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scriveynerTitle: One Bedroom
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 8516
Summary:
Sometimes it was better to show up late, rather than early — at least, where King Torture’s monsters were concerned.
Sure, Gotou wanted to make certain that Masayoshi was okay and unharmed, and the idiot would do all sorts of stupidly heroic things when trying to fight the monsters … but, when he was running late at least he didn’t have to deal with nearly plowing into the monster on his bicycle and almost going over the handlebars at the abrupt stop.
“Gotou-san!” Masayoshi yelled from across the parking-lot-turned-battlefield. “Duck!”
Duck? Gotou looked up at the monster, registered Masayoshi’s words, and flung himself immediately off the bike. The creature made a strange honking noise and belched a sickly green flame that washed over his abandoned bicycle. Gotou stumbled backward and away, the smell of rotten eggs overpowering.
There would be time for sorting all of this out later — when he was elbow-deep in paperwork and regretting ever rescuing a certain naked would-be hero from an alley — but right now he was in direct contact with one of King Torture’s monsters, so Gotou pulled his gun from its holster and aimed it at the large mash-up creature.
The rotten egg smell got stronger as the monster turned to face him, and before Gotou could think to move again, it belched more green fire at him. Gotou flung his arms up over his head to try and protect himself — but the flames that licked over his arms weren’t hot. He heard Masayoshi yell, and suddenly the monster was wheeling around to face Masayoshi, its stubby arms waving frantically.
Gotou lifted his arms and checked himself — he wasn’t burned, thankfully — but when he moved to straighten he felt the vertigo slam into him like a wave cresting on the beach, and it knocked him down to one knee.
The creature gave another loud honking noise and he looked up sharply, in time to see it explode like all of King Torture’s monsters before it. Masayoshi stood on the other side, ridiculous office-supply weapon in hand, in a somewhat cool pose. Gotou rubbed his hand over his mouth and thought, I didn’t just think that.
“Gotou-san!” Masayoshi yelled, running over to him, his scarf trailing out behind him like a tail. “Gotou-san, are you—”
“I’m fine!” Gotou said, waving Masayoshi off. “It didn’t do anything to me, I’m not hurt.” Just a little woozy. “What the hell was that, this time?” Gotou looked around, surprised that the Flamenco Girls weren’t present, and Mari wasn’t three steps away from him in his uniform. “Is it just you, today?”
“The Flamenco Girls are out of town,” Masayoshi said, grabbing Gotou by the elbow despite being waved off, and helping to pull him to his feet. Gotou wobbled for a split second, but caught himself. “Are you sure you’re all right, Gotou-san? You seem … pale.”
“I’m fine,” Gotou toed his bicycle — it seemed fine, too. “That thing fucking stank like a septic tank though.”
Masayoshi took off his helmet and held it in both hands. When Gotou looked over at him, he saw the wet streak of blood down the side of his face and felt his heart seize up in worry. He also noticed how Masayoshi’s hair went everywhere, sweat-soaked and still poofy from being confined in the helmet. Sex hair, Gotou thought to himself, amused.
“Amorous Armadillo-san didn’t smell,” Masayoshi said, clearly confused.
“Amorous…? No, I don’t want to know,” Gotou waved that off. “And it did, that thing smelled like freaking rotten eggs, don’t mess with me.” Gotou stood his bicycle upright. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not messing with you!” Masayoshi said indignantly. “I didn’t smell anything!”
“Great, so I got fire farted on me by the world’s gassiest minion and the only other person present doesn’t believe me,” Gotou said. “Fantastic. Beautiful start to the weekend.”
Masayoshi stared at him. “Gotou-san, are you certain that you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said with a sigh, then stared at Masayoshi. “What about you, you’re the one who’s bleeding!”
“I’m not—” Masayoshi said, then touched the side of his face, tacky with blood. “Okay, maybe I am a little,” he amended. “I just got rattled around some, I’m okay.”
“I bet you’re not, let me see,” Gotou said, and Masayoshi took a large step back, holding his helmet out in front of himself protectively. “Shouldn’t you put that back on, I thought you were trying to keep your identity a secret?”
“Oh,” Masayoshi said, and looked around furtively before pulling the helmet back on and securing his goggles. “Right!”
#
Whenever one of King Torture’s minions showed up — and was defeated (100% of the time by self-destructing) — there was always a debriefing session held afterwards. More often than not this session was held in Masayoshi’s apartment, where they could go over the footage taken by the body camera Harazuka had integrated into Masayoshi’s armor. They would look for clues into the nature of the creature, try to theorize a better battle plan, speculate about the origin of King Torture and where these monsters were even coming from, and Gotou would work up his report.
This was how the evening usually went, but Gotou felt weird this time. He couldn’t quantify the weirdness — Masayoshi’s apartment was strangely comfortable to him, he’d been here many times now, and it would make sense that he had become comfortable with his surroundings — and he drank a few more of the beers that he had stashed in Masayoshi’s fridge to compensate for this. He sat on the couch beside Masayoshi as Harazuka stood and kept talking about the science behind King Torture’s monsters — and Gotou glanced slyly over to Masayoshi, eyes darting over him, sitting on the edge of the cushion, leaned forward and attention completely on Harazuka. He seemed cool and controlled (although, Gotou had to acknowledge, those were two words he usually didn’t associate with Masayoshi), and Gotou wondered not for the first time what it would be like to kiss him.
The thought came out of nowhere, and Gotou blushed.
Masayoshi noticed too, damn him. “Are you okay, Gotou-san?” he asked, attention shifted from Harazuka to Gotou. “You’re a little flushed.”
“I’m not—” I’m not okay, I keep having weird thoughts about you, and I’m 100% sure that’s your fault. “I’m fine,” he lied after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s just the alcohol.”
Masayoshi’s face was concerned, and Gotou sat back on the couch and forced himself to ignore it. Harazuka though, had seized upon the moment as well. “You did have prolonged contact with the gas secreting from the creature,” Harazuka said. “Perhaps it’s affecting you, I should run some tests.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gotou said, professional voice on now because he was Not Dealing With This Tonight. “I’m perfectly fine.” They were both staring at him now, which was distinctly not okay, but Gotou tried his best to look normal and not stressed out. After a moment Masayoshi looked to Harazuka and asked a question about one of his new weapons, and that took the attention off of Gotou and he exhaled, relieved.
The rest of the evening progressed as usual — Masayoshi getting hyper excited about something Harazuka fed into, and Gotou sat on the couch and sipped his beer, watching the feedback loop as they encouraged each other. The distraction of watching them was quite welcome, because it quieted the strange buzzing in his head; and if he watched the two of them, it kept him from focusing on Masayoshi and just staring at him.
Masayoshi had a bandage on now, a patch on his temple that covered the scrape. It had bled horribly for a bit, as head wounds were wont to do, but once he was patched up and cleaned up he was clearly mostly unhurt. All the same, he was way too perky for the lateness of the hour, and had far, far too much energy for someone who had just been fighting for their life against a genetically mutated monster armadillo that was sent specifically to cause havoc.
“Gotou-san?” Masayoshi asked, and Gotou took a quick pull of his beer, having once again been caught staring. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re both insane,” he said, because that was the safe response. Masayoshi pouted at him, and Harazuka laughed.
#
It was late — almost to midnight, when Harazuka finally packed up and left, his bag of tricks slung over his shoulder. Gotou was half-dozing on the couch, having had just a hair too much to drink. He woke up a little when Masayoshi saw Harazuka off, and then came back across the large open space of the apartment to stand in front of the couch, his hands on his hips. “You’ve been acting weird all night,” he complained to the barely-awake Gotou.
“I have an excuse,” Gotou mumbled, and ran his hand over his face, awake now, regretfully.
“You do,” Masayoshi agreed. “But you should have let Harazuka-san check you out! What if it makes you sick or gives you—” Masayoshi’s eyes got wide here, “—powers, or something. What if it turns you into one of King Torture’s monsters, that would be horrible!”
“I’m not gonna turn into one of King Torture’s minions,” Gotou said, although now that Masayoshi had introduced the idea, the thought was going to fester. “And I’m fine. Harazuka isn’t an actual doctor, he’s just an inventor, anyway, I don’t need him poking me with weird shit. I probably just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be okay.” Speaking of that, Gotou glanced at the couch, then back to Masayoshi. “You really don’t mind if I crash out on the couch tonight?”
“Not at all!” Masayoshi said cheerfully. “You’re welcome to sleep in the bed with me if you want, in fact — it’s huge, there’s plenty of room…”
Gotou stared at Masayoshi. He turned pink before he could stop himself, and Masayoshi blushed in response, confused. “…what?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine on the couch,” Gotou said, words tumbling out in a rush because in all the times he’d stayed over Masayoshi had never offered him that. “It’s better than under the table, yanno?”
“Yeah,” Masayoshi said slowly, looking at him weird. There were several moments of uncomfortable silence between them, and Masayoshi shifted on his feet. “I have an episode I taped from today of Ensemble! that I want to watch before bed, would that bother you?”
“Nah,” Gotou said, grateful for the very clear escape from the awkwardness of this current conversation. “Put it on.”
#
It was an effort to pay attention to the show. Gotou wasn’t a very big fan of Ensemble!, but Masayoshi was constantly enthralled, no matter how bad the show was. Maybe it was because it was so late, or maybe it was because he’d finished off the beer he’d squirreled away in Masayoshi’s fridge or maybe it was because of something else entirely, but tonight Gotou couldn’t quite tear his attention away from Masayoshi.
