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scriveynerTitle: really something
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1792
Summary:
Seeing Masayoshi naked was still as much a surprise as it had been the first time it happened. Gotou stood in the genkan and stared, because Masayoshi was sitting bare-ass naked on his bed, legs crossed under him and grinning like the lunatic he was. “Welcome home, Gotou-san!” Masayoshi chirped, and didn’t move.
“What,” no, that wasn’t the sentence he was trying to get out. “When,” wrong start. Gotou closed his eyes, inhaled, and said firmly, “Why?”
He swore he could hear Masayoshi blink from here, a cute little anime sound effect. “I don’t understand, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, and the cheerful undertone of his voice sounded just a little strained. Gotou opened his eyes again, risked a peek in case Masayoshi had decided to bounce to his feet (he had not), and beelined straight for the mini-fridge under the counter and oh, thank god, there was still beer.
Masayoshi was still seated cross-legged on the bed, and was giving him a strange look by the time Gotou put himself in the doorway. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned, and Gotou’s first thought was, I should be asking you that, followed very quickly by, is he wearing my dress socks?
Well, if he was wearing socks then at least he wasn’t buck-ass naked, that little sing-song voice in the back of his head said.
Freshly liquored up (but not even approaching buzzed), Gotou said finally, “why the hell are you naked?”
Masayoshi blinked and looked down at himself. Then he had the gall to turn pink, and looked back up at Gotou quickly. “Um,” he said.
“Did you,” Gotou’s tone had grown dangerous. “Forget you were naked?”
“No,” Masayoshi said, scandalized. “Of course I didn’t forget!”
“Then why are you naked?”
Masayoshi pondered this for a moment, because clearly it was a difficult question. “For you!” he said finally, resting his hands on his legs and leaning forward enthusiastically, nodding his head. “Because we should have sex!”
Gotou was certain there were things less pleasant than clearing his sinuses of beer, but at the moment he was hard-pressed to think of any. After a prolonged coughing fit, Masayoshi fetched him a handkerchief and he blew his nose and snuffled and then glared at Masayoshi. Then he looked down without thinking about it, promptly turned pink, and returned his gaze to Masayoshi’s face.
“Sex,” he said weakly, making the single word a question.
Masayoshi frowned at him, his brow furrowed. “We’ve had sex before,” he said, and, well, he wasn’t wrong.
“I was very drunk,” Gotou said. It wasn’t a lie.
“I liked it,” Masayoshi said, and there was a tinge of determination in his tone that Gotou was sadly all too familiar with. “I want to do it again.” Somehow he was looking Gotou in the face as he was saying this, although he was working on his best tomato impression at this point.
“I don’t remember-” now this was definitely a lie, because the image of Masayoshi underneath him, eyes gone half-lidded and face slack in pleasure was one he was never going to be able to scrub from his mind even if he wanted to, “-besides, it’s not a good idea, Masayoshi.”
“Why not?” Oh god, don’t look down again. Gotou failed that particular will check, and by the time his eyes completed that quarter-second journey from below Masayoshi’s navel to his face again Masayoshi was already in pout-mode. “Was I that bad?”
“What? No, I-” Masayoshi inched closer and Gotou thought about putting his hand up. “I, I don’t remember,” Gotou backpedaled before Masayoshi could catch him in his lie. “But I’m sure you weren’t, I just don’t think-”
“Stop thinking,” Masayoshi said, his voice soft, and his hand flat on Gotou’s chest. Gotou inhaled quickly and felt the beer can crinkle a little under his grip as Masayoshi stepped into him, eliminating the space between them.
His heart was going like a jackhammer now, thudding against his ribs like it was trying to break free. He swallowed hard and Masayoshi touched his face with one hand, smiling happily and the tension that had been building inside him seemed to snap, all at once. Gotou sighed out an exasperated, affectionate noise, covering Masayoshi’s hand on his face with his free hand. “How long have you been sitting around naked, waiting for me to come home?” he asked.
“Not very long,” Masayoshi said.
“Long enough to forget you were naked,” Gotou murmured.
