Samurai Flamenco - Midnight Snack [Gotoyoshi]

Title: Midnight Snack
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 3464
Summary: “Your headbutt is like getting smashed in the face by a brick,” Gotou said. “You’ve been hit in the head so many times it’s changed the core density of your skull.”

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It had been six months, and Masayoshi had never said another word about it since. Gotou tapped the button on his mouse idly, chin in hand as he scrolled the news website, not really looking at anything in particular. He wondered sometimes if he had really meant it, what he had shouted in the burned-out husk of his apartment, intent on bringing Gotou back to himself – but he knew that of course Masayoshi meant them. He was an idiot to be sure, but he was far too earnest and straightforward for his own good. The days following Sawada's arrest and his own suspension had been a bit of a whirlwind; so he didn't have the chance to see Masayoshi for a few days and by the time they were able to reconnect, the moment seemed to have been lost.

Gotou had dismissed the words as a joke at the time, it was ridiculous. He wasn't gay – he had a girlfriend! He glanced over at his phone with the thought – a new smart phone, it was much nicer than any phone he'd had previously – and then back to his computer. The words niggled in his ear, resting in that quiet space that bordered on the subconscious. She wouldn't mind.

It was all so ridiculous. He closed out all the windows on his desktop and swiveled in his chair, hands braced on his knees as he glared off into space. The entire THING was ridiculous, and what was worse was that he had been dwelling on this, on all of this, for six months. Masayoshi hadn't mentioned it again; to be fair though he'd been pretty busy, trying very hard to get out of the 'President of the World' business and doing various publicity events – they hadn't had a whole lot of time just to hang out and the times they did, usually one of them was so exhausted that it had never been brought up.

He was unsure if he even wanted to bring it up. It was very possible that Masayoshi had even forgotten what he said. And then there was her to consider, too.... Gotou turned back around, drummed his fingers on his desk, picked up his phone and put it down again.

Eventually he would work up the courage to compose the text. It wasn't the actual act of sending the text he was terrified of … it was the response that he would get in return. He knew in his heart, in that part of his psyche he had so neatly compartmentalized away that the answer would come from within, as her replies always did … but if anything, that made the terror just that more precise.

Gotou rubbed his forehead and sighed, loudly. Totsuka looked up from his own work, a severe expression on his face and Gotou turned around to his computer quickly. If he was going to have an emotional crisis, it could at least wait until his shift was over. It had waited six months, six more hours wouldn't kill him.

#

The knock came at quarter after midnight. Gotou hadn't settled in to bed just yet, but he had been drifting so he wasn't quite awake anymore either. He opened the door blearily, not bothering to check first because there was only one person who would randomly show up without notice – and sure enough Masayoshi was standing outside, looking far too perky and holding a plastic bag from the corner convenience store. He meant to speak in a full sentence, but all that tumbled out was a gruff “What?”

“I had a late shoot,” Masayoshi said cheerfully. If he was put off by Gotou's tone he didn't show it, and in fact steamrollered right over it. “I brought some snacks, also Mari took over my hotel room so I thought it would be safer over here tonight, if that's all right.”

Gotou stood aside and let Masayoshi in, scrubbing a hand through his hair and yawning, the implications of the words setting in only after he closed the door and threw the lock.

“Why has Mari taken over your hotel room?” Gotou asked, refusing to let the strange sudden fuzziness in the pit of his stomach get the better of him. “What did you do now, I thought they were on tour.”

“I didn't do anything,” Masayoshi complained. “It's not my fault!” He sat down beside the low table Gotou ate at and started pawing through the plastic bag, refusing to meet Gotou's eyes. “She just thinks I'm sneaking out at night and not inviting the Flamenco Girls.”

“That's exactly what you're doing,” Gotou said flatly. “I saw you two nights ago.”

“I'm not sneaking,” Masayoshi said. He opened a bag of chips and held it out to Gotou, but Gotou shook his head. “You would think my apartment would be repaired by now,” he said mournfully, as if that would solve his problem of being stalked by an only slightly malevolent magical girl.