Masayoshi sat on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the television, oblivious to Gotou’s attention. He would move his hands occasionally, lightly curled into fists, as if mimicking what he saw on the screen. He hadn’t done this sort of thing at first, when they would first marathon shows together — although Masayoshi was fond of grandstanding and jumping up to perform the henshin maneuvers along with the show, he would usually at least sit still when he had cause to sit. Now he felt more comfortable with Gotou around, clearly, because he was acting like a child, wide-eyed and bouncing as he watched the new episode unfold excitedly.
It was unbearably cute.
Gotou felt the blush creeping up on him again and tore his gaze away, looked back at the screen as the multi-hued hero team fought with the week’s monster. He shifted in his seat a little, uncomfortable and somewhat tired. He settled back a bit at an angle this time, so he could watch both Masayoshi and keep an eye on the television, and he glanced over just in time to see the light from the television slide across Masayoshi’s face. Gotou sighed in amusement at the expression on Masayoshi’s face, and thought; this isn’t so bad.
He wondered idly what kind of face Masayoshi would make if he pushed him down against the couch and kissed him. Surprised, horrified, disgusted? Gotou wet his lips as he thought about it, and then the rest of his brain caught up with him and applied the emergency brake. What the FUCK.
Gotou sat up, head swinging to the television screen, eyes forward. He was blushing now for sure, but he focused more on the fact that he had to get his mind off of … that, whatever that was, and shifted again, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. Maybe exchanging a few mails with his girlfriend would cool his head and bring him back to reality, because this … this needed to stop.
He shifted around again and realized, with sudden clarity, that he was hard.
Gotou stared immediately ahead, beyond the television screen displaying the latter half of the episode in glorious HD, and thought desperately, what the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK.
He wasn’t a teenager any more. He didn’t just randomly get hard at a sudden breeze, or an imagined make-out session. Or even the thought of texting dirty things to his girlfriend. Gotou shifted uncomfortably, gaze still fixed straight ahead, and thought despairingly that this was not the day to be wearing shorts.
Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. Sometimes they would, even when he was younger. Gotou sat rigidly and stared at the television and thought of everything he could that would be the equivalent of a mental cold shower. An actual cold shower. Baseball. Paperwork. Lots, and lots of paperwork. Harazuka in a tutu. Masayoshi…
Masayoshi, leaned in close, a soft expression on his face; Gotou’s name a heavy whisper on his breath…
Well, that did the opposite of helping.
Gotou groaned a little and peeked over at Masayoshi, to see if he’d noticed. He was oblivious as always, happily watching the show, so Gotou got slowly to his feet. He was going to have to sneak to the bathroom and take care of this and just pretend that he hadn’t gotten hard thinking about Masayoshi, of all things. He didn’t even swing that way, for fuck’s sake. He would just jerk off in the bathroom and pretend that today had never happened and that would be that.
“Are you okay, Gotou-san?” Masayoshi asked, head swiveled in his direction. Gotou froze mid-stride, wondered if Masayoshi could see, could tell from that angle, and hoped that he was too innocently oblivious to notice.
“I’m fine, gotta take a piss,” Gotou said dismissively. He affected his usual tone. “Jeez, why do you want to know, can’t a guy go take a piss in peace?”
“Harazuka-san said to keep an eye on you,” he said, but there wasn’t a hint of worry in his tone, and when Gotou glanced back at Masayoshi his attention had been recaptured by the idiot box. Gotou sighed in relief, and hurried to the washroom.
#
The overhead light of the bathroom was bright and cold, and Gotou closed the door firmly behind himself before relaxing, just a little. Masayoshi’s bathroom was larger than Gotou’s, and instead of a single sink set against the wall there was an actual counter with cabinets underneath. The mirror was large, it ran the length of the counter, and Gotou eyed himself in it, back against the door still.
His erection wasn’t apparent unless you were really looking for it. Gotou pressed his hand over his groin, and felt the too-hot bulge there, then closed his eyes just a little and stepped closer to the mirror. It was a good thing he’d opted to wear briefs today, if he’d gone with boxers Masayoshi surely would have noticed.
Not that Masayoshi didn’t have to deal with this himself, he was sure Masayoshi would understand, but … he didn’t want to broach the subject, didn’t want to say, ‘hey, sorry to interrupt your show but it’s okay if I use your toilet to jerk off in, right?’ Though, it might be worth it for the face Masayoshi would undoubtedly make. Gotou smiled to himself in amusement at the mental image, chin on his chest as he looked down at where his hand was pressed.
Masayoshi did this, too. He was a guy, after all … Gotou wondered, as he sneaked his hand into the waistband of his shorts, if Masayoshi had ever jerked off here. Standing in front of the mirror. Gotou looked up, caught his own eye in his reflection and looked away again, cherry-red. He needed to stop thinking about Masayoshi, and think about his girlfriend. If he was going to do this, he wanted to do it right.
He slid his shorts off his hips, tugged his underwear down just low enough that he could pull himself out, cock twitching a little now that his fingers were actually touching it. The sensation made his stomach jump a little, and he stared down at himself, hand gripping his erection loosely. He felt hot, the heat crawling under his skin and he stroked himself once slowly. His skin was dry, it wasn’t very pleasurable to start, but still the sensation of something other than cloth, the slight hint of pressure, all of that made him shiver.
“Gotou-san? Are you okay in there?” Masayoshi knocked lightly at the door.
Gotou jerked, squeezed himself without thinking and made a little noise, half-pained as he dragged his fist toward the end of his cock. “I’m fine,” he said sharply after a minute, the jump present in his voice and unsure how to keep it level. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Go away, Masayoshi!”
There was silence, and Gotou rubbed his thumb along the tip, pulling his foreskin back. He was gathering fluid, just a little, and that slickness made the slow pulls easier. He didn’t want to move and look for lotion, he didn’t want to do anything that made an additional sound, Masayoshi was right on the other side of that door. What if he hadn’t locked it?
The warmth was beginning to spread through his chest and down his arms, little pinpricks of pleasure that made him shiver again. The noise escaped before he could stop it, a small moan, and Gotou clapped his free hand over his mouth and closed his eyes, holding his breath. There wasn’t another noise from outside the door, maybe Masayoshi had walked away, gone back to the couch … he’d been in here long enough that the episode should be over by now, maybe he lucked out and Masayoshi went to bed. All the same, he kept his hand clamped tight over his mouth, and as he stroked himself, eyes closed, he slipped two of his fingers into his mouth. He’d never done that before, but, ah … it distracted him, and kept him quiet.
He missed Masayoshi’s voice. It was warm and comforting, even when he was worried, and hearing it again would make him feel … good. He didn’t want to admit it but he was distracted now, feeling coiled tight in his belly, getting close but not quite there.
“Gotou-san?” His voice again, more worried than before, knocking again at the door. Gotou hummed in satisfaction, mouth working around his fingers, but still he wasn’t quite there. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Gotou had to removed his fingers from his mouth to speak, and they trailed saliva. He swallowed, hand still gripped tight around his dick, and by some miracle made his voice sound about as normal as it could be, in this situation. “I’m fine,” he barked hoarsely.
There was a pause, and he could hear Masayoshi shuffling about. “Are you really?” Masayoshi called. “I can help, if you’re not feeling well, I can do something… I’ll call Harazuka-san-!”
He let out a hoarse laugh, despite himself. Gotou tilted forward and leaned his weight on his free hand, braced against the counter. “Harazuka-san can’t help,” he said, more to himself than projecting out the door, but all the same he heard Masayoshi stop. He could imagine the puzzled look on his face, cell phone in one hand, prepared to call the inventor. Gotou’s cock throbbed in his hand as he imagined Masayoshi putting it down, walking back to the door, putting his hand on the bathroom door itself, and standing there.
Masayoshi’s voice was still worried, but it wasn’t timid. “He’s very smart, Gotou-san, I’m sure he’ll have some insight, and if not I can take you to the hospital!”
This time Gotou laughed harder. A hospital, because he was jerking off in the bathroom? Because he was jerking off over the timbre of his best friend’s voice, in his best friend’s bathroom? His laugh slid into broken and stopped, suddenly. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t deal with this.
“If not Harazuka-san,” Masayoshi said, determination in his voice. “I’m sure I can help somehow, Gotou-san! Don’t keep it to yourself, I’m here to support you! Just like you support me!”
Something about the words just made Gotou’s self-control snap. Whatever remained was in fragments, and he twisted, gripped the bathroom door’s knob in one hand and yanked the door open. He hadn’t locked the door. He found he was amused by that, even as he saw Masayoshi’s face on the other side, startled at how abruptly the door had come open. His eyes were on Gotou’s face to start, and Gotou gritted his teeth, grip still on himself, wound so tight he could hardly breathe.
“Do you really think,” Gotou said, his voice gone hoarse and sideways on him, “that you can help with this?”
Masayoshi’s brow furrowed, clearly confused. His eyes darted over Gotou’s face, red and sweaty, and then down to see him holding himself with one hand tightly, cock erect and flushed. The shift in Masayoshi’s expression would have been intensely comical, under other circumstances. He yelped, turned bright pink, and backpedaled away, before turning around completely, with one hand clamped over his eyes. “G-Gotou-san!” Masayoshi sputtered. “Y-your, you’ve — I’m sorry!”
Gotou wasn’t entirely sure what was going through his head that made him open the bathroom door and essentially flash Masayoshi, but he immediately regretted it. Gotou covered himself with his other hand, the first still holding his erection. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered, brought back to himself by Masayoshi’s reaction. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t going away, I couldn’t deal with it—”
Masayoshi peeked back over his shoulder, eyes locked on Gotou’s face, blue swimming in a sea of red flush. “It’s that Amorous Armadillo-san, isn’t it,” he said.