“I didn’t forget!” Masayoshi was indignant. “I just-”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, cutting him off, and Masayoshi made an inquisitive noise that suddenly shot up an octave when Gotou leaned in to kiss him.
#
It was a tight squeeze for both of them on Gotou’s bed, but they had been making it work ever since the shelf in the futon closet decided to give up the ghost in the middle of the night. However, this was slightly different then trying to squeeze two grown men in a twin bed to sleep; and a little too late Gotou remembered that their first and admittedly more drunken romp had been in a hotel room.
Masayoshi didn’t seem to mind, though; and that was a little more important to him anyway. Still wearing Gotou’s dress socks — My feet were cold, Gotou-san! …only your feet were cold? – feet in the air and hands braced back against the wall as Gotou moved against him. Maybe he was being overly ambitious, but Masayoshi wasn’t making any pained noises, panting loudly as the bed frame banged into the wall, back arched against the bed.
He was moving purely on instinct at this point anyway, blood running primal and hot, Masayoshi’s legs tight over his hips. Gotou shifted his position, putting his knee on the edge of the bed and pulling Masayoshi toward him with motion, supporting his waist and bearing down and as he stroked deep Masayoshi suddenly squalled, the noise ripping from him loud enough to make Gotou freeze in the fear that he’d hurt Masayoshi.
They stared at each other, chests heaving in unison, Masayoshi’s eyes wide and startled and Gotou’s terrified, he didn’t want to ask but at the same time the words were falling out of his mouth faster than he could keep up with. “‘yoshi are you all right, holy shit that sounded-”
He didn’t get to elaborate on what it sounded like because Masayoshi curled forward, grabbing at Gotou’s neck with one hand and trying to force him to move. “Again,” Masayoshi wheezed, and he squeezed his thighs around Gotou’s hips and squeezed him elsewhere, deep in his core and Gotou’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. “Do that again Gotou-san,” and Gotou didn’t have to be told twice, bearing in deep and Masayoshi made that noise again, less startled and more throaty so that Gotou could recognize the pleasure in it now.
He was close now, so close and Masayoshi had curled up against him, arms slung over his shoulders and fingers curling bruisingly hard into Gotou’s skin; Gotou gulped air and stared Masayoshi in the face and felt that strange feeling he’d been chasing twist in his belly hard, felt it surge and then he was gone over the edge, skin gone to static and sparks. Masayoshi’s words against his mouth were more sensation than that he couldn’t separate and catalog; he felt the slickness between them as they rocked still, rutting out the last excesses of sensitivity.
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, overwhelmed still, and the rest of the words didn’t make it out because the bed made a sudden, ominously loud crack.
#
“Maybe we should just get a futon,” Masayoshi suggested, leaned back against the table and seated on a towel. He wasn’t about to complain watching Gotou half-deconstruct a bed while completely naked, but he was missing out on valuable cuddle time, dammit.
Gotou tossed half a bolt onto the floor behind him. “Bedframe’s not broke, just sheared off a bolt,” he said, still sounding more irritated than not. “Not safe to sleep on tonight, though.” He stood up and scowled, hands on his hips. “I bet I’m going to have to special-order the bolt. I can’t believe we broke the bed.”
Masayoshi was paying more attention to Gotou than his words, because he was still sporting a half chub. Masayoshi wiggled a little. “So the bed’s definitely not getting fixed tonight,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll pay for a hotel room if you rail me like that again.”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, and then actually looked at him. “Are you still hard?”
“And how.”
“God.” Gotou pushed his hand back through his hair and let out a short laugh. “We broke the bed having wild sex, and you want to go have more.” He glanced sidelong at Masayoshi after a long moment, considering. “An actual hotel, not a love hotel,” he said.
“Of course,” Masayoshi’s tone was bright. “Ishihara-san would pull out your spine if the media got wind of you taking me to a love hotel, Gotou-san.”
“As opposed to us going to a regular hotel. Together.”
“We’ll go separate.”
“That’s so much work.” Gotou sighed. “You’re so much work. You’re really lucky I like you.”
Masayoshi beamed. “Gotou-san likes me!” He rocked forward, hands on his ankles. “And I love Gotou-san!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gotou said, but his expression was pleased. “Now let’s find your pants.”
