aviy (aviy) wrote in ironman7, @ 2007-09-03 11:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | aviy, katekyo hitman reborn, week 2: prompt 5 |
Katekyo Hitman Reborn (Yamamoto/Gokudera) [Week 2 - Prompt 5]
MY PORN ENDS UP TOO LONG. I-I have another with like 5k words to it that won't be going up because the week is over and I'm not done yeeet x.x
Title: n/a
Author: Aviy
Rating: Not worksafe
Warnings: Nothing as long as you don't mind the occasional blood drenched clothing. Also. buttsecks.
Word Count: 4,750
Author's Notes: Not quite up to the future arc, but older. Perhaps 20 or so.
Gokudera noticed the smell before anything else. Despite his lifelong dedication to the mafia, it was rare to run across the pure, undiluted scent of blood. When he killed, the smells of smoke, ozone, and charred flesh could hang over the area for days. But that was his style. The other members of the family tended to kill cleanly, if they had to at all. That was in battle situations though. Here, in the base, there shouldn't be any violence of that level going on, the Tenth would never allow it.
Gritting his teeth around a cigarette Gokudera shoved back from the kitchen table he'd been reading the morning paper at, and stalked toward the hallway. It was probably that bastard Hibari; he'd finally actually bitten someone to death and then dragged his kill home like the freak of nature he was.
That, at least, would have made sense. As disturbing as it might have been, Gokudera wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find the carnivorous asshole dragging a mauled body down the hallway, with no regard for how the Tenth would feel about that. Gokudera would have yelled at him, they’d have fought, and in five minutes the body would have been half cooked as well but it would have been predictably normal. What he wasn’t prepared for was to step out into the hall, fingers already reaching for a stick of dynamite, to find that the only person there was that baseball freak Yamamoto with something dark running down his cheeks.
Yamamoto didn’t notice him right away, something altogether strange enough that it made Gokudera’s eyebrows raise. But it was also impossible to miss that Yamamoto was the only one the cloying smell could be coming from. Though beyond that the dark spatter on his cheeks, Gokudera couldn’t see any of it. Yamamoto wore a black suit like the rest of them, and even if he smelled drenched in it, it didn’t show at all in the half-light of their base’s hallway. Gokudera looked down to see if there were any tracks, but found none. Yamamoto had taken off his shoes upon entering the base.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Yamamoto noticed him then, looked up, and met Gokudera’s eyes with a start. The smile and laugh followed instantly, half a second slower than usual but no more. It only made the fact that the look didn’t reach his eyes that much more disturbing. Hadn’t the bastard learned that he could glare and curse if he wanted to?
“Sorry,” Yamamoto said, lifting a hand like he was going to make his habitual head scratch but thinking better of it when he saw all the blood darkening his finger tips. “Guess I stink, huh?”
“No shit.” Gokudera took a heavy drag of his cigarette. “What the hell are you just standing out here for?”
“Heh, uh…” Yamamoto stared at his hands again, then glanced over to the door knob with a helpless shrug. “I didn’t want to get it everywhere.”
Making a disgusted tch in his throat, Gokudera walked forward and curled his hand into Yamamoto’s jacket, ignoring the cold sticky feel that met his touch and the way Yamamoto tried to scramble out of his reach. “You idiot,” Gokudera said, turning open the door to Yamamoto’s room and dragging him in. “What the hell do you think’ll happen if Tenth sees you like that? Get in here.”
Yamamoto didn’t laugh as Gokudera hauled him past the threshold, which was good because Gokudera might have hit him. It wasn’t like it was hard to tell the baseball freak wasn’t taking it well. Gokudera was willing to give him credit in a lot of ways, but however much skill he had acquired, taking a life he was just never going to be good at. Normally, Reborn gave those missions to the biting bastard or Gokudera himself. Yamamoto must’ve been attacked by another family, which also wouldn’t’ve been so bad but apparently it’d been messy. Why the hell had someone who had a problem with blood spray decided to use a sword for a weapon anyway?
Gokudera didn’t let go as they entered Yamamoto’s room and instead continued to pull him through another door. He switched on the lights as they entered.