There was a brief moment of silence – the television was on low, Gotou hadn't really been watching it but Masayoshi's eyes had been drawn to the movement and light – and Gotou scratched the back of his head. “Are you really staying for the night? I only have the bed.”

Being sleepy did not help his filter, and he hadn't meant to ask it in that tone – but thankfully Masayoshi had the good graces to color slightly at the words. He didn't doubt at all that Mari had taken over Masayoshi's hotel room as a sign of protest, but his intentions seemed a little blurry.

“If it's – if I’m not bothering you, am I? I brought a sleeping roll, but I can always go back, try to make her leave, it's not that big of a deal-” Masayoshi but his hands on his knees, flustered, it was slightly alarming how endearing Gotou found that. He started to get up, but Gotou beat him to it, and pushed him back down into a seated position.

“It's not an imposition, we'll just shove the table out of the way,” he said. “I've probably got some spare pillows stashed away; it's not much, I know you're used to a big bed.” He didn't quite have his back to Masayoshi, so he caught the head-turn as Masayoshi glanced at Gotou's bed behind him. There was a strange expression on Masayoshi's face, and Gotou tried to ignore the way that made a shiver shoot down his back. He couldn't possibly be that forward.

But, time and again Masayoshi had surprised him. Why should right now be any different?

Gotou paused at the closet's door as he realized that Mari had never come by to retrieve her things; and that the pillows and spare blankets would all smell like her since he had never gotten around to washing them. He doubted Masayoshi would care, but it unsettled him, and he heard Masayoshi get to his feet behind him.

Instinct had him already turning when Masayoshi stopped directly behind him – maybe a little closer than was usually comfortable. He was still flushed – flustered, even – despite being taller than Gotou he had this strangely adorable way of folding in on himself and making himself seem small and defenseless. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was a hero, to look at his body language.

“I don't need your help, they're just pillows-” Gotou started to say – Masayoshi was in his personal space, but he was comfortable with it, it felt right – just as it felt right when Masayoshi (still bright red, too, god-) leaned in and very delicately kissed him.

It was clear how little experience he had by the chasteness of the kiss. He must have been working himself up to this for weeks, Gotou thought, a little dazedly as Masayoshi backed off, even redder than he had been thirty seconds prior. Gotou blinked a few times, and then covered his mouth with his hand, considering.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Masayoshi abruptly wailed, grabbed his satchel in one hand, and bolted for the door.

He was damn fast, too – the only reason Gotou caught him was because he had to stop to unlock the door first. Gotou grabbed Masayoshi's arm and spun him. Off-balance and surprised, Masayoshi bounced back into the door, dropping his satchel and eyes wide. “What the hell,” Gotou said, that fuzziness back in his gut, a strange warmth that he had been ignoring for weeks. “What the hell was that?”

“I'm sorry,” Masayoshi didn't wail this time, he ducked his head and wouldn't meet Gotou's eye, his gaze fixed on the umbrella stand. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just-”

“Was that your first kiss?” Gotou demanded.

That drew Masayoshi's eyes back to his. “What? No-” he said, almost offended.

“Coulda fooled me,” Gotou said, and kissed him before Masayoshi could react.

He had more experience in this, at least – enough so that when he finally let Masayoshi up for air he couldn't be certain if the reason why he was so red was the kiss, or the fact that he was gasping for air like a fish out of water. “Six months you've left me hanging, and for what? That sorry excuse for a kiss?”

Masayoshi glared at him, breathing hard. “I've been busy,” he said defensively, like Gotou didn't know that. “Besides, you acted, it was like I insulted you, before-” There was no way biologically possible for him to turn any darker crimson, he matched his suit now as it was. “I didn't want to screw anything up,” he muttered.

“Idiot,” Gotou said, and kissed him again.

#

That warm feeling was back with reinforcements – building up out of his stomach and settling in a strange, warm knot just under his lungs. Gotou blinked – Masayoshi was under him on the bed, his hair disheveled and looking up at Gotou with wide eyes. It took a moment for him to reassess – it felt like he had lost time, getting from the hallway to the bed, the two of them nearly tripping over the table, getting his shirt off and Masayoshi's pants open.

