![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scriveynerTitle: I Don't Believe in the Sun [14]
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Blind AU
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1511
Summary: "You're burning the chicken."
“You're burning the chicken,” Masayoshi said, seated on the bar stool, an open binder laying in front of him. Gotou had been distracted, rinsing a pot under the tap and he turned to check on the skillet where the meat had already gone from translucent pink to white. He prodded the meat around with his chopsticks, flipping some of the smaller chunks to show brown edges, sizzling as it cooked.
“It's not burnt,” he said crossly.
Masayoshi's head was up, but he wasn't facing in Gotou's direction, his fingers pressed to the page. “Well, something smells burnt,” he said.
“Nothing's burning,” Gotou said, checking everything to be certain. “Stop making me paranoid.” He turned down the heat on the skillet, expertly picking out the one actually blackened piece of chicken and binning it as subtly as possible. “You and your freaky … nose thing.” Gotou rinsed his hands under the tap again, looking over to the blank white page that Masayoshi was studiously hunched over. “How goes it?”
“It's difficult,” Masayoshi said with a sigh, lifting his fingers from the page. “First you have to know what each letter is, then construct the words in your head – you don't think about words letter by letter, it's just … slow.”
“At least it's something,” Gotou said, turning back to the skillet.
“I can't just sit around and feel sorry for myself,” Masayoshi said determinedly. “I have a lot to learn, and you're not always going to be there for me to rely on.”
“Yeah,” Gotou said softly, stirring the chicken and watching the oil bubble. “About that, 'yoshi....”
“You'll be going back to work soon, right?” Masayoshi touched the tab where he had been reading, folding the corner of the sheet of paper and then closed the binder. There was a catch to his voice that he couldn't quite hide, and Gotou looked up.
He would be going back to work soon, and … he didn't know how we would deal with that. He'd gotten used to just being around Masayoshi all the time, being the one to keep an eye on him for his own peace of mind. “Yeah,” Gotou said, felt the same weird tone in his voice, and watched Masayoshi smile and nod. There was no escaping the sad tinge to that smile.
Then Masayoshi's nose wrinkled again. “Something is definitely burning, Gotou-san,” he said, and Gotou turned back to the skillet with a snort.
#
It was a gloomy gray day – not that Masayoshi could see it. He could sense, though, the heaviness in the air, the mugginess even through the air conditioning. The smell of ozone, of rain and thunder would slip into the apartment behind Gotou when he came back in from smoking on the balcony, and for some reason it made Masayoshi itch all over. He wanted to move, to sweat, to do something.
He settled on working out. Masayoshi missed his daily jogs, but tried to at least do his kata – after ensuring the area in front of him was clear and that he wasn't too close to a wall. It helped him focus a little – he was aware that Gotou had stopped washing dishes and was watching him quietly, but didn't mind so much.
“Hey, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, standing half-naked and breathing quickly. “Come hold my feet, I want to do some sit-ups.”
Masayoshi didn't really need him to – and he was expecting to get caught in the lie, that Gotou had noticed him doing sit-ups without any weight on his feet – but instead he heard Gotou take a deep shaky breath, say, “okay, sure,” and Masayoshi grinned despite himself.
He was soon distracted though by the actual exercise – Gotou's weight on his feet, holding his legs together – every time he curled up he would catch a whiff of Gotou's scent, it inspired him to go faster. Somewhere around the time that he'd lost count of where he was at, chest heaving, sweat-soaked, Gotou caught him by the back of the neck as he curled up, held him there and kissed him.
Masayoshi startled against him, both hands coming to shove Gotou off, he was sticky and gross and sweaty, but Gotou kept kissing him hungrily and Masayoshi finally wrenched away gasping. He flailed backwards, landing flat on his back and the breath almost knocked out of him as Gotou pressed his legs apart and crawled over Masayoshi, turning his face up and kissing him again. Masayoshi put both hands on Gotou's chest – warm and broad through the tee shirt he was wearing – and braced himself, didn't shove Gotou off, gasping against his mouth until Gotou finally pulled away.
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi was breathless, chest heaving, and he felt Gotou brush his hand back into Masayoshi's bangs, pushing them from his forehead.
All at once Gotou seemed to realize what he was doing, on the living room floor and he started to pull up and away. “S-sorry, Masayoshi, I-”
Masayoshi dragged at his tee shirt, yanking him back down and Gotou let out a little surprised noise the weight, falling back across Masayoshi. Masayoshi found Gotou's forehead with his own, their heads clunking together slightly, and Gotou made another surprised noise as Masayoshi's mouth honed in on target.
“More,” Masayoshi gasped against his mouth, heart hammering in his chest. It felt like there was electricity under his skin, that the weight of Gotou pressing him into the floor was going to make him come alive in a way he'd never thought possible, Gotou made a noise he didn't quite understand, and shifted his weight so he wasn't pressed fully over Masayoshi's groin. He let out a little whine as the pressure released, and he didn't even realize that he'd started to get hard until he felt Gotou's hand press over the outside of his shorts.
