(no subject)
Fandom: Persona 4
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Kanji Tatsumi, Naoto Shirogane
Warnings: Done for P4 Kink Meme. Genderbent Naoto.
The problem was that no matter how you looked at it, Naoto was a detective, and not just a detective, but a brilliant one despite his age, and there were certain criteria for being so, like being observant.
“Uh…come again?” asked Kanji, wondering how quick he could bolt out the door and make an exit. Out of his own house. (His mother had been so elated too, about the sheer fact that he had brought a friend home, or rather, that he had friends.)
He was too preoccupied to notice that Naoto looked a little nervous himself, sitting rigid and straight-backed on the floor, sitting on his ankles, prim and proper. He cleared his throat, smoothing down the top of his cap on his lap. “I noticed that, as of late, you had been taking particular effort to…ah…ensure my comfort and ease of movement wherever we go, engaging in such acts as opening doors and pulling out chairs.”
“D-d-did you? You gotta be imagining things. I ain’t never done that!” argued Kanji, too anxious to be telling the truth. The stuttering probably didn’t help. Alright, so maybe he had been doing things like sparing the seat when they were on trains, or working on that hand-puppet that looked suspiciously like his quiet classmate, but it was all just politeness! He said so, loudly, and almost instantly regretted it when he noticed Naoto lower his eyes, shoulders slumping just ever so slightly.
“Oh. I see. It was politeness.” Naoto had always been somewhat small, but he suddenly seemed so dejected and at a loss that Kanji instinctively reached out to pet him, like he would a kicked puppy. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his hand cupped around Naoto’s cheek, and was subject to a very inquisitive stare. He tore his hand away.
“Uh. Well, maybe not just politeness,” he mumbled.
“Kanji-kun, do you perhaps, if I may ask, favor my company?” asked Naoto, always so formal. He caught himself, blushing at his own audacity. “Ah…umm, what I mean to say, w-what do you mean by that?”
Kanji Tatsumi was golden-hearted, but not necessarily courageous. He was often misunderstood, rough around the edges, and had the tendency of thinking before he acted. These characteristics had landed him in plenty of sticky situations before, but for once in his life, he considered his words before he said them. This was important. This was Naoto he was talking about. He hadn’t been spending all that time - even when all that TV business was over and done with, fostering this friendship for just politeness.
“ImightlikeyoujustalittleIthink,” he said. Okay. Maybe ‘eloquence’ was pushing it.
Thankfully, Naoto Shirogane was an observant boy, and though he was not always good at understanding people, he had perhaps begun to understand one particular Kanji Tatsumi better lately, and, as far as people went, was rather well-versed in Kanji-ese. He looked surprised, because hypothesizing and proving the hypothesis were two different matters altogether, and flushed a light pink before smiling in relief.
“Oh. Oh, good,” he said, leaning forward with his hands on Kanji’s knees for balance.
Kanji bolted backwards in surprise. It wasn’t a particularly smart move when Naoto was leaning in to kiss him, but not quite unfortunate either. He landed on his back, and Naoto landed with a muffled, “Oomph,” flush on top of him, his head cushioned by Kanji’s chest. “Wh-what…are you okay?!” yelped Kanji, almost panicking when he saw Naoto’s shoulders shake (OhgodishecryingdidIhurthim), except no, Naoto was laughing, drawing one hand up to his mouth to cover it.
“Kanji-kun,” said Naoto, recovering, and pushing himself up on his elbows. “I like you.” And then he kissed the shell-shocked boy under him.
It wasn’t a particularly artful kiss - not the type that took your breath away or made you think of prancing in daisy fields under a clear blue day (what kind of pansy ass shit was that anyway), but it was a first kiss, and when Naoto sneaked in a hint of tongue against the line of his mouth, Kanji may or may not have made an undignified squeak (except no, he was a Manly Manly Man, and Manly Manly Men did not make such unmanly noises.)
“Oh,” said Naoto, looking down. (Why the fuck does he have to be so freakin’ observant?!) “A-are you okay?”
“Uh,” said Kanji, clearly Not Okay, and maybe because he had been hanging out with Naoto lately, some of those observation skills had rubbed off on him, because, when he shifted the leg between Naoto’s, he realized that Naoto was also Not Very Okay. “N-Naoto, you…”
Naoto looked at him, and Kanji wondered if the boy realized what kind of look that was. It was a miracle that he didn’t start nosebleeding right there. Maybe Kanji had been saving up all his courage all his life for this one moment, where he didn’t choose the easy way out, and instead ducked his head to kiss Naoto again, reaching down between them to cup the front of the other’s pants.