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1792
Summary:
Seeing Masayoshi naked was still as much a surprise as it had been the first time it happened. Gotou stood in the genkan and stared, because Masayoshi was sitting bare-ass naked on his bed, legs crossed under him and grinning like the lunatic he was. “Welcome home, Gotou-san!” Masayoshi chirped, and didn’t move.
“What,” no, that wasn’t the sentence he was trying to get out. “When,” wrong start. Gotou closed his eyes, inhaled, and said firmly, “Why?”
He swore he could hear Masayoshi blink from here, a cute little anime sound effect. “I don’t understand, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, and the cheerful undertone of his voice sounded just a little strained. Gotou opened his eyes again, risked a peek in case Masayoshi had decided to bounce to his feet (he had not), and beelined straight for the mini-fridge under the counter and oh, thank god, there was still beer.
Masayoshi was still seated cross-legged on the bed, and was giving him a strange look by the time Gotou put himself in the doorway. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned, and Gotou’s first thought was, I should be asking you that, followed very quickly by, is he wearing my dress socks?
Well, if he was wearing socks then at least he wasn’t buck-ass naked, that little sing-song voice in the back of his head said.
Freshly liquored up (but not even approaching buzzed), Gotou said finally, “why the hell are you naked?”
Masayoshi blinked and looked down at himself. Then he had the gall to turn pink, and looked back up at Gotou quickly. “Um,” he said.
“Did you,” Gotou’s tone had grown dangerous. “Forget you were naked?”
“No,” Masayoshi said, scandalized. “Of course I didn’t forget!”
“Then why are you naked?”
Masayoshi pondered this for a moment, because clearly it was a difficult question. “For you!” he said finally, resting his hands on his legs and leaning forward enthusiastically, nodding his head. “Because we should have sex!”
Gotou was certain there were things less pleasant than clearing his sinuses of beer, but at the moment he was hard-pressed to think of any. After a prolonged coughing fit, Masayoshi fetched him a handkerchief and he blew his nose and snuffled and then glared at Masayoshi. Then he looked down without thinking about it, promptly turned pink, and returned his gaze to Masayoshi’s face.
“Sex,” he said weakly, making the single word a question.
Masayoshi frowned at him, his brow furrowed. “We’ve had sex before,” he said, and, well, he wasn’t wrong.
“I was very drunk,” Gotou said. It wasn’t a lie.
“I liked it,” Masayoshi said, and there was a tinge of determination in his tone that Gotou was sadly all too familiar with. “I want to do it again.” Somehow he was looking Gotou in the face as he was saying this, although he was working on his best tomato impression at this point.
“I don’t remember-” now this was definitely a lie, because the image of Masayoshi underneath him, eyes gone half-lidded and face slack in pleasure was one he was never going to be able to scrub from his mind even if he wanted to, “-besides, it’s not a good idea, Masayoshi.”
“Why not?” Oh god, don’t look down again. Gotou failed that particular will check, and by the time his eyes completed that quarter-second journey from below Masayoshi’s navel to his face again Masayoshi was already in pout-mode. “Was I that bad?”
“What? No, I-” Masayoshi inched closer and Gotou thought about putting his hand up. “I, I don’t remember,” Gotou backpedaled before Masayoshi could catch him in his lie. “But I’m sure you weren’t, I just don’t think-”
“Stop thinking,” Masayoshi said, his voice soft, and his hand flat on Gotou’s chest. Gotou inhaled quickly and felt the beer can crinkle a little under his grip as Masayoshi stepped into him, eliminating the space between them.
His heart was going like a jackhammer now, thudding against his ribs like it was trying to break free. He swallowed hard and Masayoshi touched his face with one hand, smiling happily and the tension that had been building inside him seemed to snap, all at once. Gotou sighed out an exasperated, affectionate noise, covering Masayoshi’s hand on his face with his free hand. “How long have you been sitting around naked, waiting for me to come home?” he asked.
“Not very long,” Masayoshi said.
“Long enough to forget you were naked,” Gotou murmured.
“I didn’t forget!” Masayoshi was indignant. “I just-”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, cutting him off, and Masayoshi made an inquisitive noise that suddenly shot up an octave when Gotou leaned in to kiss him.
