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scriveynerTitle: Broken Toys
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Gates'verse
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Kanata/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW
Length: 1044
Summary: They aren't the same at all.
It was weird being in Masayoshi’s apartment without Masayoshi. Gotou leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling where the shadows moved and flickered, the only illumination coming from the television set and the light on in the kitchen across the room. He was distracted from the actual program on the television by Kanata, who was sitting on his knees between Gotou’s legs, busily at work sucking his cock.
He should have known that Kanata had an ulterior motive. Masayoshi’s (presumably evil) time-line displaced twin often did, although those ulterior motives were mostly harmless ploys at getting busy more than anything. That was something Gotou could deal with.
Looking down into Masayoshi’s face as Kanata made an obscene noise, cheeks hollowed out and mouth full of Gotou, that … he wasn’t handling quite as well. Gotou tilted his head back again and covered his eyes with one hand, squeezing them closed and trying just to focus on sensation, nothing but that.
Kanata was good at this – had been good the first time, where Gotou had been shaky and uncertain, he’d never asked and Kanata had never offered. He mouthed down the side of Gotou’s cock, down to where his pants were open, and back up the other side, before swallowing him down again.
Gotou kept his eyes on the ceiling, tried not to distract himself with how much clumsier Masayoshi would be, where there would be the occasional unintentional scrape of teeth, where Masayoshi would be too eager and practically gag himself – and Kanata sighed heavily and lifted his head, Gotou’s cock sliding out between his bruised lips. “Do you even realize you’re doing that?” he asked, voice raw.
“What-?” Gotou said, breathless. “Doing what?”
Kanata braced his hand on Gotou’s thigh, eyes glimmering in the dimness, catching the florescence of the television set. “Masayoshi,” he said, voice higher, a breathless hitch inserted. Gotou made a sour face and Kanata matched it. “Pathetic,” he muttered in his regular voice, different than Masayoshi’s own.
“Sorry,” Gotou said and looked away, covering the bottom half of his face.
“You’re not,” Kanata said. It was the matter-of-fact tone that rankled more than the words, and Gotou shifted on the couch, moved to sit up. Kanata released his cock and Gotou moved to tuck it away but was stopped by Kanata climbing onto the couch, straddling his lap awkwardly, hands planted on the back of the couch so that he could look down into Gotou’s face. “It’s ridiculous how in love with him you are.” More matter-of-fact tone.
“I’m not-” Gotou started to say, and Kanata leaned in close. The shadows flickered across his face, highlighted the differences, and for a few moments he looked nothing like Masayoshi at all. Gotou looked away again, felt the pink flush start over his face. “I’m not in love with him.”
“So you’re using him, then.” Kanata moved his hips – he was wearing shorts and a hooded tee shirt, his ass was pressed against Gotou’s still erect cock, the thin material of his shorts hardly a barrier at all. “Be honest.”
“Why?” Gotou rested his hands on Kanata’s hips. “You’re not.”
Kanata’s face grew dark. “What,” he said, very calmly. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Gotou said, hands drifting down and squeezing Kanata’s ass. “That you don’t have any right to talk about who is using whom.”
“You are an asshole,” Kanata hissed, and leaned in and kissed him anyway.
Kanata pressed himself against the back of the couch, arms folded over the top of the cushions, making small noises into his arms. Gotou had one knee on the cushion behind him, trying best to balance them both – but Kanata was paying attention to little except the feeling of fullness that came from Gotou’s cock seated deep inside him.
“God,” Gotou said, hips moving steadily. “Fucking, hell-”
“My name,” Kanata gasped, pressing his face into his arms as a particularly strong thrust made his cock slap into his belly, leaving a slick clear trail. “My name-”
“Kanata,” Gotou said into his bare shoulders, one hand braced, fingers spread on his chest. Kanata moaned in satisfaction as that hand drifted locations, tweaked a nipple, skated down his torso. “Kanata, Kanata-”
He bit down the noise, the comment – or he tried to, the words escaped anyway, despite him. “That’s not my name,” he whispered into stifling air of the apartment.
Gotou heard him – he pulled Kanata back against him, bodies pressed together and his breath was hot against Kanata’s ear as he whispered in that same quiet, broken tone - “Masayoshi.”
Kanata sobbed, and came.
Masayoshi got in late – really late, to the point that it was technically early. He let himself in quietly – the main room of his apartment was dim, the only illumination coming from the television set. He smiled as he put his bag up – Gotou was sitting upright on the couch, Kanata slumped against him, head pillowed on his shoulder.
He ought to feel a little jealous, but they looked so peaceful he couldn’t fault them. Also, Gotou was seated in the middle of the couch, so – it gave him wiggle room. He sat down on the couch on the other side of Gotou and leaned into him as well, eyes drifting closed almost instantly.
Masayoshi jumped just a little when Gotou’s arm slid over his back, pulling his head closer to Gotou’s. “Welcome home,” Gotou murmured sleepily, and Masayoshi exhaled, content.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Gates'verse
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Kanata/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW
Length: 1044
Summary: They aren't the same at all.
