8059 Part III!
The next thing Gokudera knew he was stumbling back into his desk, a hand pressed to an injured cheek. He tried to retaliate but Yamamoto grabbed hold of both of his hands and kicked his knees out from under him. Gokudera slammed onto his back, the wind flying from his lungs as Yamamoto lorded over him. Through his wheezing Gokudera aimed an upper-cut at the left side of the swordsman’s jaw but Yamamoto neatly evaded it by shoving the storm guardian back into the floor.
Gokudera cried out as the pushing hand connected solidly with his still-healing burns and he tried to jerk away only to find the legs on either side of hips keeping him fixed in place.
Trapped, Gokudera squeezed his eyes shut against the dizzying rush of pain. He tried desperately to focus on something else and he vaguely registered the sound of someone talking. It was that idiot, his mind reported, he was apologizing.
“-rry Gokudera, I didn’t mean to!” Gokudera wanted to frown, scowl and tell him that that didn’t help anything, but he was still struggling with his breath. “Was it- did I-?”
Gokudera blindly flung a hand in the air and by a stroke of luck managed to find his mark over the idiot’s mouth. His eyes cracked open to glare and Yamamoto gazed apologetically over Gokudera’s pale hand.
“Arh yhm nmkaym?” The idiot asked and Gokudera threw him a disparaging glower.
“I’m fine idiot, now get off me.”
“Mmtt…”
“No.”
The idiot finally pulled back but, instead of getting off like he should have done, he just sat on his haunches, using Gokudera’s lap as an impromptu seat.
“What part of ‘get off’ did you not understand, idiot?” Gokudera exclaimed angrily but the idiot ignored him as usual. A second later the bastard had shoved Gokudera’s shirt halfway up his chest and was examining the first bandage spread across his abdomen.
“What the hell are you doing you moron?” He yelled in shock, struggling violently against the weight holding down his thighs and the big hands gently exploring the bandaged area like the idiot actually knew what he was looking for.
“Get off me!” Gokudera repeated and he pushed at the hands as the fingers brushed against his sensitive skin. His hands were grabbed roughly and Gokudera froze as they were pressed to the floor on either side of his head. Suddenly Yamamoto’s face was back to being barely inches from his own and Gokudera shuddered as warm air brushed against the side of his mouth.
“I was just trying to help,” the swordsman’s breath tickled as it rushed over Gokudera’s skin but the storm guardian didn’t dare struggle against him with their faces so close together.
“Help do what?” he argued instead, “Since when do you know anything about something that’s not related to baseball?” He asked scathingly.
Yamamoto looked offended, “I did a first aid course last year with the baseball team; all the sports clubs had to do it.”
“Not exactly a doctorate, is it?” Gokudera sneered and Yamamoto’s fingers squeezed a little tighter around his own.
“It’s probably more that you know,” the idiot replied defensively.
“I don’t need a stupid course!” Gokudera spat, “I’ve looking after my own injuries for years without idiots like you sticking your nose in!” He waited for the swordsman’s retort but it never came, the idiot just frowned.
“Yamamoto? Yamamoto? Oi idiot, if all you’re gonna do is stare into space then get off me!”
“Dera…”
“Don’t call me that,” the response was already automatic and was just as automatically ignored.
“I’m just trying to help you,” Yamamoto repeated, emphasising each word as he tried to get the point across.
“Well, I don’t want you to.” Gokudera replied in the same tone.
“Why do you always…” Yamamoto cut himself off with a sigh and looked away as though searching for some divine sign.
“Why do I always what?” Gokudera prompted as he tried unsuccessfully to see what Yamamoto found so interesting behind his head.
The rain guardian glanced down and Gokudera caught his eye before the boy let his head drop back down, “You’re not on your own anymore.”
“Che?” Gokudera asked in bewilderment.
“That wasn’t Japanese, Dera,” Yamamoto pointed out quietly.
“Don’t call me that.”
For a minute neither of them said anything and Gokudera fidgeted uncomfortably as the sweat building up between their joined hands made their skin slide together strangely and Yamamoto’s t-shirt brushed against the uncovered parts of Gokudera’s stomach with every breath.
Yamamoto opened his mouth to say something but what ever it was died before it reached his throat and he closed it again. A tongue darted out to wet dry lips and Gokudera stared at the shine it left behind.