“H-hey! Woah! You can let go now, Gokudera.” Yamamoto blinked several times in the bright light of his bathroom. He caught a look at himself in the wall length mirror and paused to stare. Now that they were under better lighting, Gokudera could faintly make out the burgundy sheen that seemed to layer the entirety of Yamamoto’s black three-piece. Even the tie wasn’t spared, and the slice of dress shirt Gokudera could see through the jacket was red, brown, or smeared somewhere in between. What the hell had the baseball freak gotten into?
Gokudera cut a sideways glance at Yamamoto in the mirror. He plucked the cigarette from his own mouth and tossed it into the sink. “Any of it yours?” Gokudera waited a moment, and when Yamamoto didn’t immediately answer, pulled hard on his lapel again. “Who the hell are you ignoring?”
Yamamoto leaned in with Gokudera’s pull easily, and managed to dredge up his usual smile. “Sorry, sorry. I was thinking.” He glanced at himself in the mirror again until Gokudera jerked insistently on his jacket once more. “Haha… I’m fine, really. Just a few cuts.”
Nodding, Gokudera let out the breath he’d been holding. Tenth hated it whenever one of them ended up sleeping in the infirmary. They’d been trying to cut back on it. “Good,” he said, and with a shove drove Yamamoto away from his fascination with his reflection and in through the open glass door of the tiled shower.
At first Yamamoto didn’t really seem to get it. Typical, really, and so Gokudera ignored the confused “Gokudera?” as he slid close the door, and turned on the shower at full blast, twisting the ‘hot’ handle enough that it would feel like scalding once the water warmed up.
They were both still in their clothes, but Gokudera stayed more or less out of the way of the jet of water. Yamamoto didn’t flinch under it, though the initial torrent was ice cold, but just blinked and raked his hair back as it got wet and started to stream into his face.
As he stood there, the water colored instantly, running off Yamamoto’s jacket and pants, down his long arms in rivulets that puddled pink on the shower floor. Every once in a while a larger clot of dark blood would swirl around down there as well, but neither of them were looking at it that closely. Gokudera was waiting, brows lowered, to see if Yamamoto was going to be a moron anymore or not. When he saw the telltale signs of the corners of Yamamoto’s mouth lifting, ready to curve up and show teeth, eyebrows raised harmlessly, Gokudera growled hard and leveled his most effective “I will kill you” look directly at him. Yamamoto winced and raised both hands in surrender.
“Good.” Gokudera said shortly, under his breath, and now that the water was warming up shoved Yamamoto hard until his back thudded against the tile and began to undress him.
The jacket went first, and since Yamamoto almost never bothered to button his up it came off easily. Gokudera held it up for a minute in disgust, blood darkened water falling from it in a sheet, before he wrung it out, shouldered open the shower door and tossed the article into the bathroom’s wastebasket. When he closed the door and turned back again, Yamamoto was still standing under the water, still smart enough to not say anything, but had on soft sort of smile that was still annoying but not as bad as the other one.
Yamamoto tilted his head back into the stream of water and let it flow over him while Gokudera worked on the buttons of his dress shirt.
This one was harder. The shirt was well fitting when dry. Wet it clung to Yamamoto’s chest in fashion that was far more distracting that Gokudera would readily admit. If not for the bloodstains splashed across it, Gokudera would have been sorely tempted to lean forward and take the nipples denting the fabric between his teeth. Feeling his cheeks warm slightly at the mental image, he turned his attention back to the buttons that didn’t want to slide out of their holes easily. He was patient enough to work the first two out the right way, the remaining four he jerked off between two fingers with a frown. It wasn’t as if Yamamoto’d be keeping the damn thing anyway.
The shirt joined the jacket in the trash.
“Hey,” Yamamoto said as Gokudera turned back. He looked a bit better once again, and Gokudera half figured he might be lucky enough for the freak to be back to normal once the pants were gone. Yamamoto had grabbed a bar of soap and was sudsing up his hands, the bubbles turned pink instantly, but when he held them under the water the majority of the blood washed free. “There.” He stretched out his mostly clean hands and set the bar of soap aside, pausing a second to scratch off a last stubborn fleck of blood with a nail.