“What?” Gotou was a little distracted and completely exposed. His shorts were getting ready to abandon his hips and fall down to his ankles, but if he moved to try to catch them he’d be wagging his erection in Masayoshi’s face again. “I’m not,no-” A horrified realization set in. “I’m not jerking off over a fucking monster, Masayoshi—”
Masayoshi shook his head, and then his eyes traveled south before snapping back up to Gotou’s face, although Gotou was fairly sure he couldn’t see anything now. “Do you … want me to help?”
“No, I don’t want you to help!” Gotou started to shuffle backward, but now his shorts were definitely around his ankles and he’d trip himself. “What the fuck are you even saying, don’t say shit like that-!”
Masayoshi turned around now. He was completely pink, from chin to hairline, but he was studying Gotou thoughtfully. “Masayoshi,” Gotou said in warning.
“I can help,” Masayoshi said, his voice only wavering a little. “It’s my fault that you were corrupted by the Amorous Armadillo, the least I can do is help!”
“I’m not corrupted,” Gotou said hotly, although maybe he was, a little. “And I don’t need you to help, I need you to-” go away stop talking oh my god please I can’t take this, Masayoshi. Masayoshi, however, not being a mind reader, took several steps forward, eyes now locked on Gotou’s hands, covering his crotch. Gotou scooted backwards, back through the door into the bathroom but he stumbled over his shorts and fell back into the counter. He reached his hands out to catch himself, braced against the counter in the bathroom, and stared, wide-eyed as Masayoshi stepped close. “What are you doing,” Gotou breathed.
Masayoshi’s blush renewed itself when Gotou’s cock sprang free from where it had been trapped by his hands. It was glistening now, engorged and shiny red in the bright lights of the bathroom, the foreskin pulled back partially. Gotou wet his now-dry lips, eyes on Masayoshi, whose eyes were just, staring.
He could put a stop to this right now. He could shove Masayoshi away, shove him out of the bathroom, lock the door behind him. Instead he watched as Masayoshi dropped to his knees in front of him and put one tentative hand on Gotou’s hip.
“Oh,” Gotou whispered. Masayoshi’s fingers felt cool on his too-hot skin. “God.”
Masayoshi wet his own lips, ignoring Gotou’s words and considering him. His face was far too close to Gotou’s erection, and now he was touching it. Gotou whimpered and covered the lower part of his face with one hand as Masayoshi wrapped his hand around Gotou’s cock and stroked him, slowly. Now his eyes darted up to look at Gotou, blue and innocent, shimmering in the bathroom light. “Okay?” he asked, tentatively. “I’ve never … I mean, you’ll have to tell me if I’m not doing something right, okay?”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, the edge of his name a gasp as Masayoshi leaned in close, one hand supporting the underside of it, holding him still so he could lick. He rolled the taste around in his mouth a moment, considering. “You don’t have to,” Gotou pleaded, hanging onto the counter with both hands like a lifeline.
Masayoshi glared up at him, brow furrowed with determination. Instead of answering, he took Gotou into his mouth and sucked.
Gotou couldn’t say anything to that.
#
It wasn’t the best blow job Gotou had ever had. Masayoshi was messy and overeager, gagged himself twice and barely remembered to keep his teeth to himself. But it was Masayoshi, and the sheer amount he’d wanted this nearly made his legs give way. Thankfully he was propped against the counter, and while his legs trembled, Gotou looked down at Masayoshi, who was wiping stringy white fluid from his cheek.
He hadn’t known what to do when Gotou climaxed and he’d jerked back, surprised — and most had missed his mouth entirely, splattering across the bridge of his nose and across his cheek. He didn’t seem to notice, though, still staring between Gotou’s legs, a touch concerned. “It still hasn’t gone down, Gotou-san,” he said, and poked Gotou’s cock with one finger. He was too sensitive after his orgasm and Gotou sucked in a breath through his teeth. Masayoshi looked up at him, at the intake of breath. “What else do I need to do?”
“You’ve done enough,” Gotou said, when he could think in multi-syllable words again. “It is all over your face, oh my god…”
Masayoshi smeared a glob of it across his cheek, and then stuck the semen-covered finger in his mouth, curiously. Gotou gaped at him, leaned down and grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand out of his mouth. “Don’t do that!” He groped behind him for a hand towel, found one and leaned forward, taking Masayoshi’s chin in his hand to clean his face. “Don’t — you’ve done enough, Masayoshi, shit…”
He tilted his head obediently, letting Gotou wipe his face clean of fluid. “I didn’t really like that a whole bunch,” he said. “What else can we do?”
Gotou stopped. “If you didn’t like it, you shouldn’t do it,” he said harshly. “Fuck, Masayoshi, where did you even learn about that…?”
Masayoshi scowled at him. “I’m a guy too,” he said hotly. “I’m not a child, Gotou-san.” Gotou still had a grip on his chin, keeping his head turned up to Gotou. He wet his lips, and Gotou mirrored him unconsciously. “You’re still hard,” Masayoshi said finally, and Gotou swallowed. “So what else can we do?”
“What the fuck do you mean, 'what else can we do?’” Gotou said, a weird feeling in his chest. Kiss him. He released Masayoshi’s chin and with a bit of effort, straightened. He was still hard, and he ached. “Forget it, okay?”
“Do you want to fuck me?” Masayoshi asked, eyes wide and innocent. He was kneeling on the bathroom floor in front of Gotou and there was still an errant glob of Gotou’s cum caught in his hair. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, out of his lungs. Gotou wanted to turn away but couldn’t, and Masayoshi continued, “Sometimes I hear the crew when I’m not supposed to, and they’ll talk about the filthy things that they want to do to the girls who are modeling, or even some of the prettier guys.” He looked down, then wiped his hand across his mouth. “I told them off the first time, for questioning the girls’ honor, but they laughed at me. It was…” he gestured helplessly, and looked back up at Gotou.
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said. He felt something thick caught in his throat.
“Anyway,” Masayoshi continued. “I didn’t want any of them to fuck me. It just felt gross to even think about.” He touched Gotou’s thigh gently, and Gotou started, then settled under Masayoshi’s palm. “But if it were you,” he said softly. “I think it would be all right.”
Gotou swallowed hard, looking down at Masayoshi. “Masayoshi,” he said again, intimately familiar with the syllables now, and then just stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He did want to fuck Masayoshi, the moment he first said the words it was a revelation, something formless given shape and word … but not like this. “I can’t,” he said instead, his voice catching.
“You’re my most important person,” Masayoshi said seriously. “Please, Gotou-san.”
Please.
#
Gotou’s shorts were left on the floor in the bathroom, probably, same as his underwear. He’d find them in the morning maybe. His shirt was easier to locate, on the floor in Masayoshi’s room, just inside the doorway. Masayoshi’s hooded tee shirt wasn’t far behind it, but he sat on the bed legs cocked wide, still wearing the baggy sweatpants he had changed into from his costume earlier. Gotou’s brain had stopped most higher functions at this point, and he had one hand in the waistband of Masayoshi’s pants, tugging at it insistently.
“Oh,” Masayoshi said, as if he’d expected sex to be something else entirely, something he kept his pants on for. “Um.”
“Changed your mind?” Gotou breathed, his voice gone husky, hoarse. He almost wanted Masayoshi to say yes, to back out of it, because he was moving on pure bravado at this point and didn’t know how long he could keep it up. He pulled Masayoshi’s sweatpants down his hips, his briefs caught along with them. Instead of shying away, Masayoshi simply covered his face with his hands and made an embarrassed noise as his own erection bobbed out of his underwear, sticky and slick with fluid.
Gotou stared, and slid his hand through the wetness there, stroking Masayoshi’s cock a few times. “You came from giving a blow job,” he said, amazed, and Masayoshi made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine. He was half-hard, on his way to full mast already, and Gotou’s hand was helping him along considerably. “You got hard, and came, from giving a blow job.”
“I’ve thought about it before,” Masayoshi said weakly, from behind his hands.
“You’ve thought about blowing people?” Gotou stroked him a few more times, then let up, so he could tug off Masayoshi’s pants and underwear proper. “So you’re the kinky sort of gay then, huh?”
“I’m not,” Masayoshi said, huffed up, hands dropped from his face and propping himself up on his elbows. “I didn’t think about just anyone, it was you mostly, Gotou-san!”
Gotou blushed scarlet. “'Mostly?’” he said, to take his mind off the fact that apparently he was Masayoshi’s gay crush. “Who else have you thought about sucking, huh? Kaname?”
Masayoshi made an indignant noise. “Master is married!” he said haughtily. “But … Red Axe isn’t.”
Oh, this was gold. Gotou leaned forward with a wicked grin, Masayoshi sprawled out on his back. “You’ve thought about sucking off Red Axe?” he said. “What about Harakiri Sunshine?” Masayoshi covered his face again, ears red, and Gotou laughed and sat back on his heels. “It’s mean to laugh,” Masayoshi said from under his hands, and Gotou shrugged loosely before he realized that Masayoshi couldn’t see him. “Like you haven’t thought about things like that.”
“Can’t really say that I have.” Gotou pressed his hand over Masayoshi’s erection, and felt how warm it was. “Never thought I’d be doing it with a guy, I’m not gay. Like you,” he added, jabbing Masayoshi in the stomach with one finger.
“I’m not gay!” Masayoshi protested, and Gotou poked him in the belly again, and he giggled.
“You’re not?” Gotou said. “How many girls have you dated, Masayoshi?”
“None! But I’ve never dated any guys either, my pursuit of justice is more important!” He got back up on his elbows and glared up at Gotou.