He wished he’d been the one to leave it there.
Gokudera’s eyes widen to almost comic proportions and he violently shook his head, rattling off a mantra of ‘no’ in Italian as he struggled to get as far away as possible.
Yamamoto was saying something, or protesting more likely, but the last thing Gokudera wanted to do was listen to him- he didn’t even want to be with a mile radius of the idiot. Hell he’d settle for the other side of the library door as long as it wasn’t near. Yamamoto shifted, pressing their bodies together in an attempt to make him still, but if anything it made Gokudera double his efforts. “Gokudera calm down!”
All it took was those three words and the struggling teenager froze.
“Dera?” An involuntary shudder ran treacherously down the trapped boy’s spine because somehow Yamamoto’s mouth had managed to find an erogenous in the crook of Gokudera’s neck.
“Dera? You calm yet?” The warm breath from Yamamoto’s question washed over the sensitive spot and Gokudera earnestly bit down on his lower lip to keep the moan from coming out, so hard he almost bled, but he failed anyway. The sound hung obscenely in the air and this time they both froze- Gokudera didn’t even breathe.
Yamamoto let out a shaky exhale that made Gokudera shudder and then slowly, deliberately, he pressed closer, his mouth pushing against the treacherous spot. Gokudera waited for him to say something but he never did, just pressed closer and Gokudera couldn’t pretend that the idiot had no idea what he was doing- not now he wasn’t even talking. Gokudera stared at the yellowing ceiling in shock.
“Che cosa fai?” It was meant to come out as a yell, a roar, a shout, yet somewhere between his brain and his mouth it became nothing but a stunned whisper.
“You’re speaking Italian again, Dera,” Yamamoto murmured against his skin and Gokudera didn’t even notice the nickname because he was too busy trying to keep his vocal cords from acting up again.
“Why haven’t you got the fuck off me already?” Gokudera ground out instead, now shifting his stare to a glare.
The ceiling had never had so much attention.
Yamamoto finally seemed to get the message then because he lifted himself back onto his elbows but Gokudera should have known he was asking too much. He stopped, his eyes searching Gokudera’s face for something other than the scowl it found there.
“I just thought that… well…” Yamamoto gazed a little more intently at a spot just above Gokudera’s eyebrow and his cheeks flushed a disturbingly attractive shade of pink, “…you liked it didn’t you?”
“I…I…what?” he stuttered helplessly, unable to even think of a coherent argument, much less say it and to his shame he felt his cheeks heat up to an even darker shade than the one sported by the boy above him.
“Well… when I… did it… you… you…” the pink across Yamamoto’s cheeks deepened to a cherry red and Gokudera took a certain amount of vindictive satisfaction that the idiot was now in the same situation as him.
“That wasn’t… It wasn’t… I was just surprised!” Gokudera protested vehemently, but even to him the argument sounded hollow and he could only hope that for once the baseball-idiot’s stupidity would come in handy.
“Oh…” Yamamoto breathed as he shifted above him, and for a moment Gokudera felt the hope that he was finally going to get off rush over him for a second time but then suddenly he had a face buried in the side of his neck again. Yamamoto was talking but the words were muffled by skin and the fog resettling in Gokudera’s brain.
Wha…?” Gokudera managed to exhale, and then wanted to hit himself for sounding like such an imbecile
The words came again and, after a few seconds of determined concentration, Gokudera managed to decipher them as “are you sure?” Of course then Gokudera made the fatal mistake of opening his mouth to reply just as Yamamoto decided to say something else. Exactly what the swordsman had decided to say however never made it to Gokudera’s brain; what did was the way the words vibrated over his sensitive skin and, with his mouth so conveniently open, the storm guardian was defenceless against the long, low groan they drew from his throat.
Yamamoto shivered and with their bodies pressed so tightly together Gokudera felt every inch of it, “Dera…” The rain guardian’s voice was dark, husky and made Gokudera think of things he hadn’t even dreamt about.
“Don’t call me that.” Gokudera whispered back even as his blood started to rush it little faster. Yamamoto chuckled against his throat and Gokudera felt the sensation shoot down his spine and pool in his groin. He tried to clench his hands only to find Yamamoto’s still holding onto them.
