![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scriveynerTitle: stop thinking
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1455
Summary: Masayoshi sighed contentedly and set his spoon down on the plate. “You make the best curry, Gotou-san!” he said, and beamed.
Masayoshi sighed contentedly and set his spoon down on the plate. “You make the best curry, Gotou-san!” he said, and beamed.
Gotou smiled a little, leaned back against the bed. He’d finished his own plate quicker, and was nursing a well-deserved beer. They had turned off the overhead light, and let the room be lit by the television’s constantly changing glow. There weren’t any new episodes of anything on tonight, and Masayoshi had doggedly caught up on all his ongoing series over the weekend. Gotou had woken up at way too early, and rolled over to see Masayoshi sitting cross-legged in front of the television, hugging a pillow to his chest; Gotou groaned and pulled the covers up over his head in response to that.
He was waiting for Masayoshi to say, ‘let’s put in a DVD, Gotou-san! I just got this new special twentieth anniversary release of this rare early Harakiri Sunshine special!’ so he didn’t suggest anything at all, just half-watched the variety show Masayoshi had turned the television over to. “You’re all flattery tonight,” he responded, and started to haul himself forward to clean up their dishes.
“No!” Masayoshi said, and got to his feet fast. “You cooked, it’s my duty to clean up!”
Gotou hesitated just a minute, to make a show of considering fighting it … but he’d been with Masayoshi long enough to know what to let go. “Suit yourself,” he said and settled back against the bed.
Masayoshi happily cleaned up, humming tunelessly to himself as he cleared the table and took the dishes to the kitchen. Gotou watched him go, eyes drawn to the way his shorts were riding up, stuck to the backs of his thighs. When he realized he was staring Gotou looked away sharply, snapping his eyes to the television and very fiercely waged a war against blushing.
He was allowed to look, after all.
Gotou drowned that thought, and the one that came unbidden after (Masayoshi half in his covers, naked, satisfied and looking at him in a way he didn’t look at anything else, not even the Red Axe standee Gotou had shoved in the closet) with several hearty chugs. That drained the can, and Gotou tossed it onto the table, watching it wobble but not fall.
Masayoshi returned not long after, wiping his damp hands on the aforementioned shorts. He stood at the table for a moment, and Gotou looked up at him – before he came around it and sat down next to Gotou, his back to the bed and an exaggerated huff as he flopped. Gotou raised an eyebrow, and Masayoshi smiled at him. “Thank you for dinner,” he said, and Gotou wet his lips without thinking about it.
Masayoshi’s eyes caught the motion, flicked to his mouth and back to Gotou’s eyes and there was a sudden moment of stillness. “Thanks for cleaning up,” Gotou said, his mouth dry. “I’m gonna smoke,” he said suddenly, just to break the atmosphere that had sprung up, and he could almost feel the disappointment radiate off of Masayoshi as he himself hauled up to his feet. “I’ll just be a minute or two,” he said as he crossed the room and didn’t look back, fetching his cigarettes and lighter from the counter, and ducking out the front door.
#
It was three cigarettes before the panicked urge to text and ask for advice faded. Gotou had very specifically left his phone behind, face down on the table in front of where Masayoshi sat; although the kana were burned into his fingers.
Gotou shut the door quietly behind him, kicked his shoes off and left the cigarettes where he’d picked them up. Masayoshi looked up – he’d pulled his own phone from the charger and the glow from its screen put his features into sharp contrast. “Sorry,” Gotou said, and then resumed his original seat, next to Masayoshi. “Felt a headache coming on.”
Only a little lie, but he felt guilty all the same – he’d bolted. Masayoshi showed him even a hint of intimate affection, and he bolted. He leaned just a little, and Masayoshi looked at him, contemplating, before he leaned in to and kissed Gotou tentatively.
Masayoshi wrinkled his nose. “Ew,” he said. “You taste like tobacco.”
Gotou leaned back against the bed and rolled his eyes. “If you want to complain about it, I just won’t kiss you then,” he said, and Masayoshi leaned into him suddenly, grabbed him by the front of his tee shirt and pulled him back over into another kiss, deeper than the last, bolder. Gotou’s eyes went wide and they parted, Masayoshi’s chest heaving.
“I don’t like the taste,” he said with determination. “But I love Gotou-san, so I’ll put up with it!”
Gotou’s heart was beating dizzingly fast just from that kiss. He wet his lips again, staring at Masayoshi, and his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. He moved forward a little, shifting, the words escaping before he’d properly thought them through. “Well if you don’t like the taste,” he said heavily, “there are other things I can kiss.”