“And I’m willing to be that you haven’t had sex with any women, either,” Gotou said, idly stroking his cock again. Masayoshi inhaled hard as he rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, and gently pulled back the foreskin. “Dating or not. Right?”
“’m not interested in that,” Masayoshi gasped, one hand over his eyes as Gotou stroked him.
“And yet, here we are.” Gotou said. He leaned over Masayoshi, and put both his palms on the mattress, on either side of Masayoshi’s head.
“You’re a police officer,” Masayoshi said, eyes emerging from behind his arm. “You’re an agent of justice, just like I’m a hero of justice! Clearly, I’m attracted to justice.”
“If that were true, you’d’ve hooked up with Mari by now,” Gotou muttered, and tickled Masayoshi’s side. Masayoshi inhaled and laughed, flailed an arm and smacked Gotou in the chest. Gotou stopped tickling him suddenly and they both just stopped, staring at each other, breathing heavily.
“So,” Masayoshi said, chest heaving, sweat shining on his skin. “How does this work?”
Gotou pushed himself up, back to his knees. “You should probably turn over,” he said, and Masayoshi puffed out his cheeks. “It’ll be easier,” he said, face flushed. “On you.”
“I want to see you,” Masayoshi said.
Gotou shook his head. “I’ve got to,” he ran his hand up and down his own cock. His erection hadn’t wilted in the least, he was hard and throbbing when he touched himself, even teasing Masayoshi hadn’t been distraction enough. “I want to make sure I don’t hurt you,” he said, mouth dry.
Masayoshi nodded his head finally, and after a bit of shuffling up the bed, rolled over onto his stomach, knees in the mattress and legs spread. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and wrapped his arms around it glumly. Gotou rested his hand on Masayoshi’s ass, and felt him tremble a bit. He was scared, but that was okay because Gotou was scared too.
He swallowed, and spread Masayoshi’s cheeks, before running his hand down and brushing his fingers over his asshole. Here, he thought, and realized how dry and warm it was. “Lube,” he said suddenly, the thought never occurring to him prior.
Masayoshi twisted his head on the pillow. “Lube?” he repeated, perplexed.
“Yeah.” Gotou pushed his finger, gently, against Masayoshi and felt the resistance. “It’s gonna hurt, and be too dry if we don’t have any lube.”
“Lube’s in, uh,” Masayoshi waved his hand in the air, then indicated the low dresser than ran along the wall. “I think the second drawer over there.”
Gotou did not move, stunned. “You have lube?” he repeated, incredulous.
Masayoshi looked back over his shoulder at Gotou, brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, and Gotou shook his head and didn’t respond, instead sliding off the bed and going to the drawer that Masayoshi indicated. When he pulled it open, sure enough, there was a jar of lubricant … as well as a plethora of tools and small old paints. Gotou unscrewed the jar and made sure there was nothing mixed in with the lube. “What the hell do you use this on?” he said as he climbed back on the bed, setting the jar on the covers against Masayoshi’s thigh. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a hidden stash of dildos around here.” Gotou inclined his head, blushed at thought of Masayoshi spread out on the bed, doing this to himself. “Although that would make this easier.”
“I don’t have anything LIKE that,” Masayoshi said, scandalized. “I use it to lube the joints of my model kits.” He turned partially around, insulted that Gotou would go immediately with baser instincts.
“Of course you do,” Gotou said dryly. He opened the lid of the lube, and looked up when he realized Masayoshi was watching him as well he could. “Last chance to back out,” he offered, and Masayoshi huffed at him.
“If I’m gonna do it with anyone, it’s gonna be Gotou-san,” he said. “I’m not afraid.”
He put his hand on Masayoshi’s thigh and felt him tremble. “Yeah,” Gotou said softly. “Okay.”
#
In the course of time that he’d known Masayoshi, Gotou had heard him make plenty of noises. Shouting mostly, dramatic speeches, less dramatic but no less impassioned writs about justice and his quest to become a hero, laughter and cheering but … he’d never heard him make any noises like these. Gotou pushed his fingers into Masayoshi again, felt his walls constrict down and squeeze his digits, and Masayoshi made another one of those noises directly into his pillow.
They were amazing. Short little whines, moans, gasps … each one left Gotou shivering. Masayoshi wiggled his hips and pushed them into the mattress, trying to force Gotou to move his fingers more, to fuck him with his hands only. He had his arms around the pillow and his face turned into it, but his hips kept moving, jerking, and Gotou was afraid he was going to hurt Masayoshi. “Stop, stop,” Gotou soothed, pulling his fingers out despite Masayoshi’s whine.
Masayoshi breathed raggedly for a moment before he lifted his head from the pillow, enough for Gotou to hear him speak clearly. “More,” Masayoshi said impatiently, his voice different, thicker. Gotou swallowed, and wondered really who was the corrupted one, here.
Gotou leaned forward, and put his hands on Masayoshi’s hips, tugging him to his knees. “C'mon,” he said, pushing the head of his cock against Masayoshi’s ass. Masayoshi stopped squirming and went completely still, enough so that Gotou was able to work the head of his cock in easily. Masayoshi was so tight though, squeezing down on him it had to be hurting him, and Gotou leaned forward a little, eyes trained on the back of Masayoshi’s head. “'yoshi,” he said heavily. “You okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
Masayoshi inhaled and exhaled, and said in a wondering tone, “you’re inside me, Gotou-san.” He moved a little then inhaled sharply. “Hurts,” he hissed,.
“I knew it,” Gotou said, and moved to withdraw.
“No,” Masayoshi said suddenly. “Don’t, Gotou-san, feels good.” Gotou pulled out anyway, and Masayoshi groaned.
“You just said it hurt,” Gotou said, leaning over Masayoshi’s back, one hand on the mattress under his pillow. “I don’t want to hurt you, I’m not going to do that.”
“Also said it felt good,” Masayoshi huffed. He pushed his hips back, seeking. “It’s both, Gotou-san, you won’t hurt me, please.”
Gotou kissed the back of Masayoshi’s neck, then got back up on his knees. It was a little easier this time, and Masayoshi made a humming noise, eyes closed and face buried again in the pillow. He was hot and tight and wet from the lube and felt so good that Gotou thought he might come right then and there. It took a moment to catch his breath, and as he was trying to calm himself, Masayoshi’s voice, muffled and demanding, said, “more.”
#
Gotou was used to a lot of strangeness in his life. He’d accepted it, with the company he kept these days. All the same the last thing he expected to happen was to find himself fucking his best friend into the mattress a little after two a.m. on a Saturday morning.
Masayoshi was squalling like a banshee, head thrown back, hair gone wild. He had both his legs up over Gotou’s hips, and Gotou had a pretty good grip on him, balancing his body. Masayoshi’s shoulders were pressed to the mattress, and Gotou loomed above him, using his leverage to drive down and in, each stroke eliciting a new sound from Masayoshi.
He was getting ready to come again, he could feel his balls contracting, feel the surge building in them. There were already rivulets of his seed leaking from Masayoshi, churned up into a froth by their frantic actions, but Gotou had barely even slowed down. Masayoshi was so hot and wet and slick he could barely keep it together, and he tilted forward, holding Masayoshi’s ass in the air still.
Masayoshi got his arms around Gotou’s neck, looping them. It pulled him down further, shoved his dick in deeper. Masayoshi moaned, eyes closed, and Gotou put his hands on the mattress, fisting the sheets as he slammed his body against Masayoshi’s. Masayoshi let out a long, wordless moan, shaking — he’d come again, this time dry as his cock lay against his belly, already spent.
“Masayoshi,” Gotou gasped. “Masayoshi, 'yoshi, ’yoshi-” he was in balls-deep when he came again, twisting his head back, eyes squeezed closed. It was like someone hooked his ribcage behind his heart and pulled, it felt like he emptied all of himself, this time, and Masayoshi’s panting, shuddering breaths cut off into another moan, this time at the lack of movement as Gotou stayed in deep.
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, head back against the pillow, eyes closed tight. “Gotou-san….”
Gotou stared down at him, and once he was certain he was able, slowly shifted himself to pull out. The noise was absolutely filthy, squelching and Masayoshi made another whining noise as Gotou collapsed on the bed beside him, spent. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi breathed as Gotou rolled onto his back, completely spent. “Look, it’s gone down.”
He didn’t have to open his eyes to know what Masayoshi meant by that. The exhaustion had slammed into him, and he didn’t want to think about opening his eyes, or getting up to turn off the light, or clean-up, or anything other than lying here. He did however, open his eyes when he felt Masayoshi flop over his chest, because that had been unexpected, and drove the wind out of him. “Masayoshi,” Gotou complained, squinting and gasping.
Masayoshi had rolled over and settled his arms over Gotou’s chest, resting his head on them. “That was amazing,” he said dreamily. “Can we do that again sometime? Tomorrow, maybe?”
“No,” Gotou said, and closed his eyes.
“It felt really good,” Masayoshi murmured. He got up off of Gotou’s chest and pinched his cheeks, and Gotou opened his eyes again angrily and batted at Masayoshi’s hands.
“Stop that!” he said, and Masayoshi leaned over him, both hands on the bed on either side of Gotou’s head. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Masayoshi lowered his head and kissed Gotou, strangely tentative. Gotou wet his lips after the brief kiss, and Masayoshi looked only a little uncertain. “Masayoshi?” Gotou asked, and Masayoshi ducked his head down again, low enough that their noses brushed.
“Traditionally, the first kiss is supposed to happen before sex, right?” Masayoshi asked, eyes twinkling. Gotou groaned and shoved Masayoshi off him, and Masayoshi gave an exhausted, tired laugh before settling in next to Gotou. After a moment, Gotou relented and put his arm around Masayoshi, who smiled happily, and closed his eyes to sleep.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 8516
Summary:
Sometimes it was better to show up late, rather than early — at least, where King Torture’s monsters were concerned.