Now he was definitely hard.
Masayoshi tilted his head in, tried to find Gotou's again as Gotou felt out the shape of him through his shorts. Gotou was breathing funny, Masayoshi could hear the way his breath kept hitching and he flopped back, accepting that Gotou was out of range at the moment. He rolled his hips against the pressure of Gotou's hand, and made a soft moaning noise when Gotou squeezed him, again through his shorts.
Gotou said, voice heavy - “You want me to...?”
“Yes,” Masayoshi hissed before he could even finish the question. “Yes, Gotou-san, please-”
Fingers slipping into the waistband of his shorts, tugging gently down, and Masayoshi felt the cooler air of the apartment against himself for a few seconds before, hesitatingly, Gotou's fingers brushed over the head. Masayoshi's hips almost came up off the floor and Gotou made an amused noise, entire hand circling him now, stroking.
This was – so different from the way he touched himself in the shower, trying just to get the nervous tension out, this was slow and considerate and almost teasing. Masayoshi made a small noise, almost a whimper, and Gotou stopped, and no, no-
“Masayoshi,” Gotou's breath ghosted across his face, and Masayoshi grabbed at him, catching his head with both hands, dragging it down and kissing him again. “Don't stop,” he said when they both surfaced, and Gotou made a low, hungry noise that ought to scare him but really it just set something exciting off in his gut.
“I'm going to,” Gotou said, shifting – he can't quite escape Masayoshi's hands on his head, holding him, but he felt Gotou shift over his body, and then his hand tentatively touched Masayoshi again and he closed his eyes, moaned... and then there's something else touching him, something hot and unfamiliar, silky and hard and wet and his mouth fell open. “Okay?” Gotou asked, voice gone raw as he squeezed them together in one hand.
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi managed, somehow – and then they're kissing again, sloppy and desperate as Gotou stroked them both, cocks pressed together, wetness spilling from them slicking his hand, down Masayoshi's stomach. It was so good, Masayoshi couldn't breathe properly or think, and then it was like all the tension in his body snapped and he was coming, hot and sticky, across Gotou's hand.
Orgasm was a flare of white, bright like the sun bursting. Masayoshi flopped his arm over his face as he sank back into the soft darkness, panting openly. He heard Gotou shift, sit back – somewhere in the darkness away, but close enough that Masayoshi wasn't scared he'd run, this time.
“Holy shit,” Gotou said, voice uneven, and Masayoshi let out a breath that may have been a laugh.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Blind AU
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1511
Summary: "You're burning the chicken."
“You're burning the chicken,” Masayoshi said, seated on the bar stool, an open binder laying in front of him. Gotou had been distracted, rinsing a pot under the tap and he turned to check on the skillet where the meat had already gone from translucent pink to white. He prodded the meat around with his chopsticks, flipping some of the smaller chunks to show brown edges, sizzling as it cooked.
“It's not burnt,” he said crossly.
Masayoshi's head was up, but he wasn't facing in Gotou's direction, his fingers pressed to the page. “Well, something smells burnt,” he said.
“Nothing's burning,” Gotou said, checking everything to be certain. “Stop making me paranoid.” He turned down the heat on the skillet, expertly picking out the one actually blackened piece of chicken and binning it as subtly as possible. “You and your freaky … nose thing.” Gotou rinsed his hands under the tap again, looking over to the blank white page that Masayoshi was studiously hunched over. “How goes it?”
“It's difficult,” Masayoshi said with a sigh, lifting his fingers from the page. “First you have to know what each letter is, then construct the words in your head – you don't think about words letter by letter, it's just … slow.”
“At least it's something,” Gotou said, turning back to the skillet.
“I can't just sit around and feel sorry for myself,” Masayoshi said determinedly. “I have a lot to learn, and you're not always going to be there for me to rely on.”
“Yeah,” Gotou said softly, stirring the chicken and watching the oil bubble. “About that, 'yoshi....”
“You'll be going back to work soon, right?” Masayoshi touched the tab where he had been reading, folding the corner of the sheet of paper and then closed the binder. There was a catch to his voice that he couldn't quite hide, and Gotou looked up.
He would be going back to work soon, and … he didn't know how we would deal with that. He'd gotten used to just being around Masayoshi all the time, being the one to keep an eye on him for his own peace of mind. “Yeah,” Gotou said, felt the same weird tone in his voice, and watched Masayoshi smile and nod. There was no escaping the sad tinge to that smile.
Then Masayoshi's nose wrinkled again. “Something is definitely burning, Gotou-san,” he said, and Gotou turned back to the skillet with a snort.
It was a gloomy gray day – not that Masayoshi could see it. He could sense, though, the heaviness in the air, the mugginess even through the air conditioning. The smell of ozone, of rain and thunder would slip into the apartment behind Gotou when he came back in from smoking on the balcony, and for some reason it made Masayoshi itch all over. He wanted to move, to sweat, to do something.