“Are we,” Masayoshi asked, his long fingers curled in the sheets. He was breathing hard and watching Gotou intently, several dark marks sucked onto his neck. With a start Gotou realized that Ishihara was going to straight-up murder him later, those were not going to be easy to hide. It seemed like he had dazed Masayoshi but good, he couldn't quite get the question out. “Are we, are we-?”

Gotou curled his hands into fists, braced apart on the mattress on either side of Masayoshi's head. “Do you want to?” It took a moment to recognize his own voice, winded and husky, the taste of Masayoshi's skin on his breath. The changing light of the television moved his shadow around on the wall beside them, constantly flickering just out of the corner of his eye.

Masayoshi grabbed at him, but he wasn't wearing a shirt any longer – that had been thrown off somewhere in their haste to fall into Gotou's bed, so Masayoshi gripped Gotou's shoulder instead. He had a grip like iron, it was all Gotou could do not to wince, but Masayoshi dragged Gotou down on top of him and ground his hips up, desperately, into Gotou's own.

It was like fireworks went off in his gut. Gotou gasped despite himself, he didn't care how undignified it sounded and Masayoshi groaned. “Who's the virgin now,” Masayoshi said and Gotou shoved at his face with one hand. As Masayoshi laughed Gotou shoved his other hand down Masayoshi's pants, and his laugh cut out fast, replaced with a low breathy noise.

“Still you,” Gotou growled, fingers closing around his length and squeezing. He leaned in close and watched Masayoshi squirm. “Though not for very much longer.”

“Good,” Masayoshi responded, and dragged his hands down Gotou's back.

#

It was a little bit challenging trying to get things situated, because apparently Masayoshi was a wriggler, and the strangest bit ticklish. Gotou put his head down on Masayoshi's shoulder as Masayoshi giggled into the pillow. “Why are you so ticklish,” he groaned, half exasperated and half amused.

“N-no,” Masayoshi bit out, tears streaked down his cheeks from laughing. “No one's touched me there, like that, I didn't know-” Gotou draped his body over Masayoshi's and sighed, before proceeding to tickle him further and with deliberate malice. Masayoshi practically howled into the pillows and Gotou was grinning ear to ear – the realization that he hadn't been this at ease with anyone in ages came and went quickly. There were other more important things to be preoccupied with, like being naked and rolling around in twisted sheets while searching for new ticklish spots to blow on, all the while fending off retaliatory hands. This was wonderful, and comfortable, and then Masayoshi jerked his head back and cracked it directly into Gotou's jaw. He rolled off of Masayoshi, who was at the same time still laughing, hiccuping, and apologizing.

After a few moments of flail, including bruising his shins for the second time that night on the low table, they ended up sitting side-by-side, naked on the floor. Gotou held ice wrapped in a dishtowel to his quickly-bruising jaw, and Masayoshi falling over himself to apologize again and again. “Your headbutt is like getting smashed in the face by a brick,” Gotou said. “You've been hit in the head so many times it's changed the core density of your skull.”

“I'm sorry,” Masayoshi said, the edge of dejection in his voice. Gotou grabbed him by the hair and yanked him close – he yelped a bit, but they knocked heads – albeit gently, this time.

“Idiot,” Gotou said affectionately. Masayoshi smiled a little, and Gotou sighed, relaxing back against the bed. “And here I was, looking forward to getting laid,” he said, lifting the ice off his jaw. “Our luck is horrible. How does it look?”

“Like you lost a fight with a street sign,” Masayoshi said with a sigh.

“Nah, I've seen you lose a fight with a street sign, at least my blood is still in my body.” Gotou rubbed his jaw and winced just a little. Masayoshi leaned over and pulled Gotou's hand away, and then very gently kissed the bruise. Gotou shivered a bit, the touch wicked through his nerves like electricity. Then Masayoshi kissed him again, a little further down. Gotou tilted his head back, and let Masayoshi explore his jaw and neck with tongue and teeth and lips, a little surprised at the initiative he was showing – but, Masayoshi did like to surprise him.