Sure, Gotou wanted to make certain that Masayoshi was okay and unharmed, and the idiot would do all sorts of stupidly heroic things when trying to fight the monsters … but, when he was running late at least he didn’t have to deal with nearly plowing into the monster on his bicycle and almost going over the handlebars at the abrupt stop.
“Gotou-san!” Masayoshi yelled from across the parking-lot-turned-battlefield. “Duck!”
Duck? Gotou looked up at the monster, registered Masayoshi’s words, and flung himself immediately off the bike. The creature made a strange honking noise and belched a sickly green flame that washed over his abandoned bicycle. Gotou stumbled backward and away, the smell of rotten eggs overpowering.
There would be time for sorting all of this out later — when he was elbow-deep in paperwork and regretting ever rescuing a certain naked would-be hero from an alley — but right now he was in direct contact with one of King Torture’s monsters, so Gotou pulled his gun from its holster and aimed it at the large mash-up creature.
The rotten egg smell got stronger as the monster turned to face him, and before Gotou could think to move again, it belched more green fire at him. Gotou flung his arms up over his head to try and protect himself — but the flames that licked over his arms weren’t hot. He heard Masayoshi yell, and suddenly the monster was wheeling around to face Masayoshi, its stubby arms waving frantically.
Gotou lifted his arms and checked himself — he wasn’t burned, thankfully — but when he moved to straighten he felt the vertigo slam into him like a wave cresting on the beach, and it knocked him down to one knee.
The creature gave another loud honking noise and he looked up sharply, in time to see it explode like all of King Torture’s monsters before it. Masayoshi stood on the other side, ridiculous office-supply weapon in hand, in a somewhat cool pose. Gotou rubbed his hand over his mouth and thought, I didn’t just think that.
“Gotou-san!” Masayoshi yelled, running over to him, his scarf trailing out behind him like a tail. “Gotou-san, are you—”
“I’m fine!” Gotou said, waving Masayoshi off. “It didn’t do anything to me, I’m not hurt.” Just a little woozy. “What the hell was that, this time?” Gotou looked around, surprised that the Flamenco Girls weren’t present, and Mari wasn’t three steps away from him in his uniform. “Is it just you, today?”
“The Flamenco Girls are out of town,” Masayoshi said, grabbing Gotou by the elbow despite being waved off, and helping to pull him to his feet. Gotou wobbled for a split second, but caught himself. “Are you sure you’re all right, Gotou-san? You seem … pale.”
“I’m fine,” Gotou toed his bicycle — it seemed fine, too. “That thing fucking stank like a septic tank though.”
Masayoshi took off his helmet and held it in both hands. When Gotou looked over at him, he saw the wet streak of blood down the side of his face and felt his heart seize up in worry. He also noticed how Masayoshi’s hair went everywhere, sweat-soaked and still poofy from being confined in the helmet. Sex hair, Gotou thought to himself, amused.
“Amorous Armadillo-san didn’t smell,” Masayoshi said, clearly confused.
“Amorous…? No, I don’t want to know,” Gotou waved that off. “And it did, that thing smelled like freaking rotten eggs, don’t mess with me.” Gotou stood his bicycle upright. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not messing with you!” Masayoshi said indignantly. “I didn’t smell anything!”
“Great, so I got fire farted on me by the world’s gassiest minion and the only other person present doesn’t believe me,” Gotou said. “Fantastic. Beautiful start to the weekend.”
Masayoshi stared at him. “Gotou-san, are you certain that you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said with a sigh, then stared at Masayoshi. “What about you, you’re the one who’s bleeding!”
“I’m not—” Masayoshi said, then touched the side of his face, tacky with blood. “Okay, maybe I am a little,” he amended. “I just got rattled around some, I’m okay.”
“I bet you’re not, let me see,” Gotou said, and Masayoshi took a large step back, holding his helmet out in front of himself protectively. “Shouldn’t you put that back on, I thought you were trying to keep your identity a secret?”
“Oh,” Masayoshi said, and looked around furtively before pulling the helmet back on and securing his goggles. “Right!”
Whenever one of King Torture’s minions showed up — and was defeated (100% of the time by self-destructing) — there was always a debriefing session held afterwards. More often than not this session was held in Masayoshi’s apartment, where they could go over the footage taken by the body camera Harazuka had integrated into Masayoshi’s armor. They would look for clues into the nature of the creature, try to theorize a better battle plan, speculate about the origin of King Torture and where these monsters were even coming from, and Gotou would work up his report.
This was how the evening usually went, but Gotou felt weird this time. He couldn’t quantify the weirdness — Masayoshi’s apartment was strangely comfortable to him, he’d been here many times now, and it would make sense that he had become comfortable with his surroundings — and he drank a few more of the beers that he had stashed in Masayoshi’s fridge to compensate for this. He sat on the couch beside Masayoshi as Harazuka stood and kept talking about the science behind King Torture’s monsters — and Gotou glanced slyly over to Masayoshi, eyes darting over him, sitting on the edge of the cushion, leaned forward and attention completely on Harazuka. He seemed cool and controlled (although, Gotou had to acknowledge, those were two words he usually didn’t associate with Masayoshi), and Gotou wondered not for the first time what it would be like to kiss him.
The thought came out of nowhere, and Gotou blushed.
Masayoshi noticed too, damn him. “Are you okay, Gotou-san?” he asked, attention shifted from Harazuka to Gotou. “You’re a little flushed.”
“I’m not—” I’m not okay, I keep having weird thoughts about you, and I’m 100% sure that’s your fault. “I’m fine,” he lied after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s just the alcohol.”
Masayoshi’s face was concerned, and Gotou sat back on the couch and forced himself to ignore it. Harazuka though, had seized upon the moment as well. “You did have prolonged contact with the gas secreting from the creature,” Harazuka said. “Perhaps it’s affecting you, I should run some tests.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gotou said, professional voice on now because he was Not Dealing With This Tonight. “I’m perfectly fine.” They were both staring at him now, which was distinctly not okay, but Gotou tried his best to look normal and not stressed out. After a moment Masayoshi looked to Harazuka and asked a question about one of his new weapons, and that took the attention off of Gotou and he exhaled, relieved.
The rest of the evening progressed as usual — Masayoshi getting hyper excited about something Harazuka fed into, and Gotou sat on the couch and sipped his beer, watching the feedback loop as they encouraged each other. The distraction of watching them was quite welcome, because it quieted the strange buzzing in his head; and if he watched the two of them, it kept him from focusing on Masayoshi and just staring at him.
Masayoshi had a bandage on now, a patch on his temple that covered the scrape. It had bled horribly for a bit, as head wounds were wont to do, but once he was patched up and cleaned up he was clearly mostly unhurt. All the same, he was way too perky for the lateness of the hour, and had far, far too much energy for someone who had just been fighting for their life against a genetically mutated monster armadillo that was sent specifically to cause havoc.
“Gotou-san?” Masayoshi asked, and Gotou took a quick pull of his beer, having once again been caught staring. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re both insane,” he said, because that was the safe response. Masayoshi pouted at him, and Harazuka laughed.
It was late — almost to midnight, when Harazuka finally packed up and left, his bag of tricks slung over his shoulder. Gotou was half-dozing on the couch, having had just a hair too much to drink. He woke up a little when Masayoshi saw Harazuka off, and then came back across the large open space of the apartment to stand in front of the couch, his hands on his hips. “You’ve been acting weird all night,” he complained to the barely-awake Gotou.
“I have an excuse,” Gotou mumbled, and ran his hand over his face, awake now, regretfully.
“You do,” Masayoshi agreed. “But you should have let Harazuka-san check you out! What if it makes you sick or gives you—” Masayoshi’s eyes got wide here, “—powers, or something. What if it turns you into one of King Torture’s monsters, that would be horrible!”
“I’m not gonna turn into one of King Torture’s minions,” Gotou said, although now that Masayoshi had introduced the idea, the thought was going to fester. “And I’m fine. Harazuka isn’t an actual doctor, he’s just an inventor, anyway, I don’t need him poking me with weird shit. I probably just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be okay.” Speaking of that, Gotou glanced at the couch, then back to Masayoshi. “You really don’t mind if I crash out on the couch tonight?”
“Not at all!” Masayoshi said cheerfully. “You’re welcome to sleep in the bed with me if you want, in fact — it’s huge, there’s plenty of room…”
Gotou stared at Masayoshi. He turned pink before he could stop himself, and Masayoshi blushed in response, confused. “…what?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine on the couch,” Gotou said, words tumbling out in a rush because in all the times he’d stayed over Masayoshi had never offered him that. “It’s better than under the table, yanno?”
“Yeah,” Masayoshi said slowly, looking at him weird. There were several moments of uncomfortable silence between them, and Masayoshi shifted on his feet. “I have an episode I taped from today of Ensemble! that I want to watch before bed, would that bother you?”
“Nah,” Gotou said, grateful for the very clear escape from the awkwardness of this current conversation. “Put it on.”
It was an effort to pay attention to the show. Gotou wasn’t a very big fan of Ensemble!, but Masayoshi was constantly enthralled, no matter how bad the show was. Maybe it was because it was so late, or maybe it was because he’d finished off the beer he’d squirreled away in Masayoshi’s fridge or maybe it was because of something else entirely, but tonight Gotou couldn’t quite tear his attention away from Masayoshi.
