus said, leaning forward. He looked like he wanted to reach out, to pull the auteur video game designer, writer, director, and producer close to him. “I want that too,” he gruffed. But, he looked to the side, suddenly a little shy. “My body hair.... It’s not that impressive.”

Hideo Kojima nearly got on his knees to take Norman Reedus’s hands in his own, to comfort him, to soothe his insecurities. “Your body hair is perfect, Norman Reedus. That’s why I want to design it myself! I want to make sure every gamer knows how splendid your body is, how divine your temple.”

Norman Reedus stood, suddenly right in Hideo Kojima’s space. They shared a breath, their mouths so close, their lips almost touching. He started to remove his motion capture suit. “Anything for you, Hideo Kojima,” he said, low and soft. The words were hushed against Hideo Kojima’s throat, as Norman Reedus bent forward to shimmy the suit down.

They started slowly—the patches on Norman’s cheeks, the loose hairs dappling down the valley of his chest. Hideo Kojima's gaze crept down his stomach, the delicate happy trail there. He couldn't design the character of Sam Porter Bridges, post-apocalyptic courier, fast enough. The indie playlist he’d put on kept their mood serious, determined, and just a little sensual.

"Oh, you like that?" Norman Reedus asked, seeing the frenzied pace of Hideo Kojima's hands.

"Don't tease me," he begged, praying that he could create something as beautiful as the body hair of the man in front of him.

Hideo Kojima was flushed and shaking once he'd finished lovingly placing each hair upon Sam Porter Bridge's divinely inspired body, animating every strand with purpose and grace. He fell back in his chair, and Norman Reedus redid his mo-cap suit.

"I'm exhausted," Hideo Kojima said, looking over to Norman Reedus and smiling. "You really wore me out."

"Want a Monster Energy? I hear it can replenish your stamina," Norman Reedus offered, finally taking a seat, looking quietly satisfied.

"Ugh, no thanks!" Hideo Kojima said. Norman Reedus laughed, and Hideo Kojima joined him.

From across the animating table, they met each others eyes. Hideo Kojima had never felt closer to another human being. In those brief seconds before Hideo Kojima had to face the cruel world outside and his auteur prestige and his business calls with Monster Beverage Corporation's Monster Energy, it was just him and Norman Reedus.

They had done good work today.

They had done enough.