Gokudera grunted in the back of his throat and glared skyward.
“Sorry.” Yamamoto grinned and shrugged, like nothing could be done. “I didn’t want to touch you like that.”
“Idiot.” Gokudera stepped closer, and didn’t resist when Yamamoto’s hands fisted in his jacket and dragged him closer still. He was under the water now too; it was slowly saturating his suit and dripping into his shoes. “I’m not the one who has problems with it.”
They were close enough that Gokudera could still hear Yamamoto’s responding soft laugh despite the hiss of the shower around them. A hand reached up and brushed with a casual gentleness at the wet bangs clinging to Gokudera’s forehead and cheeks. Yamamoto said, “Guess it’s pretty pathetic for someone in the mafia, huh?”
“Whatever,” Gokudera growled, pulling at Yamamoto’s tie until it came undone. This time he just let it slide to the floor instead of bothering to throw it away. “Just don’t get drenched in it then.”
“Guess I’ll be more careful,” Yamamoto said, tilting Gokudera’s face up to him.
Yamamoto leaned in, his lips touching Gokudera’s cheeks with brief, soft kisses that he could barely feel under the warmth of the water, but were still enough to make Gokudera think his partner was ridiculous anyway. He was going to complain, for what had to be the thousandth time, that he wasn’t a girl and if Yamamoto was going to treat him like one then he would kick his lanky baseball freak ass. Gokudera opened his mouth to say as much, and Yamamoto sealed their mouths together.
Gokudera kissed hard, and for once Yamamoto matched his reckless, step for step. Neither bled, yet, this time, but Gokudera pinned Yamamoto to the wall and dragged his teeth over the other’s water-slick lips, and Yamamoto returned the favor by mashing their mouths together until both bruised and Gokudera could feel his lungs demanding oxygen.
The heat of the shower really only added to it. Gokudera thought he might be sweating. His temperature rose in the steam, his body was still trapped in his own sodden suit, and with the warmth of a tongue curling against his on top of that, Gokudera couldn’t find much restraint once he got started. He panted under the weight of it, between hungry kisses, and found refuge in pressing against Yamamoto, whose body actually seemed cool in comparison to everything else. And Yamamoto dragged him close, because the bastard always liked to touch in general and in these situations never did seem to get enough of it. Though this time reason might have been a bit different, judging by the way one hand still clutched tightly to Gokudera’s shirt, at odds with the other, which threaded into his hair and angled his head back for another deep kiss.
Sliding his hands down Yamamoto’s torso, Gokudera curled his fingers into the wet fabric of the bloodied pants; the only offending article left. The button on these came undone easily, wet or not, Gokudera’d gotten good at this part lately, and he reached his hand in past the half down zip and low slung boxers to curl around Yamamoto’s cock. Despite what had happened and the disfavorable situation of his clothes, Yamamoto was already half hard, and at the feel of Gokudera’s hand he gave a soft groan and broke off the kiss to run his mouth along Gokudera’s jaw line, encouraging.
Gokudera stroked him, two, three times, using the calloused pads of his fingers to his advantage, and Yamamoto swung his hips loosely into Gokudera’s grip in response. By the time Yamamoto was completely erect, his mouth had begun a distracting course down the side of Gokudera’s neck. Long fingers dragged at Gokudera’s tie and collar so that lips and tongue could reach just a bit further down. Tilting his head to the side, eyes slitted against the water raining down around them, Gokudera shrugged out of his own jacket and flung it against the back of the shower. It hit the ground with a heavy thud that spoke of more than just water weight. Gokudera hissed. “Shit. I forgot.”
“Mmm~?” Yamamoto murmured, not shifting his attention as he raked his teeth over the juncture of Gokudera’s neck and shoulder. Gokudera cursed in an entirely different matter and curled one hand into Yamamoto’s hair, urging him to do that again. Yamamoto did without complaint.
“My dynamite,” Gokudera answered a second later, breathing hard between words. The heat of the shower, his clothing, his blood and everything was starting to make him a little light headed. “Gonna have to dry it out.”