It was a tight squeeze for both of them on Gotou’s bed, but they had been making it work ever since the shelf in the futon closet decided to give up the ghost in the middle of the night. However, this was slightly different then trying to squeeze two grown men in a twin bed to sleep; and a little too late Gotou remembered that their first and admittedly more drunken romp had been in a hotel room.
Masayoshi didn’t seem to mind, though; and that was a little more important to him anyway. Still wearing Gotou’s dress socks — My feet were cold, Gotou-san! …only your feet were cold? – feet in the air and hands braced back against the wall as Gotou moved against him. Maybe he was being overly ambitious, but Masayoshi wasn’t making any pained noises, panting loudly as the bed frame banged into the wall, back arched against the bed.
He was moving purely on instinct at this point anyway, blood running primal and hot, Masayoshi’s legs tight over his hips. Gotou shifted his position, putting his knee on the edge of the bed and pulling Masayoshi toward him with motion, supporting his waist and bearing down and as he stroked deep Masayoshi suddenly squalled, the noise ripping from him loud enough to make Gotou freeze in the fear that he’d hurt Masayoshi.
They stared at each other, chests heaving in unison, Masayoshi’s eyes wide and startled and Gotou’s terrified, he didn’t want to ask but at the same time the words were falling out of his mouth faster than he could keep up with. “‘yoshi are you all right, holy shit that sounded-”
He didn’t get to elaborate on what it sounded like because Masayoshi curled forward, grabbing at Gotou’s neck with one hand and trying to force him to move. “Again,” Masayoshi wheezed, and he squeezed his thighs around Gotou’s hips and squeezed him elsewhere, deep in his core and Gotou’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. “Do that again Gotou-san,” and Gotou didn’t have to be told twice, bearing in deep and Masayoshi made that noise again, less startled and more throaty so that Gotou could recognize the pleasure in it now.
He was close now, so close and Masayoshi had curled up against him, arms slung over his shoulders and fingers curling bruisingly hard into Gotou’s skin; Gotou gulped air and stared Masayoshi in the face and felt that strange feeling he’d been chasing twist in his belly hard, felt it surge and then he was gone over the edge, skin gone to static and sparks. Masayoshi’s words against his mouth were more sensation than that he couldn’t separate and catalog; he felt the slickness between them as they rocked still, rutting out the last excesses of sensitivity.
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, overwhelmed still, and the rest of the words didn’t make it out because the bed made a sudden, ominously loud crack.
“Maybe we should just get a futon,” Masayoshi suggested, leaned back against the table and seated on a towel. He wasn’t about to complain watching Gotou half-deconstruct a bed while completely naked, but he was missing out on valuable cuddle time, dammit.
Gotou tossed half a bolt onto the floor behind him. “Bedframe’s not broke, just sheared off a bolt,” he said, still sounding more irritated than not. “Not safe to sleep on tonight, though.” He stood up and scowled, hands on his hips. “I bet I’m going to have to special-order the bolt. I can’t believe we broke the bed.”
Masayoshi was paying more attention to Gotou than his words, because he was still sporting a half chub. Masayoshi wiggled a little. “So the bed’s definitely not getting fixed tonight,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll pay for a hotel room if you rail me like that again.”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, and then actually looked at him. “Are you still hard?”
“And how.”
“God.” Gotou pushed his hand back through his hair and let out a short laugh. “We broke the bed having wild sex, and you want to go have more.” He glanced sidelong at Masayoshi after a long moment, considering. “An actual hotel, not a love hotel,” he said.
“Of course,” Masayoshi’s tone was bright. “Ishihara-san would pull out your spine if the media got wind of you taking me to a love hotel, Gotou-san.”
“As opposed to us going to a regular hotel. Together.”
“We’ll go separate.”
“That’s so much work.” Gotou sighed. “You’re so much work. You’re really lucky I like you.”
Masayoshi beamed. “Gotou-san likes me!” He rocked forward, hands on his ankles. “And I love Gotou-san!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gotou said, but his expression was pleased. “Now let’s find your pants.”