Naoto inhaled sharply in the middle of the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. On the contrary, he pressed into the touch, and used his own hand to return the favor (always so polite.) From then on, it was simply instinct pulling Kanji along, telling him to slip his fingers under the waistband and push Naoto’s clothes down, drawing his fingers against sensitive, secret skin, and every step of the way, Naoto did the same, their breathing growing faster, excited.
Kanji took a moment to just pause, and looked down to where Naoto had his hand wrapped around him (oh god, touching should not feel this good), and to where his own hand was around Naoto. It was strange, holding someone else like that, and it was something he had begun to accept ever since he got dragged into the whole Midnight Channel mess, but never quite realized the reality of until now. He looked back up, found Naoto staring at him, looking nervous (is this okay?) and smiled.
Yeah, this was all right.
Leaning forward, Kanji began to move his hand up and down, happily noting that Naoto responded by pushing into his grip, pulling out and snapping forward again. Naoto had closed his eyes, a look of wholehearted concentration on his face, and Kanji took advantage of the momentary distraction to press his mouth against the bared expanse of Naoto’s throat. He could feel Naoto breathing under his mouth, the quick, short gasps, and sucked against the skin.
As if jump-starting him into motion, Naoto resumed his own ministrations, hand tightening around Kanji’s answering erection and stroking. Unlike Kanji, his movements were precise, measured, and unhurried, and every time he reached the top, he swiped the top with his thumb in a way that drove Kanji absolutely mad. “G-god, Naoto, y-you can’t keep on doing that,” he said, breathing the words against the boy’s throat.
A sound - was Naoto laughing? - and a very deliberate repeat of the same motion, and Kanji felt his hand squeeze against Naoto as he came with a grunt. He vaguely registered Naoto making a sound of his own - a strangled, breathy, “Ah”, as Naoto’s free hand fisted in his hair (almost painful, but not quite). Kanji felt his fist draw away wet as he struggled to catch his breath, and lazily looked down to inspect the mess they made.
“Sorry,” whispered Naoto, before his strength gave out and he fell against Kanji, their chests heaving against each other. Only Naoto would have his first word after mutual handjobs be an apology, Kanji thought, fondly. “For the mess.”
Kanji leaned back against the floor, freeing the hand he had been using to prop himself up, and using it to smooth down the hair on the back of Naoto’s head. “Nah,” he said, grinning at the ceiling. “Nah, s’okay.”
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Kanji Tatsumi, Naoto Shirogane
Warnings: Done for P4 Kink Meme. Genderbent Naoto.
The problem was that no matter how you looked at it, Naoto was a detective, and not just a detective, but a brilliant one despite his age, and there were certain criteria for being so, like being observant.
“Uh…come again?” asked Kanji, wondering how quick he could bolt out the door and make an exit. Out of his own house. (His mother had been so elated too, about the sheer fact that he had brought a friend home, or rather, that he had friends.)
He was too preoccupied to notice that Naoto looked a little nervous himself, sitting rigid and straight-backed on the floor, sitting on his ankles, prim and proper. He cleared his throat, smoothing down the top of his cap on his lap. “I noticed that, as of late, you had been taking particular effort to…ah…ensure my comfort and ease of movement wherever we go, engaging in such acts as opening doors and pulling out chairs.”
“D-d-did you? You gotta be imagining things. I ain’t never done that!” argued Kanji, too anxious to be telling the truth. The stuttering probably didn’t help. Alright, so maybe he had been doing things like sparing the seat when they were on trains, or working on that hand-puppet that looked suspiciously like his quiet classmate, but it was all just politeness! He said so, loudly, and almost instantly regretted it when he noticed Naoto lower his eyes, shoulders slumping just ever so slightly.
“Oh. I see. It was politeness.” Naoto had always been somewhat small, but he suddenly seemed so dejected and at a loss that Kanji instinctively reached out to pet him, like he would a kicked puppy. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his hand cupped around Naoto’s cheek, and was subject to a very inquisitive stare. He tore his hand away.
“Uh. Well, maybe not just politeness,” he mumbled.
“Kanji-kun, do you perhaps, if I may ask, favor my company?” asked Naoto, always so formal. He caught himself, blushing at his own audacity. “Ah…umm, what I mean to say, w-what do you mean by that?”
Kanji Tatsumi was golden-hearted, but not necessarily courageous. He was often misunderstood, rough around the edges, and had the tendency of thinking before he acted. These characteristics had landed him in plenty of sticky situations before, but for once in his life, he considered his words before he said them. This was important. This was Naoto he was talking about. He hadn’t been spending all that time - even when all that TV business was over and done with, fostering this friendship for just politeness.