“Dera…” Yamamoto repeated and sealed the fate of the boy beneath him as he shifted uncomfortably. He shifted over the semi-hard flesh between Gokudera’s legs and the ex-smoker gasped, his eyes wide and glassy as his hips bucked back against the motion.
His cheeks burnt red with embarrassment and he was tried in vain to convince himself that the throbbing between his legs was just circumstantial arousal and nothing to do with Yamamoto at all as he hissed out a reply, “why do you never shut up?”
“But,” Yamamoto mumbled into his skin, “you like it, and that- that- I really like that.” Those hips shifted again and, of course, Gokudera moaned again, but then there was something new pressing down on his lower abdomen. Something new but very identifiable. “Dera, I want to…”
Gokudera never found out exactly what it was Yamamoto wanted because at that point the boy finally gave up on speech and instead swiped his tongue along the spot that had been causing Gokudera so much trouble, which gave him a fair idea. God, it felt good.
“Ngh!” The attention didn’t stop at the humiliating sound it wrenched from Gokudera’s throat- instead it got worse and Gokudera was trapped beneath a warm body pressing him into the ground as a mouth slowly annihilated his pride with nips, licks and barely-there sucks.
Yamamoto bit at the skin one last time before pulling away to engage their mouths in long, pressing, closed-mouthed kisses, and Gokudera froze completely beneath him.
“Dera…” he whispered between kisses, “Dera, come on- please?”
Please? Please what?
It was as though all of Gokudera’s mind processes had gone through a temporary failure and were now trying desperately to get back online only to be thwarted with every rough, coaxing push against his lips.
“It’s not just me right? Cuz…cuz you’re hard Dera… and that only happens if… if you like it right?”
Gokudera didn’t think he’s eyes could get any wider until the rain guardian threw out that sentence. He wanted so badly to say ‘no’; to inform him that at their age it can happen anyway- and he opens his mouth to do it- but then he doesn’t.
He doesn’t because then it would stop and Gokudera’s hard and it’s all that stupid idiot’s fault.
Of course, as usual, that idiot doesn’t understand anything Gokudera wants him to do.
“Shit,” Yamamoto whispered and words ghosted down Gokudera’s nose as the taller boy pressed their foreheads together, “shit I’m sorry but I thought- because…” Yamamoto’s eyes squeezed tight and he shook his head as though trying to shake an unwanted thought from his mind.
Gokudera stared, “why are you stopping?” he hissed with displeasure and Yamamoto’s eyes flew open, wide as dinner plates.
“You mean… but you- you didn’t do anything… do anything back I mean.” Oh. So that’s what he’d been asking for.
“Let me go,” Gokudera commanded unhappily, trying to pull his hands back.
“S-sorry,” Yamamoto replied, releasing them obediently and Gokudera glared at him for a second as he considered all the things that wouldn’t have lead to this predicament if the idiot had been clever enough to do that a quarter of an hour ago.
“Fucking moron,” he cursed and caught two fistfuls of shirt as Yamamoto tried to move away, “now what the hell are you doing?” Gokudera hissed.
“But… you said…” Yamamoto floundered and Gokudera rolled his eyes.
“Idiot,” he growled before yanking the boy down into a crushing kiss.
Three seconds later he had the idiot’s tongue in his mouth and he was being forced into the floor again.
Yamamoto’s hands raced across the uninjured skin of Gokudera’s stomach, taking delight in causing gasps to be captured by the swordsman’s hungry mouth and Gokudera found the fingers of one of his hands twisting themselves into the hair at the back of Yamamoto’s head whilst the other made short work of burying under the idiot’s shirt.
The rough pads of his fingers skirted over perfect muscles as he pitted his tongue against Yamamoto’s in a battle of dominance. He found the swordsman gasped and arched when he danced his fingers along the sides but didn’t pull away as though it tickled; he found he moaned when he rubbed the base of his spine and ground his hips a little harder (Gokudera liked that response especially); but his favourite was the way teasing a nipple to hardness made him quiver all over and return the favour.
Gokudera gasped as two thumbs rubbed over the small nubs again and again even after they were hard, just to tease, and Yamamoto swallowed the sound with his greedy, inexperienced kisses.
This shouldn’t be happening.
