Samurai Flamenco - Zip Me [Gotoyoshi]

[scriveyner]

Title: zip me
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: M
Length: 1478
Summary: It was an early-established rule that there was to be no funny business in uniform.

It was an early-established rule that there was to be no funny business in uniform. For one thing, Masayoshi’s costume was an absolute production to get him out of in a hurry. Gotou didn’t know how he managed to get himself into it on his own, or how he managed to remove it solo, all things considered. He couldn’t even fathom how it would work if they were trying to get Masayoshi out of it quickly to have sex. Usually Masayoshi was worn out and/or bleeding by that point so it had never really come up as an option - although more than once they’d ended up kissing, half of Masayoshi’s outfit on the floor and bandages half-unspooled on the low table behind Gotou.

There was also the addendum that the funny business extended to Gotou’s work uniform in all its variations, but that got thrown out intentionally by Masayoshi when he gave Gotou a very thorough blowjob in the changing room of the station one evening. He hadn’t forgiven Masayoshi for that stunt quite yet, but he’d more than made up for it - and that was a day that Gotou was the most senior officer on duty, if the other officer knew what had happened he had kept his mouth shut. There had been no other such incidents, and as far as Gotou was concerned there would be no more - the uniform was on the clock, there wasn’t time for shenanigans. Masayoshi of all people should understand that.

Most of the costumes had gone to the museum Kaname started - thankfully; Gotou didn’t know where they would all fit in his closet - but the one remained. It was the one styled similar to the costume Masayoshi had been wearing around the time Gotou had first met him, a simple bodysuit. Occasionally he’d return from his shift to find both Masayoshi and the costume gone - he would sigh, drink a beer and wait for the inevitable call from Masayoshi to come rescue him from some nonsense. Some nights he would be more proactive, switch out into trousers and running shoes and go looking in all of Masayoshi’s usual haunts.

More often than not these days the costume stayed in the closet, and Gotou would come home to find Masayoshi sitting on a cushion and laughing at the television, or attempting to start dinner. A few times Gotou had returned to find that it wasn’t just Masayoshi in the apartment, the Flamenco Girls may have dropped by (“to check in on things,” Mari would announce officiously), or a random Flamenger (usually Blue or, strangely enough, Black - although Gotou much preferred Black’s company, he seemed the sanest of the lot, all things being equal).

Tonight though, it seemed plenty quiet when Gotou unlocked the door - the lights were on, but the television wasn’t. That in and of itself was highly unusual, and set him the tiniest bit on edge. “Masayoshi?” Gotou called, slipping off his work shoes. “I’m home, are you here?”

There was a clatter from the bathroom, and Gotou smiled as he heard the faint sound of Masayoshi yelping. He knocked on the bathroom door as he loosened his tie. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” Masayoshi said, and opened the door. “You’re back early.”

Gotou stared at him, hand frozen on the knot of his tie. Masayoshi touched his wet head gingerly and winced. “I know, I know,” he said. “They told me it was gonna wash out.”

“Your hair is red,” Gotou said.

“You should see it when it’s dry,” Masayoshi said with a sigh and rubbed at the side of his head with a towel. “Ishihara-san had kittens at the hairdresser and the production company both though, that was entertaining. And scary.” He frowned, and settled his hands on the towel.

“Ah,” Gotou said. He stood a moment more in the doorway, eyes fixated on Masayoshi’s hair - then realized he was blocking Masayoshi in and moved out of the way.

“It looks really bad, doesn’t it?” Masayoshi walked back into the main room bare-chested and flopped dramatically onto the bed. Gotou winced at his dripping head, but it didn’t seem like the dye was running - it was professionally done, after all. “I wonder if they can dye it back.”

Gotou wandered over to the closet, finally slipping the tie off. “It doesn’t look that bad,” he said. “It just is really different on you.”

“You’re lying,” Masayoshi tugged at his damp bangs and dragged them down into his eyes. “I look like an anime character.”

“Well, yeah,” Gotou unbuttoned his shirt, his back to Masayoshi. “But you’ve always managed that, I think it comes with the territory of being a superhero-who-saved-the-world.” He grinned. “Now you just have the coloring to match.”

Masayoshi made a disgruntled sound from closer than Gotou was anticipating. He jumped a little when Masayoshi threaded his arms under Gotou’s and started working on unbuttoning him from the bottom of his untucked shirt. “‘yoshi,” Gotou murmured as Masayoshi tucked his chin over Gotou’s shoulder to supervise.

“I’ve had a shit day,” Masayoshi murmured. “Please…”

This was treading dangerously close to the uniform rule, but he could feel Masayoshi’s breath through the thin material of the dress shirt and that lowered his defenses dramatically. Masayoshi tilted his damp head toward Gotou’s - he could smell the dye, thick and unnatural and strangely sweet-smelling, and he gave up.

The last button came undone under his own hands, and Masayoshi’s nimble fingers slid down his skin and headed further south, to pluck at his belt. “You’re dripping on my shirt,” Gotou said, and Masayoshi moved a little - kissed the back of his neck but then disengaged, allowing Gotou to shrug off his dress shirt and turn around.

“It’s just water,” Masayoshi said, when Gotou frowned at the damp patch on his shoulder. “It won’t stain.”

“No uniforms,” Gotou grumbled. He fended off Masayoshi’s hands before they could tuck into the waistband of his trousers. “Give me two minutes, I’ll be out of them-”

“It’s more fun if I get to undress you,” Masayoshi pouted. Gotou was busy unbuckling his belt, he didn’t have a hand available to ward off Masayoshi this time, and Masayoshi slid both of his hands into the back of Gotou’s trousers. Gotou scowled and furrowed his brow, but Masayoshi was in his space and he couldn’t avoid the kiss even if he wanted to, abrupt and aggressive as it was. Gotou groaned his resignation into the kiss and let Masayoshi help slide the trousers down over his hips, until gravity took the rest and they puddled to the ground around his ankles. Now with his own hands free he worked them up to Masayoshi’s face, holding him there.

There had been a point not too long ago where they both stumbled over their kisses, unsure what to do with tongues and teeth clacking together - they had moved past that quickly, thankfully - Masayoshi’s mouth on his was warm and welcoming, and his hands slid back to tangle in Masayoshi’s damp hair. Gotou stepped out of the puddle of his trousers, and remembered they were lying in a wrinkled heap on the floor when his foot snagged on them. “One second, one second-” he gasped before Masayoshi covered his mouth again.

It took some doing to disentangle finally. Masayoshi pouted at him as he hung his trousers and ran a hand down the material, hoping that they wouldn’t wrinkle too badly, since they were only on the floor for a few moments. Masayoshi sighed into his ear. “Enough,” he murmured, and Gotou grinned again - there was certainly something to be said for the times when Masayoshi felt like taking charge - especially when he felt Masayoshi’s fingers firmly on his hip, as he steered him purposefully toward the bed.