It was weird being in Masayoshi’s apartment without Masayoshi. Gotou leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling where the shadows moved and flickered, the only illumination coming from the television set and the light on in the kitchen across the room. He was distracted from the actual program on the television by Kanata, who was sitting on his knees between Gotou’s legs, busily at work sucking his cock.
He should have known that Kanata had an ulterior motive. Masayoshi’s (presumably evil) time-line displaced twin often did, although those ulterior motives were mostly harmless ploys at getting busy more than anything. That was something Gotou could deal with.
Looking down into Masayoshi’s face as Kanata made an obscene noise, cheeks hollowed out and mouth full of Gotou, that … he wasn’t handling quite as well. Gotou tilted his head back again and covered his eyes with one hand, squeezing them closed and trying just to focus on sensation, nothing but that.
Kanata was good at this – had been good the first time, where Gotou had been shaky and uncertain, he’d never asked and Kanata had never offered. He mouthed down the side of Gotou’s cock, down to where his pants were open, and back up the other side, before swallowing him down again.
Gotou kept his eyes on the ceiling, tried not to distract himself with how much clumsier Masayoshi would be, where there would be the occasional unintentional scrape of teeth, where Masayoshi would be too eager and practically gag himself – and Kanata sighed heavily and lifted his head, Gotou’s cock sliding out between his bruised lips. “Do you even realize you’re doing that?” he asked, voice raw.
“What-?” Gotou said, breathless. “Doing what?”
Kanata braced his hand on Gotou’s thigh, eyes glimmering in the dimness, catching the florescence of the television set. “Masayoshi,” he said, voice higher, a breathless hitch inserted. Gotou made a sour face and Kanata matched it. “Pathetic,” he muttered in his regular voice, different than Masayoshi’s own.
“Sorry,” Gotou said and looked away, covering the bottom half of his face.
“You’re not,” Kanata said. It was the matter-of-fact tone that rankled more than the words, and Gotou shifted on the couch, moved to sit up. Kanata released his cock and Gotou moved to tuck it away but was stopped by Kanata climbing onto the couch, straddling his lap awkwardly, hands planted on the back of the couch so that he could look down into Gotou’s face. “It’s ridiculous how in love with him you are.” More matter-of-fact tone.
“I’m not-” Gotou started to say, and Kanata leaned in close. The shadows flickered across his face, highlighted the differences, and for a few moments he looked nothing like Masayoshi at all. Gotou looked away again, felt the pink flush start over his face. “I’m not in love with him.”
“So you’re using him, then.” Kanata moved his hips – he was wearing shorts and a hooded tee shirt, his ass was pressed against Gotou’s still erect cock, the thin material of his shorts hardly a barrier at all. “Be honest.”
“Why?” Gotou rested his hands on Kanata’s hips. “You’re not.”
Kanata’s face grew dark. “What,” he said, very calmly. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Gotou said, hands drifting down and squeezing Kanata’s ass. “That you don’t have any right to talk about who is using whom.”
“You are an asshole,” Kanata hissed, and leaned in and kissed him anyway.
Kanata pressed himself against the back of the couch, arms folded over the top of the cushions, making small noises into his arms. Gotou had one knee on the cushion behind him, trying best to balance them both – but Kanata was paying attention to little except the feeling of fullness that came from Gotou’s cock seated deep inside him.
“God,” Gotou said, hips moving steadily. “Fucking, hell-”
“My name,” Kanata gasped, pressing his face into his arms as a particularly strong thrust made his cock slap into his belly, leaving a slick clear trail. “My name-”
“Kanata,” Gotou said into his bare shoulders, one hand braced, fingers spread on his chest. Kanata moaned in satisfaction as that hand drifted locations, tweaked a nipple, skated down his torso. “Kanata, Kanata-”
He bit down the noise, the comment – or he tried to, the words escaped anyway, despite him. “That’s not my name,” he whispered into stifling air of the apartment.
Gotou heard him – he pulled Kanata back against him, bodies pressed together and his breath was hot against Kanata’s ear as he whispered in that same quiet, broken tone - “Masayoshi.”
Kanata sobbed, and came.
Masayoshi got in late – really late, to the point that it was technically early. He let himself in quietly – the main room of his apartment was dim, the only illumination coming from the television set. He smiled as he put his bag up – Gotou was sitting upright on the couch, Kanata slumped against him, head pillowed on his shoulder.
He ought to feel a little jealous, but they looked so peaceful he couldn’t fault them. Also, Gotou was seated in the middle of the couch, so – it gave him wiggle room. He sat down on the couch on the other side of Gotou and leaned into him as well, eyes drifting closed almost instantly.
Masayoshi jumped just a little when Gotou’s arm slid over his back, pulling his head closer to Gotou’s. “Welcome home,” Gotou murmured sleepily, and Masayoshi exhaled, content.