Something about that must have struck Yamamoto’s always idiotic sense of humor, since Gokudera felt the other’s mouth curve up against his neck. “Shut up,” he growled, not needing to know what was funny to know he didn’t like being laughed at. “And get out of those pants already.”
“Right, right.” Yamamoto finally released his clutching grip on Gokudera’s shirt and yanked the bloodied pants and underwear down over his slim hips. Stepping out of them, he bent to pick them up as well, but Gokudera hooked one shoe under the drenched material first and yanked it away. He wasn’t giving Yamamoto another chance to feel traumatized over such a stupid thing. Gokudera twisted the water out of the pants and flung them into the same wastebasket the jacket and shirt had gone. The trash bin was full now, and Yamamoto completely naked. Gokudera took a second to look him once over; less for the obvious reasons and more to make sure Yamamoto’d been telling the truth when he said he was fine. He was able to pick out a few shallow slashes, blood-welled scabs standing out against Yamamoto’s pale skin, but otherwise he was untouched. Nothing to worry the Tenth with, then.
Yamamoto waited patiently while Gokudera inspected him, and when he passed, hooked his fingers into the hem of Gokudera’s pants and dragged him closer. “Come on.” Yamamoto was no longer trying for a full out smile, but his eyes were half lidded and he was looking content; an expression Gokudera found considerably less annoying. Yamamoto shoved their lips together again, mouth eager and a bit sloppy, while his hands plucked open Gokudera’s pants and dragged them down.
It took some work to get his lower half undressed. They’d both forgotten about his shoes, and Gokudera had to toe them off with his pants still pooled around his ankles. When he was finally free of all of it, socks as well, he kicked the entire pile back toward where his jacket had landed. They hit with a similar weighty thud. The lips pressing against Gokudera’s curved upwards in response, and Gokudera growled briefly in his throat. He shoved at Yamamoto’s shoulder but the bastard refused to let him go, wrapping his long limbs low around Gokudera’s waist and rocked their hips together.
That felt good, and Gokudera allowed himself to be distracted by it. He took a step forward until Yamamoto was once again forced solidly against the shower wall, and when he rolled their hips together this time it was hard enough that Gokudera’s vision momentarily blurred. He pulled away from the kiss to drag in a slow breath of warm air and felt Yamamoto’s hands slide down to cup his ass, a soft kiss pressed to his forehead.
“What—“
“Stay here,” Yamamoto said, and, still smiling, slid down the wall.
“Yama— ah…fuck.” Gokudera’s eyes closed automatically and he felt himself bite his own lip, but didn’t really notice it in favor of thrusting his cock helplessly into Yamamoto’s mouth.
Yamamoto was sitting down in the shower, legs crossed Indian style, with his arms still draped around Gokudera’s waist but now from a different angle. He didn’t make any attempt to hold Gokudera back, so Gokudera curled one hand into Yamamoto’s dark hair and swung his hips forward, shuddering over the feeling of Yamamoto’s tongue dragging along his length.
It was almost too hot in here now, but Gokudera didn’t even consider turning up the cold water faucet. For some reason Yamamoto seemed completely fine in it. And normally temperature wasn’t an issue for him, but the constant, cloying heat of the water and the steam and his blood racing from the sex felt very different from the fire flash of an explosion. Gokudera would have tried to at least peel off the wet, white button up still clinging to him, but his dick was in Yamamoto’s mouth and he didn’t think his hands would be steady enough to manage the buttons.
Blinking several times, until droplets of water fell away from his eyelashes, Gokudera looked downward and let out another jagged breath. Beautiful wasn’t a word he really associated with much, and sure as hell not this, but there was something undeniably attractive about Yamamoto sitting so carelessly, eyes half-lidded while he drew his lips back across Gokudera’s cock. As he reached the head, Gokudera felt Yamamoto lick it thoroughly, then tease the slit with the tip of his tongue. Gokudera cursed and groaned and reached up to grab the extended bar of the showerhead to steady himself.
The entire time Yamamoto’s mouth had been at work, his hands had been at Gokudera’s hips and ass, occasionally holding him steady, occasionally groping. Gokudera himself hadn’t been paying much attention to it, far too distracted by other sensations, and so almost misses it when Yamamoto slides the first finger into him. The second, though, was much more noticeable, if not more painful and Gokudera shifts backward as it enters.