He settled on working out. Masayoshi missed his daily jogs, but tried to at least do his kata – after ensuring the area in front of him was clear and that he wasn't too close to a wall. It helped him focus a little – he was aware that Gotou had stopped washing dishes and was watching him quietly, but didn't mind so much.
“Hey, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, standing half-naked and breathing quickly. “Come hold my feet, I want to do some sit-ups.”
Masayoshi didn't really need him to – and he was expecting to get caught in the lie, that Gotou had noticed him doing sit-ups without any weight on his feet – but instead he heard Gotou take a deep shaky breath, say, “okay, sure,” and Masayoshi grinned despite himself.
He was soon distracted though by the actual exercise – Gotou's weight on his feet, holding his legs together – every time he curled up he would catch a whiff of Gotou's scent, it inspired him to go faster. Somewhere around the time that he'd lost count of where he was at, chest heaving, sweat-soaked, Gotou caught him by the back of the neck as he curled up, held him there and kissed him.
Masayoshi startled against him, both hands coming to shove Gotou off, he was sticky and gross and sweaty, but Gotou kept kissing him hungrily and Masayoshi finally wrenched away gasping. He flailed backwards, landing flat on his back and the breath almost knocked out of him as Gotou pressed his legs apart and crawled over Masayoshi, turning his face up and kissing him again. Masayoshi put both hands on Gotou's chest – warm and broad through the tee shirt he was wearing – and braced himself, didn't shove Gotou off, gasping against his mouth until Gotou finally pulled away.
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi was breathless, chest heaving, and he felt Gotou brush his hand back into Masayoshi's bangs, pushing them from his forehead.
All at once Gotou seemed to realize what he was doing, on the living room floor and he started to pull up and away. “S-sorry, Masayoshi, I-”
Masayoshi dragged at his tee shirt, yanking him back down and Gotou let out a little surprised noise the weight, falling back across Masayoshi. Masayoshi found Gotou's forehead with his own, their heads clunking together slightly, and Gotou made another surprised noise as Masayoshi's mouth honed in on target.
“More,” Masayoshi gasped against his mouth, heart hammering in his chest. It felt like there was electricity under his skin, that the weight of Gotou pressing him into the floor was going to make him come alive in a way he'd never thought possible, Gotou made a noise he didn't quite understand, and shifted his weight so he wasn't pressed fully over Masayoshi's groin. He let out a little whine as the pressure released, and he didn't even realize that he'd started to get hard until he felt Gotou's hand press over the outside of his shorts.
Now he was definitely hard.
Masayoshi tilted his head in, tried to find Gotou's again as Gotou felt out the shape of him through his shorts. Gotou was breathing funny, Masayoshi could hear the way his breath kept hitching and he flopped back, accepting that Gotou was out of range at the moment. He rolled his hips against the pressure of Gotou's hand, and made a soft moaning noise when Gotou squeezed him, again through his shorts.
Gotou said, voice heavy - “You want me to...?”
“Yes,” Masayoshi hissed before he could even finish the question. “Yes, Gotou-san, please-”
Fingers slipping into the waistband of his shorts, tugging gently down, and Masayoshi felt the cooler air of the apartment against himself for a few seconds before, hesitatingly, Gotou's fingers brushed over the head. Masayoshi's hips almost came up off the floor and Gotou made an amused noise, entire hand circling him now, stroking.
This was – so different from the way he touched himself in the shower, trying just to get the nervous tension out, this was slow and considerate and almost teasing. Masayoshi made a small noise, almost a whimper, and Gotou stopped, and no, no-
“Masayoshi,” Gotou's breath ghosted across his face, and Masayoshi grabbed at him, catching his head with both hands, dragging it down and kissing him again. “Don't stop,” he said when they both surfaced, and Gotou made a low, hungry noise that ought to scare him but really it just set something exciting off in his gut.
“I'm going to,” Gotou said, shifting – he can't quite escape Masayoshi's hands on his head, holding him, but he felt Gotou shift over his body, and then his hand tentatively touched Masayoshi again and he closed his eyes, moaned... and then there's something else touching him, something hot and unfamiliar, silky and hard and wet and his mouth fell open. “Okay?” Gotou asked, voice gone raw as he squeezed them together in one hand.
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi managed, somehow – and then they're kissing again, sloppy and desperate as Gotou stroked them both, cocks pressed together, wetness spilling from them slicking his hand, down Masayoshi's stomach. It was so good, Masayoshi couldn't breathe properly or think, and then it was like all the tension in his body snapped and he was coming, hot and sticky, across Gotou's hand.
Orgasm was a flare of white, bright like the sun bursting. Masayoshi flopped his arm over his face as he sank back into the soft darkness, panting openly. He heard Gotou shift, sit back – somewhere in the darkness away, but close enough that Masayoshi wasn't scared he'd run, this time.
“Holy shit,” Gotou said, voice uneven, and Masayoshi let out a breath that may have been a laugh.