Masayoshi sat on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the television, oblivious to Gotou’s attention. He would move his hands occasionally, lightly curled into fists, as if mimicking what he saw on the screen. He hadn’t done this sort of thing at first, when they would first marathon shows together — although Masayoshi was fond of grandstanding and jumping up to perform the henshin maneuvers along with the show, he would usually at least sit still when he had cause to sit. Now he felt more comfortable with Gotou around, clearly, because he was acting like a child, wide-eyed and bouncing as he watched the new episode unfold excitedly.
It was unbearably cute.
Gotou felt the blush creeping up on him again and tore his gaze away, looked back at the screen as the multi-hued hero team fought with the week’s monster. He shifted in his seat a little, uncomfortable and somewhat tired. He settled back a bit at an angle this time, so he could watch both Masayoshi and keep an eye on the television, and he glanced over just in time to see the light from the television slide across Masayoshi’s face. Gotou sighed in amusement at the expression on Masayoshi’s face, and thought; this isn’t so bad.
He wondered idly what kind of face Masayoshi would make if he pushed him down against the couch and kissed him. Surprised, horrified, disgusted? Gotou wet his lips as he thought about it, and then the rest of his brain caught up with him and applied the emergency brake. What the FUCK.
Gotou sat up, head swinging to the television screen, eyes forward. He was blushing now for sure, but he focused more on the fact that he had to get his mind off of … that, whatever that was, and shifted again, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. Maybe exchanging a few mails with his girlfriend would cool his head and bring him back to reality, because this … this needed to stop.
He shifted around again and realized, with sudden clarity, that he was hard.
Gotou stared immediately ahead, beyond the television screen displaying the latter half of the episode in glorious HD, and thought desperately, what the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK.
He wasn’t a teenager any more. He didn’t just randomly get hard at a sudden breeze, or an imagined make-out session. Or even the thought of texting dirty things to his girlfriend. Gotou shifted uncomfortably, gaze still fixed straight ahead, and thought despairingly that this was not the day to be wearing shorts.
Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. Sometimes they would, even when he was younger. Gotou sat rigidly and stared at the television and thought of everything he could that would be the equivalent of a mental cold shower. An actual cold shower. Baseball. Paperwork. Lots, and lots of paperwork. Harazuka in a tutu. Masayoshi…
Masayoshi, leaned in close, a soft expression on his face; Gotou’s name a heavy whisper on his breath…
Well, that did the opposite of helping.
Gotou groaned a little and peeked over at Masayoshi, to see if he’d noticed. He was oblivious as always, happily watching the show, so Gotou got slowly to his feet. He was going to have to sneak to the bathroom and take care of this and just pretend that he hadn’t gotten hard thinking about Masayoshi, of all things. He didn’t even swing that way, for fuck’s sake. He would just jerk off in the bathroom and pretend that today had never happened and that would be that.
“Are you okay, Gotou-san?” Masayoshi asked, head swiveled in his direction. Gotou froze mid-stride, wondered if Masayoshi could see, could tell from that angle, and hoped that he was too innocently oblivious to notice.
“I’m fine, gotta take a piss,” Gotou said dismissively. He affected his usual tone. “Jeez, why do you want to know, can’t a guy go take a piss in peace?”
“Harazuka-san said to keep an eye on you,” he said, but there wasn’t a hint of worry in his tone, and when Gotou glanced back at Masayoshi his attention had been recaptured by the idiot box. Gotou sighed in relief, and hurried to the washroom.
The overhead light of the bathroom was bright and cold, and Gotou closed the door firmly behind himself before relaxing, just a little. Masayoshi’s bathroom was larger than Gotou’s, and instead of a single sink set against the wall there was an actual counter with cabinets underneath. The mirror was large, it ran the length of the counter, and Gotou eyed himself in it, back against the door still.
His erection wasn’t apparent unless you were really looking for it. Gotou pressed his hand over his groin, and felt the too-hot bulge there, then closed his eyes just a little and stepped closer to the mirror. It was a good thing he’d opted to wear briefs today, if he’d gone with boxers Masayoshi surely would have noticed.
Not that Masayoshi didn’t have to deal with this himself, he was sure Masayoshi would understand, but … he didn’t want to broach the subject, didn’t want to say, ‘hey, sorry to interrupt your show but it’s okay if I use your toilet to jerk off in, right?’ Though, it might be worth it for the face Masayoshi would undoubtedly make. Gotou smiled to himself in amusement at the mental image, chin on his chest as he looked down at where his hand was pressed.
Masayoshi did this, too. He was a guy, after all … Gotou wondered, as he sneaked his hand into the waistband of his shorts, if Masayoshi had ever jerked off here. Standing in front of the mirror. Gotou looked up, caught his own eye in his reflection and looked away again, cherry-red. He needed to stop thinking about Masayoshi, and think about his girlfriend. If he was going to do this, he wanted to do it right.
He slid his shorts off his hips, tugged his underwear down just low enough that he could pull himself out, cock twitching a little now that his fingers were actually touching it. The sensation made his stomach jump a little, and he stared down at himself, hand gripping his erection loosely. He felt hot, the heat crawling under his skin and he stroked himself once slowly. His skin was dry, it wasn’t very pleasurable to start, but still the sensation of something other than cloth, the slight hint of pressure, all of that made him shiver.
“Gotou-san? Are you okay in there?” Masayoshi knocked lightly at the door.
Gotou jerked, squeezed himself without thinking and made a little noise, half-pained as he dragged his fist toward the end of his cock. “I’m fine,” he said sharply after a minute, the jump present in his voice and unsure how to keep it level. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Go away, Masayoshi!”
There was silence, and Gotou rubbed his thumb along the tip, pulling his foreskin back. He was gathering fluid, just a little, and that slickness made the slow pulls easier. He didn’t want to move and look for lotion, he didn’t want to do anything that made an additional sound, Masayoshi was right on the other side of that door. What if he hadn’t locked it?
The warmth was beginning to spread through his chest and down his arms, little pinpricks of pleasure that made him shiver again. The noise escaped before he could stop it, a small moan, and Gotou clapped his free hand over his mouth and closed his eyes, holding his breath. There wasn’t another noise from outside the door, maybe Masayoshi had walked away, gone back to the couch … he’d been in here long enough that the episode should be over by now, maybe he lucked out and Masayoshi went to bed. All the same, he kept his hand clamped tight over his mouth, and as he stroked himself, eyes closed, he slipped two of his fingers into his mouth. He’d never done that before, but, ah … it distracted him, and kept him quiet.
He missed Masayoshi’s voice. It was warm and comforting, even when he was worried, and hearing it again would make him feel … good. He didn’t want to admit it but he was distracted now, feeling coiled tight in his belly, getting close but not quite there.
“Gotou-san?” His voice again, more worried than before, knocking again at the door. Gotou hummed in satisfaction, mouth working around his fingers, but still he wasn’t quite there. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Gotou had to removed his fingers from his mouth to speak, and they trailed saliva. He swallowed, hand still gripped tight around his dick, and by some miracle made his voice sound about as normal as it could be, in this situation. “I’m fine,” he barked hoarsely.
There was a pause, and he could hear Masayoshi shuffling about. “Are you really?” Masayoshi called. “I can help, if you’re not feeling well, I can do something… I’ll call Harazuka-san-!”
He let out a hoarse laugh, despite himself. Gotou tilted forward and leaned his weight on his free hand, braced against the counter. “Harazuka-san can’t help,” he said, more to himself than projecting out the door, but all the same he heard Masayoshi stop. He could imagine the puzzled look on his face, cell phone in one hand, prepared to call the inventor. Gotou’s cock throbbed in his hand as he imagined Masayoshi putting it down, walking back to the door, putting his hand on the bathroom door itself, and standing there.
Masayoshi’s voice was still worried, but it wasn’t timid. “He’s very smart, Gotou-san, I’m sure he’ll have some insight, and if not I can take you to the hospital!”
This time Gotou laughed harder. A hospital, because he was jerking off in the bathroom? Because he was jerking off over the timbre of his best friend’s voice, in his best friend’s bathroom? His laugh slid into broken and stopped, suddenly. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t deal with this.
“If not Harazuka-san,” Masayoshi said, determination in his voice. “I’m sure I can help somehow, Gotou-san! Don’t keep it to yourself, I’m here to support you! Just like you support me!”
Something about the words just made Gotou’s self-control snap. Whatever remained was in fragments, and he twisted, gripped the bathroom door’s knob in one hand and yanked the door open. He hadn’t locked the door. He found he was amused by that, even as he saw Masayoshi’s face on the other side, startled at how abruptly the door had come open. His eyes were on Gotou’s face to start, and Gotou gritted his teeth, grip still on himself, wound so tight he could hardly breathe.
“Do you really think,” Gotou said, his voice gone hoarse and sideways on him, “that you can help with this?”
Masayoshi’s brow furrowed, clearly confused. His eyes darted over Gotou’s face, red and sweaty, and then down to see him holding himself with one hand tightly, cock erect and flushed. The shift in Masayoshi’s expression would have been intensely comical, under other circumstances. He yelped, turned bright pink, and backpedaled away, before turning around completely, with one hand clamped over his eyes. “G-Gotou-san!” Masayoshi sputtered. “Y-your, you’ve — I’m sorry!”
Gotou wasn’t entirely sure what was going through his head that made him open the bathroom door and essentially flash Masayoshi, but he immediately regretted it. Gotou covered himself with his other hand, the first still holding his erection. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered, brought back to himself by Masayoshi’s reaction. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t going away, I couldn’t deal with it—”
Masayoshi peeked back over his shoulder, eyes locked on Gotou’s face, blue swimming in a sea of red flush. “It’s that Amorous Armadillo-san, isn’t it,” he said.
