70: In the art room, painting
Title: Mastering the Masterpiece [explicit]
Author: sunshine_melodi
Promto: 70 - In the art room, painting
Wordcount: 1356
Author's Note: This fic may not make any sense. There is more than likely loopholes and such but I had to get it out. *laughs* I don't think it went the way I wanted it, but meh. Here it is. XD It's AU, mind you. ;D
Gokudera was used to people asking him for private sessions. For what he did to pay for his university expenses, it was expected. He usually got charged more money for it too so he never complained when his customers made more peculiar requests of him. Upon agreeing to these special performances he got a tip on top of the extra fee.
It wasn’t a bad way of living for the moment especially when all he had to do was strip and strike a pose then stand there for all of an hour or two, get dressed, admire the finished piece, smile and leave. Oh right, and take his payment.
So when his own art teacher asked him to come in on a Saturday for a modeling job, Gokudera Hayato wasn’t about to object. He had seen some of the artwork his sensei produced and it was brilliant. Even if it revolved around baseball for the most part its uniqueness was unparalleled and fresh.
The silver haired man was now sitting on a red ottoman in the middle of the classroom. His shirt was removed - Yamamoto’s request - and he was leaning back, holding himself up with his arms. There was a spot on the floor that he was told to look at until Yamamoto was finished. For an hour and a half he stared at that black dot. They really should use something more interesting to look at if it’s going to be stared at for such a long period of time.
Gokudera could hear the steady strokes of the paint brush as the older man worked. It was a sound he had become accustomed to and found to be rather relaxing. The room was a little too warm too. Gokudera’s eyelids were starting to become too heavy to hold up. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat or the sounds of the moving brush. Hell, it could be both but if Yamamoto-sensei didn’t hurry up he was going to fall asleep.
He felt the ottoman shift behind him. Were this any other situation Gokudera would have turned to inquire what the other man wanted. But practice has taught him not to move until asked to do so. He was no longer an amateur at this.
Yamamoto answered his unasked question, “I’m just going to add a few more details.”
Gokudera nodded. Details to what though?
His eyes widened in understanding when he felt the cool wet tip of a paintbrush moving languidly across his back. He couldn’t tell what Yamamoto was painting but Gokudera could honestly say that it felt nice. Every now and then the utensil was taken away most likely to dip into more paint. He shivered slightly when the cold liquid was pressed against his lower back and a second one - though it was warm - moved smoothly along his shoulder. It became increasingly clear that whatever was on his shoulder was definitely not a paintbrush when a soft kiss was placed on his neck. He made to move but a large reassuring hand was rested on his hip. He heard the other man chuckle behind him.
“What are you doing?” Gokudera whispered.
“Indulging.” Was Yamamoto’s response, “You have a very attractive body.”
The paint brush was taken away and replaced with another hand, cold and smothered with paint. A warm naked torso was pressed against his back and probably smearing the design. Not that it really mattered anymore. Yamamoto’s arms wrapped around the smaller man’s waist, leaning down to suckle on Gokudera’s pulse.
“You’re a very attractive young man.”
“You’re being a very creepy old man.” Was Gokudera’s response as he tried to pull away from Yamamoto’s embrace to leave.
Yamamoto only tightened his hold and nipped at the younger man’s shoulder, “You watch me. I’ve seen it.”
Gokudera tensed at the assumption and sighed, “Bastard. You’re too overconfident.”
“So are you, Gokudera-kun.”
The silver haired man scoffed, “Call me that again and I’ll see to it that you disappear and never found.”
“Then let me call you Hayato.”
“Gokudera.”
“Deal.”
Gokudera couldn’t believe he was having this sort of argument with his professor. Seriously, what the fuck? The man was sexually harassing him and all he did was sit and argue with the idiot. He felt Yamamoto snicker before he heard it.
“What?” Gokudera snapped.
“You’re aroused.” This statement was made very clear when Yamamoto reached down to cup the growing bulge in Gokudera’s pants.
Gokudera couldn’t compress the groan that forced its way out of his mouth. The ‘painting session’ from earlier was the cause of his current problem in his jeans. And with his sensei fondling him now, it was only making matters worse. He clenched his eyes shut to will the blasted dilemma away. No such luck.
He cried out indignantly when he was pulled back to lie down - albeit awkwardly - on the large ottoman. Both of Yamamoto’s arms were still securely wrapped around him and the hand on his crotch moved up and slipped into his pants. Questing fingers wrapped around his hardened cock, moving up and down in painstakingly slow strokes.
Gokudera gripped the edge of the ottoman, his breathing now reduced to pants, quiet moaning, and the occasional curse directed at Yamamoto. He growled lowly as the tip of his leaking member was thumbed; rubbing back and forth over the slit.
