Samurai Flamenco - Shy [Gotoyoshi]

[scriveyner]

Title: shy
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 816
Summary: Gotou had no idea why he ever thought that Masayoshi would be shy about sex.

Gotou had no idea why he ever thought that Masayoshi would be shy about sex.

At first - okay, he could have made a case about at first, especially in those initial few weeks after they were officially "dating" even though nothing had actually changed that he could see. They met up like they always did - went out to dinner occasionally but more often than not stayed in and ate a meal (not ALWAYS curry) and watched DVDs and just enjoyed each other's company.

Masayoshi blushed red every time that they touched. Hands brushed reaching for the remote, instant blush. Shoulder bump while trying to duck under Gotou's umbrella, red as a tomato. He could even make Masayoshi turn red just by staring at him intently - although when he put this to the test one evening, Masayoshi made a wailing noise and hid in the shower for the better part of half an hour.

He would later realize that Masayoshi was trying to protect him. He didn't want to rush Gotou into anything ... and it took him weeks to realize this, cataloging and putting aside the strange, heated glances Masayoshi would turn on him when he thought Gotou wasn't looking; that moment of hesitation when they parted for the evening, Masayoshi shifting his weight on his feet and trying not to look Gotou in the face - and it all hit him at work when he was in the middle of composing an email about a rash of pick-pocketing.

Gotou locked himself in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes - bad sushi, he'd explained, and Totsuka shuddered in sympathy - and exchanged a very heated email chain with Masayoshi, who wouldn't admit to anything and by denying it all made it very clear that that was exactly what was going on.

Masayoshi met him at the door that night, and they almost didn't make it through the foyer. His kisses were clumsy but Gotou's weren't much better, snapping teeth and probing tongues and gasps for air on the in-between. There wasn't even talk of dinner, just straight to the bedroom, clothing tossed off behind them as they went.

After, when the burning in Gotou's lungs had subsided and Masayoshi tried to squirm out from under him, he wondered why they had waited so long. Masayoshi elbowed him, called him stupid but now Gotou had the ammunition of ticklish spots, and they wrestled themselves off the bed in a tangle of sheets, limbs flailing.

And that was that. They had sex, and it was a wonderful and exhausting addition to their routine. There were always new things to explore - he discovered that Masayoshi liked to bite, not content just to leave hickeys behind but impressions of his teeth on Gotou's skin, sometimes even drawing blood. He discovered that he really liked Masayoshi's hands - strong, nimble fingers that liked to skate across his skin, press into his muscles, scratch along his back - and that fit so well inside him.

It was intoxicating and he couldn't get enough of it. The taste of Masayoshi's breath when he was underneath Gotou, bent nearly double, knees hiked almost to his own shoulders as Gotou pressed in deep; his tone needy and writhing, the filthiest things pouring from his mouth as Gotou moved, rocking into him again and again. The hooded look in his eyes with Gotou in his lap, those wonderful hands holding his hips down as they moved, foreheads pressed together and Gotou trying not to come apart at the seams. Slow, lazy morning sex, their legs tangled together and hands doing all the work.

Masayoshi - Masayoshi, who he figured would be the blushing virgin was the one who would put his hands down Gotou's pants unannounced while he was making lunch; he would stealthily press his foot against Gotou's groin under the tablecloth at a restaurant and grin innocently, he would pin Gotou into the wall of the changing room at the station before his shift and kiss him and grope him and fucking mark him so he had to make sure his collar stood just right to hide the bruise.

Gotou cried out as Masayoshi pressed him down into the bed, fucked him slow and deep. He scrabbled at the bedsheets, but Masayoshi covered both of his hands with his own, held him there, pinned, and breathed into Gotou's neck. He wanted to beg for it harder, tried to convey urgency in the way he pressed his hips back, the way he wriggled but Masayoshi ignored his plea and moved languidly again. They would do this slow build all night, until he came screaming into the mattress, Masayoshi's presence all around him.

He had no idea why he thought Masayoshi would be shy about sex. But he had never been so grateful to be entirely wrong.