The first few times, the feeling of being invaded like that really had felt like an invasion, and he’d had to resist instinctual urges to reach for a stick of dynamite to use on Yamamoto. Now he welcomed it, though thinking of it like that made his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Having someone in him that way felt good. It didn’t at all hurt that Yamamoto’s fingers were long, and knew exactly where to reach to send a jolt of pleasure arcing through him. Gokudera gasped as Yamamoto did just that, fingers tightening desperately in Yamamoto’s hair and pulling, not hard but enough that Yamamoto caught the hint and took in Gokudera as far as he could. Gokudera felt his cock nudge against the back of Yamamoto’s throat, resting on tongue and teeth, and as Yamamoto began to draw back, sucking hard, he thrust his fingers in again as well and Gokudera arched, immobile, caught between Yamamoto’s mouth and hand and not wanting to move away from either sensation to get closer to another.
He could have come like that easily, just from another time or two. But he knew from experience that if he got off like this he would feel too tired to really enjoy returning the favor, and that ultimately lead to Yamamoto coming up with own ideas. So, gritting his teeth and taking a slow breath, Gokudera pulled Yamamoto away from him, just far enough that Yamamoto’s lips left his cock entirely. “Wait.” His voice sounded ragged and low in his own ears, but Yamamoto seemed to hear it despite the surrounding patter of the shower. He licked his own lips and looked up at Gokudera. Yamamoto was no longer smiling but his eyes were half lidded and attentive, and Gokudera was sure Yamamoto would continue to bring him off like this without a second thought.
Gokudera shook his head and began to lower himself to his knees. Yamamoto withdrew his fingers and held Gokudera by the hips, guiding him down until Gokudera could feel the head of Yamamoto’s cock pressing against his entrance.
Planting his left hand against the wall beside Yamamoto’s head, leaving his other curled in dark hair, Gokudera shoved his lips against Yamamoto’s hungrily. There was a subtle difference to the taste now, a saltiness that must be his own precome. Gokudera ran their tongues together until the taste thinned and disappeared, and as he pulled back to drag his teeth across Yamamoto’s swollen bottom lip, the other leaned forward and dragged him back into another kiss. Gokudera allowed it, and while Yamamoto’s tongue exploring his mouth with familiar strokes, he tensed himself and sat down until Yamamoto’s cock pushed past the ring of muscle and all the way in.
Yamamoto’s eyes widened at first, like he hadn’t been expecting Gokudera to just take him in so easily, then lowered again a moment later. His mouth slipped away from the kiss and down Gokudera’s neck. He trailed an erratic mixture of soft bites and hard kisses until reaching Gokudera’s shoulder where Yamamoto just bit him outright, his teeth pricking even through the wet fabric of Gokudera’s shirt. Gokudera swore several times at that, confident that it wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, half wishing it had been, but either way no complaining. Yamamoto seemed to take the curses for the encouragement they were, because he does it again. When Gokudera straightened under the feeling, sitting tall, muscles tightened to move, Yamamoto’s hands grabbed at his hips and helped lift him up a few inches, then pull him back down again in a smooth thrust.
Gokudera’s eyes closed and his fingers scrabbled against the cool tile for a moment. He said, “fuck,” and grit his teeth and moved one hand to Yamamoto’s shoulder and the other to the base of a water faucet and used both as leverage to rise up along Yamamoto’s cock, further this time, and then push back down. He heard Yamamoto say his name, but with the tone of voice Gokudera knew he didn’t have to listen to so much as just take as an incentive to keep going. So he did, letting his eyes lose focus and setting up a rhythm between the muscles of his arms and his legs to rise and fall as far as he could without Yamamoto ever quite slipping out of him. Each time he moved back down Gokudera would pause, just a moment, to enjoy the feeling, to regain control of his legs after the feeling, and then pull himself back up again.