Yamamoto continued to quite literally devour Gokudera’s neck. He was steadily increasing the pace of his hand reveling in the fact that Gokudera was now thrusting into his hand - wanton and needy; desperate for release. He had not intended this to let this get so out of control but after watching and admiring the younger man for so long he finally lost all inhibition. He wanted to master the masterpiece that was Gokudera Hayato. He wanted to touch him, mold him, unravel him and then start the process all over again.
Now that he was experiencing it, Yamamoto feared it would become an addiction. Something he wouldn’t be able to control.
Gokudera tossed his head back. He was almost at his limit and Yamamoto’s hand was only going faster and faster. His head was tipped up and allowed his mouth to be explored quite thoroughly by the older man. Their tongues tangled and moved against the other to taste and feel.
The kiss was broken just as quickly as it started and Gokudera cried out as he came hard into Yamamoto’s hand; into his pants. Collapsing onto Yamamoto, Gokudera tried to catch his breath and will his limbs to move. The sticky hand was removed and Gokudera watched as Yamamoto brought it to his mouth to lick off the white fluid. Well if that wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever seen.
It was then that realization kicked in. Gokudera glared up at his ‘sexual assaulter’ before shoving his baseball idiot ass off the ottoman. Yamamoto wasn’t expecting it and fell unceremoniously to the floor with a grunt. He looked up to see Gokudera storming out of the art room, dressing himself as he went.
“Well, that went rather well,” he said aloud to no one in particular.
~*~
Three days later, it was raining. Yamamoto liked the rain. He usually painted his better pieces when it rained. It was calm and always seemed to wash away his worries, clearing his mind. Ah, yes. He enjoyed rainy days the most.
He hadn’t seen Gokudera since that day. The silver haired man even skipped Yamamoto’s classes. He expected as much though. It couldn’t be helped especially considering the circumstances.
“That’s all for today, guys. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said as he waved off his class.
He didn’t watch the crowd leave the room, preferring to shuffle his papers and put his things away. Looking up to make sure all the students left he grinned. There, standing in the doorway was Gokudera. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking everywhere but at Yamamoto. It didn’t matter though.
Gokudera made his choice.
And Yamamoto couldn’t be happier.
Outside, the rain began to pour and the wind picked up.
It would storm tonight.
Author: sunshine_melodi
Promto: 70 - In the art room, painting
Wordcount: 1356
Author's Note: This fic may not make any sense. There is more than likely loopholes and such but I had to get it out. *laughs* I don't think it went the way I wanted it, but meh. Here it is. XD It's AU, mind you. ;D
Gokudera was used to people asking him for private sessions. For what he did to pay for his university expenses, it was expected. He usually got charged more money for it too so he never complained when his customers made more peculiar requests of him. Upon agreeing to these special performances he got a tip on top of the extra fee.
It wasn’t a bad way of living for the moment especially when all he had to do was strip and strike a pose then stand there for all of an hour or two, get dressed, admire the finished piece, smile and leave. Oh right, and take his payment.
So when his own art teacher asked him to come in on a Saturday for a modeling job, Gokudera Hayato wasn’t about to object. He had seen some of the artwork his sensei produced and it was brilliant. Even if it revolved around baseball for the most part its uniqueness was unparalleled and fresh.
The silver haired man was now sitting on a red ottoman in the middle of the classroom. His shirt was removed - Yamamoto’s request - and he was leaning back, holding himself up with his arms. There was a spot on the floor that he was told to look at until Yamamoto was finished. For an hour and a half he stared at that black dot. They really should use something more interesting to look at if it’s going to be stared at for such a long period of time.
Gokudera could hear the steady strokes of the paint brush as the older man worked. It was a sound he had become accustomed to and found to be rather relaxing. The room was a little too warm too. Gokudera’s eyelids were starting to become too heavy to hold up. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat or the sounds of the moving brush. Hell, it could be both but if Yamamoto-sensei didn’t hurry up he was going to fall asleep.
He felt the ottoman shift behind him. Were this any other situation Gokudera would have turned to inquire what the other man wanted. But practice has taught him not to move until asked to do so. He was no longer an amateur at this.
Yamamoto answered his unasked question, “I’m just going to add a few more details.”
Gokudera nodded. Details to what though?
His eyes widened in understanding when he felt the cool wet tip of a paintbrush moving languidly across his back. He couldn’t tell what Yamamoto was painting but Gokudera could honestly say that it felt nice. Every now and then the utensil was taken away most likely to dip into more paint. He shivered slightly when the cold liquid was pressed against his lower back and a second one - though it was warm - moved smoothly along his shoulder. It became increasingly clear that whatever was on his shoulder was definitely not a paintbrush when a soft kiss was placed on his neck. He made to move but a large reassuring hand was rested on his hip. He heard the other man chuckle behind him.