“What?” Gotou was a little distracted and completely exposed. His shorts were getting ready to abandon his hips and fall down to his ankles, but if he moved to try to catch them he’d be wagging his erection in Masayoshi’s face again. “I’m not,no-” A horrified realization set in. “I’m not jerking off over a fucking monster, Masayoshi—”
Masayoshi shook his head, and then his eyes traveled south before snapping back up to Gotou’s face, although Gotou was fairly sure he couldn’t see anything now. “Do you … want me to help?”
“No, I don’t want you to help!” Gotou started to shuffle backward, but now his shorts were definitely around his ankles and he’d trip himself. “What the fuck are you even saying, don’t say shit like that-!”
Masayoshi turned around now. He was completely pink, from chin to hairline, but he was studying Gotou thoughtfully. “Masayoshi,” Gotou said in warning.
“I can help,” Masayoshi said, his voice only wavering a little. “It’s my fault that you were corrupted by the Amorous Armadillo, the least I can do is help!”
“I’m not corrupted,” Gotou said hotly, although maybe he was, a little. “And I don’t need you to help, I need you to-” go away stop talking oh my god please I can’t take this, Masayoshi. Masayoshi, however, not being a mind reader, took several steps forward, eyes now locked on Gotou’s hands, covering his crotch. Gotou scooted backwards, back through the door into the bathroom but he stumbled over his shorts and fell back into the counter. He reached his hands out to catch himself, braced against the counter in the bathroom, and stared, wide-eyed as Masayoshi stepped close. “What are you doing,” Gotou breathed.
Masayoshi’s blush renewed itself when Gotou’s cock sprang free from where it had been trapped by his hands. It was glistening now, engorged and shiny red in the bright lights of the bathroom, the foreskin pulled back partially. Gotou wet his now-dry lips, eyes on Masayoshi, whose eyes were just, staring.
He could put a stop to this right now. He could shove Masayoshi away, shove him out of the bathroom, lock the door behind him. Instead he watched as Masayoshi dropped to his knees in front of him and put one tentative hand on Gotou’s hip.
“Oh,” Gotou whispered. Masayoshi’s fingers felt cool on his too-hot skin. “God.”
Masayoshi wet his own lips, ignoring Gotou’s words and considering him. His face was far too close to Gotou’s erection, and now he was touching it. Gotou whimpered and covered the lower part of his face with one hand as Masayoshi wrapped his hand around Gotou’s cock and stroked him, slowly. Now his eyes darted up to look at Gotou, blue and innocent, shimmering in the bathroom light. “Okay?” he asked, tentatively. “I’ve never … I mean, you’ll have to tell me if I’m not doing something right, okay?”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, the edge of his name a gasp as Masayoshi leaned in close, one hand supporting the underside of it, holding him still so he could lick. He rolled the taste around in his mouth a moment, considering. “You don’t have to,” Gotou pleaded, hanging onto the counter with both hands like a lifeline.
Masayoshi glared up at him, brow furrowed with determination. Instead of answering, he took Gotou into his mouth and sucked.
Gotou couldn’t say anything to that.
It wasn’t the best blow job Gotou had ever had. Masayoshi was messy and overeager, gagged himself twice and barely remembered to keep his teeth to himself. But it was Masayoshi, and the sheer amount he’d wanted this nearly made his legs give way. Thankfully he was propped against the counter, and while his legs trembled, Gotou looked down at Masayoshi, who was wiping stringy white fluid from his cheek.
He hadn’t known what to do when Gotou climaxed and he’d jerked back, surprised — and most had missed his mouth entirely, splattering across the bridge of his nose and across his cheek. He didn’t seem to notice, though, still staring between Gotou’s legs, a touch concerned. “It still hasn’t gone down, Gotou-san,” he said, and poked Gotou’s cock with one finger. He was too sensitive after his orgasm and Gotou sucked in a breath through his teeth. Masayoshi looked up at him, at the intake of breath. “What else do I need to do?”
“You’ve done enough,” Gotou said, when he could think in multi-syllable words again. “It is all over your face, oh my god…”
Masayoshi smeared a glob of it across his cheek, and then stuck the semen-covered finger in his mouth, curiously. Gotou gaped at him, leaned down and grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand out of his mouth. “Don’t do that!” He groped behind him for a hand towel, found one and leaned forward, taking Masayoshi’s chin in his hand to clean his face. “Don’t — you’ve done enough, Masayoshi, shit…”
He tilted his head obediently, letting Gotou wipe his face clean of fluid. “I didn’t really like that a whole bunch,” he said. “What else can we do?”
Gotou stopped. “If you didn’t like it, you shouldn’t do it,” he said harshly. “Fuck, Masayoshi, where did you even learn about that…?”
Masayoshi scowled at him. “I’m a guy too,” he said hotly. “I’m not a child, Gotou-san.” Gotou still had a grip on his chin, keeping his head turned up to Gotou. He wet his lips, and Gotou mirrored him unconsciously. “You’re still hard,” Masayoshi said finally, and Gotou swallowed. “So what else can we do?”
“What the fuck do you mean, 'what else can we do?’” Gotou said, a weird feeling in his chest. Kiss him. He released Masayoshi’s chin and with a bit of effort, straightened. He was still hard, and he ached. “Forget it, okay?”
“Do you want to fuck me?” Masayoshi asked, eyes wide and innocent. He was kneeling on the bathroom floor in front of Gotou and there was still an errant glob of Gotou’s cum caught in his hair. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, out of his lungs. Gotou wanted to turn away but couldn’t, and Masayoshi continued, “Sometimes I hear the crew when I’m not supposed to, and they’ll talk about the filthy things that they want to do to the girls who are modeling, or even some of the prettier guys.” He looked down, then wiped his hand across his mouth. “I told them off the first time, for questioning the girls’ honor, but they laughed at me. It was…” he gestured helplessly, and looked back up at Gotou.
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said. He felt something thick caught in his throat.
“Anyway,” Masayoshi continued. “I didn’t want any of them to fuck me. It just felt gross to even think about.” He touched Gotou’s thigh gently, and Gotou started, then settled under Masayoshi’s palm. “But if it were you,” he said softly. “I think it would be all right.”
Gotou swallowed hard, looking down at Masayoshi. “Masayoshi,” he said again, intimately familiar with the syllables now, and then just stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He did want to fuck Masayoshi, the moment he first said the words it was a revelation, something formless given shape and word … but not like this. “I can’t,” he said instead, his voice catching.
“You’re my most important person,” Masayoshi said seriously. “Please, Gotou-san.”
Please.
Gotou’s shorts were left on the floor in the bathroom, probably, same as his underwear. He’d find them in the morning maybe. His shirt was easier to locate, on the floor in Masayoshi’s room, just inside the doorway. Masayoshi’s hooded tee shirt wasn’t far behind it, but he sat on the bed legs cocked wide, still wearing the baggy sweatpants he had changed into from his costume earlier. Gotou’s brain had stopped most higher functions at this point, and he had one hand in the waistband of Masayoshi’s pants, tugging at it insistently.
“Oh,” Masayoshi said, as if he’d expected sex to be something else entirely, something he kept his pants on for. “Um.”
“Changed your mind?” Gotou breathed, his voice gone husky, hoarse. He almost wanted Masayoshi to say yes, to back out of it, because he was moving on pure bravado at this point and didn’t know how long he could keep it up. He pulled Masayoshi’s sweatpants down his hips, his briefs caught along with them. Instead of shying away, Masayoshi simply covered his face with his hands and made an embarrassed noise as his own erection bobbed out of his underwear, sticky and slick with fluid.
Gotou stared, and slid his hand through the wetness there, stroking Masayoshi’s cock a few times. “You came from giving a blow job,” he said, amazed, and Masayoshi made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine. He was half-hard, on his way to full mast already, and Gotou’s hand was helping him along considerably. “You got hard, and came, from giving a blow job.”
“I’ve thought about it before,” Masayoshi said weakly, from behind his hands.
“You’ve thought about blowing people?” Gotou stroked him a few more times, then let up, so he could tug off Masayoshi’s pants and underwear proper. “So you’re the kinky sort of gay then, huh?”
“I’m not,” Masayoshi said, huffed up, hands dropped from his face and propping himself up on his elbows. “I didn’t think about just anyone, it was you mostly, Gotou-san!”
Gotou blushed scarlet. “'Mostly?’” he said, to take his mind off the fact that apparently he was Masayoshi’s gay crush. “Who else have you thought about sucking, huh? Kaname?”
Masayoshi made an indignant noise. “Master is married!” he said haughtily. “But … Red Axe isn’t.”
Oh, this was gold. Gotou leaned forward with a wicked grin, Masayoshi sprawled out on his back. “You’ve thought about sucking off Red Axe?” he said. “What about Harakiri Sunshine?” Masayoshi covered his face again, ears red, and Gotou laughed and sat back on his heels. “It’s mean to laugh,” Masayoshi said from under his hands, and Gotou shrugged loosely before he realized that Masayoshi couldn’t see him. “Like you haven’t thought about things like that.”
“Can’t really say that I have.” Gotou pressed his hand over Masayoshi’s erection, and felt how warm it was. “Never thought I’d be doing it with a guy, I’m not gay. Like you,” he added, jabbing Masayoshi in the stomach with one finger.
“I’m not gay!” Masayoshi protested, and Gotou poked him in the belly again, and he giggled.
“You’re not?” Gotou said. “How many girls have you dated, Masayoshi?”
“None! But I’ve never dated any guys either, my pursuit of justice is more important!” He got back up on his elbows and glared up at Gotou.
“And I’m willing to be that you haven’t had sex with any women, either,” Gotou said, idly stroking his cock again. Masayoshi inhaled hard as he rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, and gently pulled back the foreskin. “Dating or not. Right?”