This shouldn’t be happening but Gokudera was still slipping his tongue in and out of the idiot’s mouth as he rocked his hips into the body above him. The hand curled in Yamamoto’s hair tightened reflexively as the cloth of his underwear rub against his sensitive skin, but he wasn’t the only one in this situation. Yamamoto was moaning now; long, sweet sounds that made Gokudera realised why the swordsman liked listening to his so much; and he could feel how hard he was even through all their clothes as he ground against Gokudera’s own rigid length.
“Dera,” Yamamoto groaned gratuitously before letting his tongue slip along the lower lip of the boy below him. He kissed the side of his mouth then nipped down the left side of his jaw, following the line down to the neck where he buried his face in the smooth skin and sucked. Gokudera’s hips jerked, driving him harder into the crux of Yamamoto’s thighs and the taller boy groaned around his mouthful.
“Oh shit,” Gokudera squeezed his eyes shut as though it could control the pleasure shooting down his spine but then Yamamoto scarped a nail over a previous forgotten nipple and thrust a little harder. “Nngh!” Gokudera arched up as pain and pleasure merged and he pressed a hand against Yamamoto’s ass, desperate for that harsher, faster pace. Yamamoto was happy to oblige.
The swordsman’s mouth never left Gokudera’s neck as he drove their hips together ruthlessly and Gokudera was helpless against the onslaught. His hands curled tighter around their respective captives, encouraging the other wordlessly as he tried to bite back moans with rare success.
The curious, curling pressure that signalled an orgasm started to build in his abdomen and Gokudera gasped, arching himself closer into Yamamoto’s rocking body. Some small part in the back of his mind calmly informed him that he was about to cum in his pants but it was quickly smothered by the rush of pleasure made by Yamamoto groaning loudly into his neck and keening his name in such an undistinguishable way that Gokudera knew exactly when was happening when the boy’s rocking suddenly turned brutal and chaotic.
Hearing the sounds of Yamamoto coming in his ear sent a jolt of electricity straight to his cock while the rough thrusts forced bliss to blossom through his bewildered brain like an enormous firework and all the will-power in the world couldn’t have saved Gokudera from that combination.
He came so hard he forgot his own name, his head flying backwards as he released a cry that seemed loud enough to wake the dead. (3)
It took approximately 3 minutes for Gokudera’s brain to come back online; and it took approximately 3 seconds after that for his blood to burn through Gokudera’s cheeks. Sprawled on top of him, his head still buried in the smooth column of Gokudera’s neck, Yamamoto panted harshly while his hands curled possessively round Gokudera’s waist in a way he should have been pissed off with but Gokudera was just glad the idiot couldn’t see his blush.
Then, just as Gokudera wondered if this was going to become one of those awkward silences that becomes harder and harder to break as it goes on, Yamamoto spoke
“Ne, Dera?” The words were murmured carefully, almost like a verbal tap on the shoulder and, even though he’d used that stupid nickname, Gokudera couldn’t say anything because the idiot was still hiding in his newly discovered weak spot, “come to bed.”
Yamamoto was very violently shoved into the desk.
“Come to bed?” Gokudera hissed incredulously, now standing on the other side of the room with a very painful leg “just because this happened once does not mean it’s happening again!”
“Dera! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant to sleep!” In a rare switch of roles it was Yamamoto that sounded exasperated, “I wasn’t expecting anything else…” of course then Gokudera’s keen eyes noticed the pink tinge rush into the tips of his ears, “unless... you know… I wouldn’t say no…” he started to ramble and the exasperation bounced back across to Gokudera with an almost audible ping.
“Shut up idiot,” he glared. He so desperately wanted to tell said idiot exactly how much he didn’t want to go anywhere with him right now but every time he shifted he could feel the sticky aftermath of their… their…the incident starting to dry against his skin. Unfortunately his only real means of fixing this situation lay back in that very room he didn’t want to go to. He growled unhappily and upgraded his glare to a scowl as he resigned himself to the fate. “I’m only going because I need new clothes,” He informed the idiot harshly, “don’t get any stupid ideas.” But of course Yamamoto was as deaf to that command as he was to any that Gokudera gave and a triumphant grin settled itself across his features.
The itch for dynamite returned.
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(3)- And this is where I happened to check my word count only to find I had exactly 8059- to my utter shame; I squealed.
The Italian
Che?- What?
Che cosa fai?- What are you doing?
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I hope you all enjoyed it, even if it was cut halfway through TT_TT