Especially when he swung himself over Gotou's lap, staring down between them with intensity as he cautiously pressed their naked cocks together with his hand. Gotou swallowed, sliding his arm over Masayoshi's shoulders to better stabilize him and tilting his head down to watch as well.

The strokes were a little uneven, and sometimes he squeezed a bit too hard – but Gotou was only half watching Masayoshi's hand, and was instead watching his face. Masayoshi wore a look of such intense concentration – he was focusing his all on this task and that same warmth that Gotou had become aware of finally finished its journey, settling right between his lungs in the center of his chest.

He was getting overheated quickly. It had been only his hand that had touched him for years now – this stimulus was proving to be too much. Gotou licked his lips, staring at Masayoshi. “You know,” he said breathlessly, “you never asked me again.”

“Asked you,” Masayoshi repeated, concentrating more on the task at hand. “Asked you...?”

The rest of his query was lost in a jumble of words as Gotou came. The orgasm startled both of them – Gotou wasn't aware of how close to the edge he was, his arm tightened over Masayoshi's shoulders as he jerked, and Masayoshi jumped in surprise. He rocked back, unsure, and Gotou followed him, his hands landing on Masayoshi's cock. Hurt jaw or not, he wasn't going to let Masayoshi show him up like that, so after a split second's psyche-up, he lowered his mouth onto Masayoshi.

Masayoshi howled, put his hand in Gotou's hair and gasped about how that wasn't right, that wasn't sanitary, he was DIRTY there- but he wasn't able to stand against the heat of Gotou's mouth and soon he had Masayoshi sobbing for him as he came. Masayoshi slumped back, bumping against the table and stared with a glazed expression at the ceiling. “Just imagine how good it'll be,” Gotou rumbled, “next time we do this.”

Masayoshi grinned at the thought.

#

Gotou tucked Masayoshi into his bed and retrieved pants, before going out the front door to smoke. This time of the night it was mostly quiet outside, the muted sounds of city traffic almost indistinct. He exhaled smoke and shifted, watching it disperse into the night air.

He actually was in love with the idiot in his bed. What the hell was he going to do? He had been trying his damnedest to stay out of the slowly-enveloping circle of weird that followed Masayoshi like a tail, but he hadn't been very successful with that anyway. And, stranger still … he didn't feel unfaithful.

The door clicked, and Masayoshi leaned outside. “Come to bed,” he whined, and Gotou turned to eye him severely. At least he had thought to put his pants on before leaning out the door – although, with no underwear and unbuttoned Gotou's eyes were drawn to the bulge of his flaccid cock, visible through the gap in his pants.

That view should be criminal. Gotou coughed, stabbed out his cigarette, and complied.

Later, with Masayoshi curled up against him in his now too-small bed, Gotou felt at peace. “You never did ask me again,” he murmured drowsily, and Masayoshi cracked open an eyelid.

“I didn't want to ask unless you're gonna say yes,” he said, and yawned. “I don't deal well with disappointment.”

“You don't deal with disappointment at all, you just ignore it until you get the results you wanted in the first place.” Gotou said, but his tone was teasing. He buried his face in the crown of Masayoshi's hair. “Besides, the answer is yes anyway. But you already knew that, didn't you?”

Masayoshi lifted his head. “Of course I knew it,” he said. “I was just waiting for you to catch up, you're always running behind.” He laughed as Gotou pinched him, and then shoved Gotou back, settling his head against Gotou's chest. “Now shut up, I gotta get up early to get to a conference thing.”

Gotou waited until Masayoshi's breaths evened out, and then he stretched, reaching for the phone setting on his bed stand. He swiped the unlock screen and hesitated, but the light from the phone didn't even make Masayoshi twitch. He scanned down the list until he found the unread text, and tapped it.

I don’t mind, silly, the text read. Yoshi’s good for you, he’ll keep your feet on the ground. Besides, you love him … don’t you?

Gotou smiled, typing his one-word reply before setting the phone down. He wrapped his arms around Masayoshi and was drifting off before he knew it.