Masayoshi stared at him blankly. He was still too innocent, and Gotou felt like an old pervert at the confusion. “Other things?” Masayoshi repeated, thinking about this and Gotou moved again, put his hand against those too-short shorts, right over the bulge he knew would grow under his hand.
“Other things,” he said, as Masayoshi’s face and ears turned deep, deep red.
“O-oh,” Masayoshi said, but that wasn’t a declination, just surprise. He stiffened – in more ways than one, Gotou noted with detached amusement – and said, a little stilted. “Gotou-san, y-you don’t have to….”
Gotou inhaled, exhaled. He had an out, if he wanted; but…
“Let me,” he said, and slid his hand into the waistband of Masayoshi’s shorts.
#
Masayoshi was hard and wet and slick, and Gotou couldn’t really say that he liked the taste; but he adored the noises Masayoshi made, so it evened out. It was a little awkward on the floor, so he made Masayoshi get up on the bed, both their faces matching shades of pink as Masayoshi sat, legs spread.
Just the sight of him, Masayoshi half naked and hard, perched on the edge of his bed made something hammer through Gotou, and while he had had a plan of some kind it went right out the window and he took Masayoshi right into his mouth. That made Masayoshi smack his shoulder, lean forward and gasp his name in that voice that only he got to hear, and Gotou smirked with Masayoshi still his his mouth and looked up at him through his lashes.
It seemed like Masayoshi just was made for him, he could take most of him without gagging. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, eyes closed when Gotou looked, intense concentration on his face. “I’m gonna, I’m–”
He wasn’t quite prepared, and was actually in the process of pulling off Masayoshi’s cock when he grunted, and came. The fluid splattered, some into Gotou’s open mouth, but as he jerked back some ended up across his nose and up into his hair. He blinked, wide-eyed and surprised as Masayoshi looked down at him, sated and surprised, and when Gotou looked up, the action dawning on him, there was something almost like hunger in Masayoshi’s eyes.
Oh. He liked that.
“Sorry!” Masayoshi said, although the look hadn’t quite left his eye. “I’m so sorry, Gotou-san, let me get a towel–” He reached his hand out toward Gotou, and Gotou caught his wrist, heart still racing, blood pumping wildly in his veins. They stared at each other for a half-second more, and then Gotou wet his lips, tasted Masayoshi there.
“We’re not done,” he said heavily, and Masayoshi’s pupils flared.
“Oh,” he said. Then he smiled.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: NSFW/E
Length: 1455
Summary: Masayoshi sighed contentedly and set his spoon down on the plate. “You make the best curry, Gotou-san!” he said, and beamed.
Masayoshi sighed contentedly and set his spoon down on the plate. “You make the best curry, Gotou-san!” he said, and beamed.
Gotou smiled a little, leaned back against the bed. He’d finished his own plate quicker, and was nursing a well-deserved beer. They had turned off the overhead light, and let the room be lit by the television’s constantly changing glow. There weren’t any new episodes of anything on tonight, and Masayoshi had doggedly caught up on all his ongoing series over the weekend. Gotou had woken up at way too early, and rolled over to see Masayoshi sitting cross-legged in front of the television, hugging a pillow to his chest; Gotou groaned and pulled the covers up over his head in response to that.
He was waiting for Masayoshi to say, ‘let’s put in a DVD, Gotou-san! I just got this new special twentieth anniversary release of this rare early Harakiri Sunshine special!’ so he didn’t suggest anything at all, just half-watched the variety show Masayoshi had turned the television over to. “You’re all flattery tonight,” he responded, and started to haul himself forward to clean up their dishes.
“No!” Masayoshi said, and got to his feet fast. “You cooked, it’s my duty to clean up!”
Gotou hesitated just a minute, to make a show of considering fighting it … but he’d been with Masayoshi long enough to know what to let go. “Suit yourself,” he said and settled back against the bed.
Masayoshi happily cleaned up, humming tunelessly to himself as he cleared the table and took the dishes to the kitchen. Gotou watched him go, eyes drawn to the way his shorts were riding up, stuck to the backs of his thighs. When he realized he was staring Gotou looked away sharply, snapping his eyes to the television and very fiercely waged a war against blushing.
He was allowed to look, after all.
Gotou drowned that thought, and the one that came unbidden after (Masayoshi half in his covers, naked, satisfied and looking at him in a way he didn’t look at anything else, not even the Red Axe standee Gotou had shoved in the closet) with several hearty chugs. That drained the can, and Gotou tossed it onto the table, watching it wobble but not fall.
Masayoshi returned not long after, wiping his damp hands on the aforementioned shorts. He stood at the table for a moment, and Gotou looked up at him – before he came around it and sat down next to Gotou, his back to the bed and an exaggerated huff as he flopped. Gotou raised an eyebrow, and Masayoshi smiled at him. “Thank you for dinner,” he said, and Gotou wet his lips without thinking about it.