“What are you doing?” Gokudera whispered.
“Indulging.” Was Yamamoto’s response, “You have a very attractive body.”
The paint brush was taken away and replaced with another hand, cold and smothered with paint. A warm naked torso was pressed against his back and probably smearing the design. Not that it really mattered anymore. Yamamoto’s arms wrapped around the smaller man’s waist, leaning down to suckle on Gokudera’s pulse.
“You’re a very attractive young man.”
“You’re being a very creepy old man.” Was Gokudera’s response as he tried to pull away from Yamamoto’s embrace to leave.
Yamamoto only tightened his hold and nipped at the younger man’s shoulder, “You watch me. I’ve seen it.”
Gokudera tensed at the assumption and sighed, “Bastard. You’re too overconfident.”
“So are you, Gokudera-kun.”
The silver haired man scoffed, “Call me that again and I’ll see to it that you disappear and never found.”
“Then let me call you Hayato.”
“Gokudera.”
“Deal.”
Gokudera couldn’t believe he was having this sort of argument with his professor. Seriously, what the fuck? The man was sexually harassing him and all he did was sit and argue with the idiot. He felt Yamamoto snicker before he heard it.
“What?” Gokudera snapped.
“You’re aroused.” This statement was made very clear when Yamamoto reached down to cup the growing bulge in Gokudera’s pants.
Gokudera couldn’t compress the groan that forced its way out of his mouth. The ‘painting session’ from earlier was the cause of his current problem in his jeans. And with his sensei fondling him now, it was only making matters worse. He clenched his eyes shut to will the blasted dilemma away. No such luck.
He cried out indignantly when he was pulled back to lie down - albeit awkwardly - on the large ottoman. Both of Yamamoto’s arms were still securely wrapped around him and the hand on his crotch moved up and slipped into his pants. Questing fingers wrapped around his hardened cock, moving up and down in painstakingly slow strokes.
Gokudera gripped the edge of the ottoman, his breathing now reduced to pants, quiet moaning, and the occasional curse directed at Yamamoto. He growled lowly as the tip of his leaking member was thumbed; rubbing back and forth over the slit.
Yamamoto continued to quite literally devour Gokudera’s neck. He was steadily increasing the pace of his hand reveling in the fact that Gokudera was now thrusting into his hand - wanton and needy; desperate for release. He had not intended this to let this get so out of control but after watching and admiring the younger man for so long he finally lost all inhibition. He wanted to master the masterpiece that was Gokudera Hayato. He wanted to touch him, mold him, unravel him and then start the process all over again.
Now that he was experiencing it, Yamamoto feared it would become an addiction. Something he wouldn’t be able to control.
Gokudera tossed his head back. He was almost at his limit and Yamamoto’s hand was only going faster and faster. His head was tipped up and allowed his mouth to be explored quite thoroughly by the older man. Their tongues tangled and moved against the other to taste and feel.
The kiss was broken just as quickly as it started and Gokudera cried out as he came hard into Yamamoto’s hand; into his pants. Collapsing onto Yamamoto, Gokudera tried to catch his breath and will his limbs to move. The sticky hand was removed and Gokudera watched as Yamamoto brought it to his mouth to lick off the white fluid. Well if that wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever seen.
It was then that realization kicked in. Gokudera glared up at his ‘sexual assaulter’ before shoving his baseball idiot ass off the ottoman. Yamamoto wasn’t expecting it and fell unceremoniously to the floor with a grunt. He looked up to see Gokudera storming out of the art room, dressing himself as he went.
“Well, that went rather well,” he said aloud to no one in particular.
~*~
Three days later, it was raining. Yamamoto liked the rain. He usually painted his better pieces when it rained. It was calm and always seemed to wash away his worries, clearing his mind. Ah, yes. He enjoyed rainy days the most.
He hadn’t seen Gokudera since that day. The silver haired man even skipped Yamamoto’s classes. He expected as much though. It couldn’t be helped especially considering the circumstances.
“That’s all for today, guys. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he said as he waved off his class.
He didn’t watch the crowd leave the room, preferring to shuffle his papers and put his things away. Looking up to make sure all the students left he grinned. There, standing in the doorway was Gokudera. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking everywhere but at Yamamoto. It didn’t matter though.
Gokudera made his choice.
And Yamamoto couldn’t be happier.
Outside, the rain began to pour and the wind picked up.
It would storm tonight.