Oyussh! - Salutations and Ficticious Naughtiness
Hello community~
I've been an avid fan of REBORN! for a while now, and I've really enjoyed this fanbase.
(Katekyo/manga in general, is not my location's strong point D: )
Anyway, as it seems that everyone's coming out of their lurking status, I wrote a little something (at school), hope it's decent, I just needed to get the image out of my mind. ;>>
---
Title: For the Love of the Game
Author: 113e
Pairing: Yamamoto/Gokudera D:
Raiting: T+ (Kind of naughty.)
Word Count: 881
Notes: This is just a short piece that has no particualr point ><. YamGoku is not my favorite pairing but this just kept plaguing me. No spoilers.
For the Love of the Game
Baseball practice usually lasted until about or just after dusk, and then a bit longer if Yamamoto was unsatisfied with his performance on the field that day. The boy was always unsatisfied. It made Gokudera wonder why exactly he showed up to every other school practice and so willingly sat in the chill of the dugout, receiving dirty looks from the rest of the team for smoking one poisonous cigarette after another. He’d send a stream of white fume their way before mirroring their irritation at an angle and offering a rude gesture or two. They’d run off and complain at the appropriate time and Yamamoto would give an apologetic laugh and grin from center field shrugging it off.
This day was no different, despite the fact that Takeshi Yamamoto had the biggest grin on his face as he waved goodbye to his teammates and walked over to Gokudera, huddled in a scarf, jacket and a freshly lit cigarette to confuse his mind into warmth. The sun had barely set the sky a flame in a warm orange when everyone began to leave. Gokudera stood from the hard wooden seat in the dugout, preparing to leave. “What’s going on? Had enough baseball for today?” he said blandly from behind a puff of smoke. Yamamoto’s grin fell swiftly into a smirk and a low breathy chuckle rolled from his throat. Before Gokudera could replace his cigarette there were hands removing his scarf and a dirty baseball nut nipping at his neck and shoulder. He shifted his weight back and ended with his shoulder-blades against the wall, his torso pushing the aggressive teen away. Yamamoto’s hands hit the red, dust ridden wall with a thwack on either side Gokudera’s head.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Gokudera murmured using his teeth and rounded bottom lip to hold his death stick in place while he spoke. He didn’t want a scene, and Yamamoto was acting peculiar. “There’re people around. Your teammates aren’t even out of the field yet, idiot.”
“I don’t care.” was the soft response. Yamamoto gave Gokudera a dark look, something that made the latter mentioned have to bring two fingers to his cigarette to hold it in place.
“Excuse me?” The clever Mafioso took a deep inhale that held in his chest as a pair of rough hands ran up his bare torso.
“I said, I don’t care…” Yamamoto replied dipping down to his friend’s navel and giving the small body part a gentle kiss. Gokudera spilled smoke from his nose and mouth with a lazy groan. “I want them to watch.” completed the short-haired teen, licking halfway up the center line of Gokudera’s abdomen before a hand caught his shoulder. The signal was ‘stop’ but it was understood as ‘lower’. Knees in the loose filth of the earth, Yamamoto allowed his hands to fall around and take a quick grip on Gokudera’s rear, growling as he began to mouth the crotch before him. The smoking bomb began to falter, moving against the actions. He kept his eyes open, though they were low and at times covered by a mask of translucent white. He cursed. Just once. Quietly so that it felt like a harsh gasp. Thumbs slid over his hips and pushed past fabrics and dull metal studs skillfully locating with cold tips the peak of his sensitive hipbones. Gokudera’s knees gave out slightly when teeth politely introduced themselves to a growing sensation and he let his head roll to the side, cigarette threatening to fall between quickening breaths. A breeze came into the little dugout, and the trail of saliva Yamamoto’s wondering tongue had made went cold, and the thought of that same tongue trailing down his cock hit him in the lower spine and chest making him tingle with excitement. It was at that moment that Yamamoto slid a hand to his arousal and squeezed a bit too hard, rubbing against him with the bones of his thumb and biting his inner thigh roughly. Gokudera’s voice came sharp and seemed to catch a wind and turn a few heads from far down the field near the gates. He reacted automatically pushing the insistent, uniformed male away and onto the dirt floor.
Yamamoto caught himself on his hands and wrist and smirked, impressed that he could pull such a reaction from the boy who seemed determined to keep quiet. That look earned him a curious boot to the groin. Fast and firm, but not enough to bruise. He gasped then did one better and moaned. Loud.
Gokudera retracted his foot quickly, threw his cigarette aside with a bitter look on his face and removed his jacket, letting it fall. “You really are a baseball nut, you know that?” he said managing not to stammer.
Yamamoto gave three hearty laughs before Gokudera straddled his body and pushed him into the ground. His hands groped the pale haired boy’s neck when their chilled lips warmed with several coarse kisses. Teeth and lips and tongues and hot breaths gave skin light pink tints. Yamamoto broke their string of osculation with a strained whine as Gokudera’s hand found the knot of arousal he had been harboring and embraced it.
“Ahh-ha…” he breathed, turning his wince into a grin, “How Cute...”
“Fuck you.”
Hope that wasn't too terrible. I had a bit of a dirtier mind with this story but I didn't know if it was appropriate to post so I edited it. D:
Anyone else notice how devious Yamamoto looks at times? Gives me chills *_*
I've been an avid fan of REBORN! for a while now, and I've really enjoyed this fanbase.