Masayoshi’s eyes caught the motion, flicked to his mouth and back to Gotou’s eyes and there was a sudden moment of stillness. “Thanks for cleaning up,” Gotou said, his mouth dry. “I’m gonna smoke,” he said suddenly, just to break the atmosphere that had sprung up, and he could almost feel the disappointment radiate off of Masayoshi as he himself hauled up to his feet. “I’ll just be a minute or two,” he said as he crossed the room and didn’t look back, fetching his cigarettes and lighter from the counter, and ducking out the front door.
It was three cigarettes before the panicked urge to text and ask for advice faded. Gotou had very specifically left his phone behind, face down on the table in front of where Masayoshi sat; although the kana were burned into his fingers.
Gotou shut the door quietly behind him, kicked his shoes off and left the cigarettes where he’d picked them up. Masayoshi looked up – he’d pulled his own phone from the charger and the glow from its screen put his features into sharp contrast. “Sorry,” Gotou said, and then resumed his original seat, next to Masayoshi. “Felt a headache coming on.”
Only a little lie, but he felt guilty all the same – he’d bolted. Masayoshi showed him even a hint of intimate affection, and he bolted. He leaned just a little, and Masayoshi looked at him, contemplating, before he leaned in to and kissed Gotou tentatively.
Masayoshi wrinkled his nose. “Ew,” he said. “You taste like tobacco.”
Gotou leaned back against the bed and rolled his eyes. “If you want to complain about it, I just won’t kiss you then,” he said, and Masayoshi leaned into him suddenly, grabbed him by the front of his tee shirt and pulled him back over into another kiss, deeper than the last, bolder. Gotou’s eyes went wide and they parted, Masayoshi’s chest heaving.
“I don’t like the taste,” he said with determination. “But I love Gotou-san, so I’ll put up with it!”
Gotou’s heart was beating dizzingly fast just from that kiss. He wet his lips again, staring at Masayoshi, and his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. He moved forward a little, shifting, the words escaping before he’d properly thought them through. “Well if you don’t like the taste,” he said heavily, “there are other things I can kiss.”
Masayoshi stared at him blankly. He was still too innocent, and Gotou felt like an old pervert at the confusion. “Other things?” Masayoshi repeated, thinking about this and Gotou moved again, put his hand against those too-short shorts, right over the bulge he knew would grow under his hand.
“Other things,” he said, as Masayoshi’s face and ears turned deep, deep red.
“O-oh,” Masayoshi said, but that wasn’t a declination, just surprise. He stiffened – in more ways than one, Gotou noted with detached amusement – and said, a little stilted. “Gotou-san, y-you don’t have to….”
Gotou inhaled, exhaled. He had an out, if he wanted; but…
“Let me,” he said, and slid his hand into the waistband of Masayoshi’s shorts.
Masayoshi was hard and wet and slick, and Gotou couldn’t really say that he liked the taste; but he adored the noises Masayoshi made, so it evened out. It was a little awkward on the floor, so he made Masayoshi get up on the bed, both their faces matching shades of pink as Masayoshi sat, legs spread.
Just the sight of him, Masayoshi half naked and hard, perched on the edge of his bed made something hammer through Gotou, and while he had had a plan of some kind it went right out the window and he took Masayoshi right into his mouth. That made Masayoshi smack his shoulder, lean forward and gasp his name in that voice that only he got to hear, and Gotou smirked with Masayoshi still his his mouth and looked up at him through his lashes.
It seemed like Masayoshi just was made for him, he could take most of him without gagging. “Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said, eyes closed when Gotou looked, intense concentration on his face. “I’m gonna, I’m–”
He wasn’t quite prepared, and was actually in the process of pulling off Masayoshi’s cock when he grunted, and came. The fluid splattered, some into Gotou’s open mouth, but as he jerked back some ended up across his nose and up into his hair. He blinked, wide-eyed and surprised as Masayoshi looked down at him, sated and surprised, and when Gotou looked up, the action dawning on him, there was something almost like hunger in Masayoshi’s eyes.
Oh. He liked that.
“Sorry!” Masayoshi said, although the look hadn’t quite left his eye. “I’m so sorry, Gotou-san, let me get a towel–” He reached his hand out toward Gotou, and Gotou caught his wrist, heart still racing, blood pumping wildly in his veins. They stared at each other for a half-second more, and then Gotou wet his lips, tasted Masayoshi there.
“We’re not done,” he said heavily, and Masayoshi’s pupils flared.
“Oh,” he said. Then he smiled.