A low moan reached Gokudera’s ears, and he realized after a disoriented moment that it was Yamamoto for once. Surprisingly, the baseball freak was actually pretty damn quiet during this sort of thing when he wasn’t talking, and Gokudera had made a concentrated effort to get him out of the talking habit. Now though, Yamamoto was leaning into him, not disturbing Gokudera in his actions but just curling as close as he could. One hand wrapped around Gokudera’s cock and stroked in time with his movements, and in return Gokudera tightened himself around Yamamoto, slowing just enough to fuck himself up and down on the other’s length while squeezing until Yamamoto’s breathing shuddered.
“Come on,” Gokudera murmured, words not forming well but Yamamoto seemed to get the hint when Gokudera stopped all together and leaned back. Yamamoto shifted, rose to his knees while almost cradling Gokudera to him, and moved them both down to the shower floor.
The shower was big, but not big enough for either to stretch out. But that wasn’t necessary. Gokudera stretched his legs to hike around Yamamoto’s narrow hips, and his head rested back against his own jacket, where it’d been left in the corner earlier. The fabric was cool now, and felt almost freezing against Gokudera’s overheated flesh. He tilted his head back into it while Yamamoto gained a good position and began to rock into him.
Gokudera didn’t have to tell Yamamoto faster or harder for once, though he did anyway, in truth they were both already there. Yamamoto’s breathing deepened, hot and humid against Gokudera’s ear, and he fucked in and out of Gokudera with a steady and solid pace.
Gokudera came quickly like that. He’d been on the edge long enough that the new rhythm is enough to send him over. He cursed his way through it, up until he pulled Yamamoto down for another harsh kiss, holding Yamamoto’s mouth to his while he pulled at his own cock, riding out the full effects of his orgasm.
Yamamoto bit at his lip and their teeth clacked together, once, then again, then not at all. He pulled away to kneel a little higher as he came too, increasing the strength of his thrusts, though the pacing trailed off jaggedly. Gokudera breathed slowly through his mouth, still feeling the muscles of his stomach and legs twitch and shake during those last few slams against his prostate.
Despite any future or past claims Yamamoto made otherwise, Gokudera didn’t drift off after that. It was just his tendency to stop paying attention to pretty much anything for the next few minutes. His eyes half closed and his breathing returned to normal, and when he pulled his senses together again it was to find Yamamoto gathering him up into his long arms, dragging him close and sitting up again, braced against the tile wall. Gokudera allowed it, despite it being dangerously close to that ‘cuddling’ Yamamoto was always trying to con out of him. The shower, now that he noticed it again, was still disarmingly warm, and Gokudera himself was physically worn out. He didn’t feel like dragging himself to his feet, drying off and heading to his room just yet.
Which didn’t mean he was okay with Yamamoto nuzzling the side of his face, or nipping softly at his ear. “Cut that out.” Gokudera shifted enough to put his head out of immediate range.
Yamamoto didn’t seem to mind, instead he began to pick at the drenched dress shirt Gokudera had never gotten out of. “These’ll take a while to dry, you can stay here tonight.”
Gokudera growled, mostly because he’d just remembered his cigarettes had been in his jacket and were probably all ruined by now. “It’s not even noon, idiot.”
“You’ll sleep anyway,” Yamamoto said, looking plenty awake himself. There was some always damn annoying about the fact that, if anything, Yamamoto had more energy after sex. Especially since Gokudera mostly just wanted to go curl up in his own bed, alone, and didn’t usually have the energy to fight Yamamoto off.
“Shut up,” Gokudera growled, but still without much energy. He sat up slowly, grabbing a water faucet to help haul himself out of Yamamoto’s lap. “Finish your shower.”
Yamamoto stood up as well, stretching briefly, and Gokudera heard his spine pop a few times. “Use my bed,” he invited again, and Gokudera ignored him, sliding back the shower door and grabbing a towel to dry himself off with.
“I’ll sleep wherever the hell I want.”
Yamamoto might have wanted to say something more than that, but Gokudera turned back just enough to glare at him and the other just laughed instead. Gokudera glared harder and turned away wrapping the towel around his waist as the walked out of the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him so Yamamoto couldn't see what he chose to do, then stripped off his sodden dress shirt, draped it over a chair, and crawled into Yamamoto’s bed.