(Katekyo/manga in general, is not my location's strong point D: )
Anyway, as it seems that everyone's coming out of their lurking status, I wrote a little something (at school), hope it's decent, I just needed to get the image out of my mind. ;>>
---
Title: For the Love of the Game
Author: 113e
Pairing: Yamamoto/Gokudera D:
Raiting: T+ (Kind of naughty.)
Word Count: 881
Notes: This is just a short piece that has no particualr point ><. YamGoku is not my favorite pairing but this just kept plaguing me. No spoilers.
For the Love of the Game
Baseball practice usually lasted until about or just after dusk, and then a bit longer if Yamamoto was unsatisfied with his performance on the field that day. The boy was always unsatisfied. It made Gokudera wonder why exactly he showed up to every other school practice and so willingly sat in the chill of the dugout, receiving dirty looks from the rest of the team for smoking one poisonous cigarette after another. He’d send a stream of white fume their way before mirroring their irritation at an angle and offering a rude gesture or two. They’d run off and complain at the appropriate time and Yamamoto would give an apologetic laugh and grin from center field shrugging it off.
This day was no different, despite the fact that Takeshi Yamamoto had the biggest grin on his face as he waved goodbye to his teammates and walked over to Gokudera, huddled in a scarf, jacket and a freshly lit cigarette to confuse his mind into warmth. The sun had barely set the sky a flame in a warm orange when everyone began to leave. Gokudera stood from the hard wooden seat in the dugout, preparing to leave. “What’s going on? Had enough baseball for today?” he said blandly from behind a puff of smoke. Yamamoto’s grin fell swiftly into a smirk and a low breathy chuckle rolled from his throat. Before Gokudera could replace his cigarette there were hands removing his scarf and a dirty baseball nut nipping at his neck and shoulder. He shifted his weight back and ended with his shoulder-blades against the wall, his torso pushing the aggressive teen away. Yamamoto’s hands hit the red, dust ridden wall with a thwack on either side Gokudera’s head.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Gokudera murmured using his teeth and rounded bottom lip to hold his death stick in place while he spoke. He didn’t want a scene, and Yamamoto was acting peculiar. “There’re people around. Your teammates aren’t even out of the field yet, idiot.”
“I don’t care.” was the soft response. Yamamoto gave Gokudera a dark look, something that made the latter mentioned have to bring two fingers to his cigarette to hold it in place.
“Excuse me?” The clever Mafioso took a deep inhale that held in his chest as a pair of rough hands ran up his bare torso.
“I said, I don’t care…” Yamamoto replied dipping down to his friend’s navel and giving the small body part a gentle kiss. Gokudera spilled smoke from his nose and mouth with a lazy groan. “I want them to watch.” completed the short-haired teen, licking halfway up the center line of Gokudera’s abdomen before a hand caught his shoulder. The signal was ‘stop’ but it was understood as ‘lower’. Knees in the loose filth of the earth, Yamamoto allowed his hands to fall around and take a quick grip on Gokudera’s rear, growling as he began to mouth the crotch before him. The smoking bomb began to falter, moving against the actions. He kept his eyes open, though they were low and at times covered by a mask of translucent white. He cursed. Just once. Quietly so that it felt like a harsh gasp. Thumbs slid over his hips and pushed past fabrics and dull metal studs skillfully locating with cold tips the peak of his sensitive hipbones. Gokudera’s knees gave out slightly when teeth politely introduced themselves to a growing sensation and he let his head roll to the side, cigarette threatening to fall between quickening breaths. A breeze came into the little dugout, and the trail of saliva Yamamoto’s wondering tongue had made went cold, and the thought of that same tongue trailing down his cock hit him in the lower spine and chest making him tingle with excitement. It was at that moment that Yamamoto slid a hand to his arousal and squeezed a bit too hard, rubbing against him with the bones of his thumb and biting his inner thigh roughly. Gokudera’s voice came sharp and seemed to catch a wind and turn a few heads from far down the field near the gates. He reacted automatically pushing the insistent, uniformed male away and onto the dirt floor.
Yamamoto caught himself on his hands and wrist and smirked, impressed that he could pull such a reaction from the boy who seemed determined to keep quiet. That look earned him a curious boot to the groin. Fast and firm, but not enough to bruise. He gasped then did one better and moaned. Loud.
Gokudera retracted his foot quickly, threw his cigarette aside with a bitter look on his face and removed his jacket, letting it fall. “You really are a baseball nut, you know that?” he said managing not to stammer.
Yamamoto gave three hearty laughs before Gokudera straddled his body and pushed him into the ground. His hands groped the pale haired boy’s neck when their chilled lips warmed with several coarse kisses. Teeth and lips and tongues and hot breaths gave skin light pink tints. Yamamoto broke their string of osculation with a strained whine as Gokudera’s hand found the knot of arousal he had been harboring and embraced it.
“Ahh-ha…” he breathed, turning his wince into a grin, “How Cute...”
“Fuck you.”
Hope that wasn't too terrible. I had a bit of a dirtier mind with this story but I didn't know if it was appropriate to post so I edited it. D:
Anyone else notice how devious Yamamoto looks at times? Gives me chills *_*