“’m not interested in that,” Masayoshi gasped, one hand over his eyes as Gotou stroked him.
“And yet, here we are.” Gotou said. He leaned over Masayoshi, and put both his palms on the mattress, on either side of Masayoshi’s head.
“You’re a police officer,” Masayoshi said, eyes emerging from behind his arm. “You’re an agent of justice, just like I’m a hero of justice! Clearly, I’m attracted to justice.”
“If that were true, you’d’ve hooked up with Mari by now,” Gotou muttered, and tickled Masayoshi’s side. Masayoshi inhaled and laughed, flailed an arm and smacked Gotou in the chest. Gotou stopped tickling him suddenly and they both just stopped, staring at each other, breathing heavily.
“So,” Masayoshi said, chest heaving, sweat shining on his skin. “How does this work?”
Gotou pushed himself up, back to his knees. “You should probably turn over,” he said, and Masayoshi puffed out his cheeks. “It’ll be easier,” he said, face flushed. “On you.”
“I want to see you,” Masayoshi said.
Gotou shook his head. “I’ve got to,” he ran his hand up and down his own cock. His erection hadn’t wilted in the least, he was hard and throbbing when he touched himself, even teasing Masayoshi hadn’t been distraction enough. “I want to make sure I don’t hurt you,” he said, mouth dry.
Masayoshi nodded his head finally, and after a bit of shuffling up the bed, rolled over onto his stomach, knees in the mattress and legs spread. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and wrapped his arms around it glumly. Gotou rested his hand on Masayoshi’s ass, and felt him tremble a bit. He was scared, but that was okay because Gotou was scared too.
He swallowed, and spread Masayoshi’s cheeks, before running his hand down and brushing his fingers over his asshole. Here, he thought, and realized how dry and warm it was. “Lube,” he said suddenly, the thought never occurring to him prior.
Masayoshi twisted his head on the pillow. “Lube?” he repeated, perplexed.
“Yeah.” Gotou pushed his finger, gently, against Masayoshi and felt the resistance. “It’s gonna hurt, and be too dry if we don’t have any lube.”
“Lube’s in, uh,” Masayoshi waved his hand in the air, then indicated the low dresser than ran along the wall. “I think the second drawer over there.”
Gotou did not move, stunned. “You have lube?” he repeated, incredulous.
Masayoshi looked back over his shoulder at Gotou, brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, and Gotou shook his head and didn’t respond, instead sliding off the bed and going to the drawer that Masayoshi indicated. When he pulled it open, sure enough, there was a jar of lubricant … as well as a plethora of tools and small old paints. Gotou unscrewed the jar and made sure there was nothing mixed in with the lube. “What the hell do you use this on?” he said as he climbed back on the bed, setting the jar on the covers against Masayoshi’s thigh. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a hidden stash of dildos around here.” Gotou inclined his head, blushed at thought of Masayoshi spread out on the bed, doing this to himself. “Although that would make this easier.”
“I don’t have anything LIKE that,” Masayoshi said, scandalized. “I use it to lube the joints of my model kits.” He turned partially around, insulted that Gotou would go immediately with baser instincts.
“Of course you do,” Gotou said dryly. He opened the lid of the lube, and looked up when he realized Masayoshi was watching him as well he could. “Last chance to back out,” he offered, and Masayoshi huffed at him.
“If I’m gonna do it with anyone, it’s gonna be Gotou-san,” he said. “I’m not afraid.”
He put his hand on Masayoshi’s thigh and felt him tremble. “Yeah,” Gotou said softly. “Okay.”
In the course of time that he’d known Masayoshi, Gotou had heard him make plenty of noises. Shouting mostly, dramatic speeches, less dramatic but no less impassioned writs about justice and his quest to become a hero, laughter and cheering but … he’d never heard him make any noises like these. Gotou pushed his fingers into Masayoshi again, felt his walls constrict down and squeeze his digits, and Masayoshi made another one of those noises directly into his pillow.
They were amazing. Short little whines, moans, gasps … each one left Gotou shivering. Masayoshi wiggled his hips and pushed them into the mattress, trying to force Gotou to move his fingers more, to fuck him with his hands only. He had his arms around the pillow and his face turned into it, but his hips kept moving, jerking, and Gotou was afraid he was going to hurt Masayoshi. “Stop, stop,” Gotou soothed, pulling his fingers out despite Masayoshi’s whine.
Masayoshi breathed raggedly for a moment before he lifted his head from the pillow, enough for Gotou to hear him speak clearly. “More,” Masayoshi said impatiently, his voice different, thicker. Gotou swallowed, and wondered really who was the corrupted one, here.
Gotou leaned forward, and put his hands on Masayoshi’s hips, tugging him to his knees. “C'mon,” he said, pushing the head of his cock against Masayoshi’s ass. Masayoshi stopped squirming and went completely still, enough so that Gotou was able to work the head of his cock in easily. Masayoshi was so tight though, squeezing down on him it had to be hurting him, and Gotou leaned forward a little, eyes trained on the back of Masayoshi’s head. “'yoshi,” he said heavily. “You okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
Masayoshi inhaled and exhaled, and said in a wondering tone, “you’re inside me, Gotou-san.” He moved a little then inhaled sharply. “Hurts,” he hissed,.
“I knew it,” Gotou said, and moved to withdraw.
“No,” Masayoshi said suddenly. “Don’t, Gotou-san, feels good.” Gotou pulled out anyway, and Masayoshi groaned.
“You just said it hurt,” Gotou said, leaning over Masayoshi’s back, one hand on the mattress under his pillow. “I don’t want to hurt you, I’m not going to do that.”
“Also said it felt good,” Masayoshi huffed. He pushed his hips back, seeking. “It’s both, Gotou-san, you won’t hurt me, please.”
Gotou kissed the back of Masayoshi’s neck, then got back up on his knees. It was a little easier this time, and Masayoshi made a humming noise, eyes closed and face buried again in the pillow. He was hot and tight and wet from the lube and felt so good that Gotou thought he might come right then and there. It took a moment to catch his breath, and as he was trying to calm himself, Masayoshi’s voice, muffled and demanding, said, “more.”
Gotou was used to a lot of strangeness in his life. He’d accepted it, with the company he kept these days. All the same the last thing he expected to happen was to find himself fucking his best friend into the mattress a little after two a.m. on a Saturday morning.
Masayoshi was squalling like a banshee, head thrown back, hair gone wild. He had both his legs up over Gotou’s hips, and Gotou had a pretty good grip on him, balancing his body. Masayoshi’s shoulders were pressed to the mattress, and Gotou loomed above him, using his leverage to drive down and in, each stroke eliciting a new sound from Masayoshi.
He was getting ready to come again, he could feel his balls contracting, feel the surge building in them. There were already rivulets of his seed leaking from Masayoshi, churned up into a froth by their frantic actions, but Gotou had barely even slowed down. Masayoshi was so hot and wet and slick he could barely keep it together, and he tilted forward, holding Masayoshi’s ass in the air still.
Masayoshi got his arms around Gotou’s neck, looping them. It pulled him down further, shoved his dick in deeper. Masayoshi moaned, eyes closed, and Gotou put his hands on the mattress, fisting the sheets as he slammed his body against Masayoshi’s. Masayoshi let out a long, wordless moan, shaking — he’d come again, this time dry as his cock lay against his belly, already spent.
“Masayoshi,” Gotou gasped. “Masayoshi, 'yoshi, ’yoshi-” he was in balls-deep when he came again, twisting his head back, eyes squeezed closed. It was like someone hooked his ribcage behind his heart and pulled, it felt like he emptied all of himself, this time, and Masayoshi’s panting, shuddering breaths cut off into another moan, this time at the lack of movement as Gotou stayed in deep.
“Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, head back against the pillow, eyes closed tight. “Gotou-san….”
Gotou stared down at him, and once he was certain he was able, slowly shifted himself to pull out. The noise was absolutely filthy, squelching and Masayoshi made another whining noise as Gotou collapsed on the bed beside him, spent. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi breathed as Gotou rolled onto his back, completely spent. “Look, it’s gone down.”
He didn’t have to open his eyes to know what Masayoshi meant by that. The exhaustion had slammed into him, and he didn’t want to think about opening his eyes, or getting up to turn off the light, or clean-up, or anything other than lying here. He did however, open his eyes when he felt Masayoshi flop over his chest, because that had been unexpected, and drove the wind out of him. “Masayoshi,” Gotou complained, squinting and gasping.
Masayoshi had rolled over and settled his arms over Gotou’s chest, resting his head on them. “That was amazing,” he said dreamily. “Can we do that again sometime? Tomorrow, maybe?”
“No,” Gotou said, and closed his eyes.
“It felt really good,” Masayoshi murmured. He got up off of Gotou’s chest and pinched his cheeks, and Gotou opened his eyes again angrily and batted at Masayoshi’s hands.
“Stop that!” he said, and Masayoshi leaned over him, both hands on the bed on either side of Gotou’s head. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Masayoshi lowered his head and kissed Gotou, strangely tentative. Gotou wet his lips after the brief kiss, and Masayoshi looked only a little uncertain. “Masayoshi?” Gotou asked, and Masayoshi ducked his head down again, low enough that their noses brushed.
“Traditionally, the first kiss is supposed to happen before sex, right?” Masayoshi asked, eyes twinkling. Gotou groaned and shoved Masayoshi off him, and Masayoshi gave an exhausted, tired laugh before settling in next to Gotou. After a moment, Gotou relented and put his arm around Masayoshi, who smiled happily, and closed his eyes to sleep.