“ImightlikeyoujustalittleIthink,” he said. Okay. Maybe ‘eloquence’ was pushing it.
Thankfully, Naoto Shirogane was an observant boy, and though he was not always good at understanding people, he had perhaps begun to understand one particular Kanji Tatsumi better lately, and, as far as people went, was rather well-versed in Kanji-ese. He looked surprised, because hypothesizing and proving the hypothesis were two different matters altogether, and flushed a light pink before smiling in relief.
“Oh. Oh, good,” he said, leaning forward with his hands on Kanji’s knees for balance.
Kanji bolted backwards in surprise. It wasn’t a particularly smart move when Naoto was leaning in to kiss him, but not quite unfortunate either. He landed on his back, and Naoto landed with a muffled, “Oomph,” flush on top of him, his head cushioned by Kanji’s chest. “Wh-what…are you okay?!” yelped Kanji, almost panicking when he saw Naoto’s shoulders shake (OhgodishecryingdidIhurthim), except no, Naoto was laughing, drawing one hand up to his mouth to cover it.
“Kanji-kun,” said Naoto, recovering, and pushing himself up on his elbows. “I like you.” And then he kissed the shell-shocked boy under him.
It wasn’t a particularly artful kiss - not the type that took your breath away or made you think of prancing in daisy fields under a clear blue day (what kind of pansy ass shit was that anyway), but it was a first kiss, and when Naoto sneaked in a hint of tongue against the line of his mouth, Kanji may or may not have made an undignified squeak (except no, he was a Manly Manly Man, and Manly Manly Men did not make such unmanly noises.)
“Oh,” said Naoto, looking down. (Why the fuck does he have to be so freakin’ observant?!) “A-are you okay?”
“Uh,” said Kanji, clearly Not Okay, and maybe because he had been hanging out with Naoto lately, some of those observation skills had rubbed off on him, because, when he shifted the leg between Naoto’s, he realized that Naoto was also Not Very Okay. “N-Naoto, you…”
Naoto looked at him, and Kanji wondered if the boy realized what kind of look that was. It was a miracle that he didn’t start nosebleeding right there. Maybe Kanji had been saving up all his courage all his life for this one moment, where he didn’t choose the easy way out, and instead ducked his head to kiss Naoto again, reaching down between them to cup the front of the other’s pants.
Naoto inhaled sharply in the middle of the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. On the contrary, he pressed into the touch, and used his own hand to return the favor (always so polite.) From then on, it was simply instinct pulling Kanji along, telling him to slip his fingers under the waistband and push Naoto’s clothes down, drawing his fingers against sensitive, secret skin, and every step of the way, Naoto did the same, their breathing growing faster, excited.
Kanji took a moment to just pause, and looked down to where Naoto had his hand wrapped around him (oh god, touching should not feel this good), and to where his own hand was around Naoto. It was strange, holding someone else like that, and it was something he had begun to accept ever since he got dragged into the whole Midnight Channel mess, but never quite realized the reality of until now. He looked back up, found Naoto staring at him, looking nervous (is this okay?) and smiled.
Yeah, this was all right.
Leaning forward, Kanji began to move his hand up and down, happily noting that Naoto responded by pushing into his grip, pulling out and snapping forward again. Naoto had closed his eyes, a look of wholehearted concentration on his face, and Kanji took advantage of the momentary distraction to press his mouth against the bared expanse of Naoto’s throat. He could feel Naoto breathing under his mouth, the quick, short gasps, and sucked against the skin.
As if jump-starting him into motion, Naoto resumed his own ministrations, hand tightening around Kanji’s answering erection and stroking. Unlike Kanji, his movements were precise, measured, and unhurried, and every time he reached the top, he swiped the top with his thumb in a way that drove Kanji absolutely mad. “G-god, Naoto, y-you can’t keep on doing that,” he said, breathing the words against the boy’s throat.
A sound - was Naoto laughing? - and a very deliberate repeat of the same motion, and Kanji felt his hand squeeze against Naoto as he came with a grunt. He vaguely registered Naoto making a sound of his own - a strangled, breathy, “Ah”, as Naoto’s free hand fisted in his hair (almost painful, but not quite). Kanji felt his fist draw away wet as he struggled to catch his breath, and lazily looked down to inspect the mess they made.
“Sorry,” whispered Naoto, before his strength gave out and he fell against Kanji, their chests heaving against each other. Only Naoto would have his first word after mutual handjobs be an apology, Kanji thought, fondly. “For the mess.”
Kanji leaned back against the floor, freeing the hand he had been using to prop himself up, and using it to smooth down the hair on the back of Naoto’s head. “Nah,” he said, grinning at the ceiling. “Nah, s’okay.”