Fic: Downpour (2/2)
Title: Downpour
Author: kittyling
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: 8059 (Yamamoto x Gokudera)
Warnings: The sex isn't really graphic, but it's there.
Notes: The first part of this fic is here. I actually had no intention of writing a sequel when I wrote the first one, but everyone's comments convinced me. I hope you all enjoy it. ♥
Gokudera never wanted this.
If he kept telling himself that, it would eventually be true. For now he focused on the satisfying click of his lighter and the even more satisfying sensation of smoke filling his lungs as he inhaled deeply, long enough to really feel it. As Gokudera exhaled he tilted his head back against the brick wall of the alley, cigarette held limply in his hand and he stared into space, trying not to think.
It had been a couple of weeks now. His interactions with Yamamoto were as frequent as they used to be: few and far between unless the Tenth was involved, and even then Yamamoto didn't go out of his way to speak to him. Just the usual smiles and dumb comments.
Gokudera should have been happy about that. He should have been ecstatic that that idiot was leaving him alone, that there were no more smiles just for him and no more kisses stolen in the rain.
He didn't know what he was, but it wasn't happy. He wasn't happy when he found himself itching to throw a stick of dynamite at Yamamoto's head whenever that idiot was surrounded by giggling girls, or when he felt that awful, unfamiliar tightening in his chest when the idiot was walking alone with one of them. He wasn't happy when he let his mind wander and his thoughts would always, without fail, come to rest on that night.
Sometimes Gokudera wished that he had finished the entire bottle of sake himself so that the details could be fuzzy or completely black, but they weren't. Everything was crystal-goddamn-clear, down to the way Yamamoto's fingers had felt against his skin, calloused but still soft somehow. Same with his lips, a little chapped and rough but there was something gentle about him even when he was kissing Gokudera with all the force he had in him. Like he actually cared, beyond just some basic physical desire.
As much as Gokudera wanted to blame everything that happened on the alcohol--or on Yamamoto--he knew that wasn't all it was.
He hated it, fucking hated thinking about it all the time. Putting a stop to whatever the hell it was that they'd had between them was supposed to make all of this go away, but instead Gokudera found himself becoming more agitated as the days went on.
Which meant that he'd been more explosive and far more careless, snapping when he didn't mean to and making far too many mistakes in training. Bandages to cover burns that shouldn't be there, and Gokudera flinched at the concern in the Tenth's voice whenever he noticed a new one. It just meant that Gokudera was a failure, and instead of progressing and getting over this already, he was falling further into this stupid hole he'd managed to dig for himself.
Yamamoto had gotten over it. That much was clear from the fact that he no longer went out of his way to talk to Gokudera at school, to walk home with him, to ask him for help with homework. Didn't even really seem to notice him anymore.
Gokudera flicked the buildup of ash off the end of his cigarette, making a face at the ground before taking another drag. All he needed to do was forget, and none of it would bother him. Everything would be back to normal.
"You'll die young if you keep going through a pack a day."
Gokudera started at that, losing his grip on his cigarette and swearing loudly as the tip burned his finger. He didn't want to look up, using the dropped cigarette as an excuse to stare at the ground for a moment longer, using a little more force than necessary to crush it into the concrete with the sole of his shoe.
Once that was done Gokudera had to look up. And there he was, sports bag slung over one shoulder, hair mussed and clothes a little dirty. Expression impossible to read for once, a slight smile on his lips as he met Gokudera's gaze, brown eyes--concerned, maybe?
Gokudera's gaze moved immediately back down to his finger, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in it as he reached into his pocket for his lighter and another cigarette, getting himself situated with that before bothering with Yamamoto, exhaling smoke and keeping his gaze focused on anything but the taller boy.
"What's it to you? In this profession we could die tomorrow, anyway." Gokudera shrugged, staring at the end of the cigarette, brilliant red sparks against grey ash. He flicked it again.
He felt more than saw Yamamoto step in closer, leaning against the wall beside him, close but not too close.
Maybe not close enough.
It was amazing how even now, even in the cool evening air--not cold, but pleasant, for once not stifling with summer humidity--he could make a space feel instantly warmer. Gokudera didn't want to be in this position, alone with him for the first time in weeks. It made him want to leave and find another place to hunker down with his cigarettes, having to quell the urge to just walk away, fidgeting slightly instead.
Yamamoto had apparently chosen to ignore his last comment, but Gokudera could feel his gaze on him, that only serving to make him more self-conscious.
"How've you been?"
Yamamoto's voice was low and softer than Gokudera expected and he glanced up at that. The idiot's expression was still impossible to read.
"Just peachy." Gokudera's fingers twitched, wishing that the cigarette would actually do its job and calm him down, feeling as if all of the anxiety he'd felt over the past couple weeks was expanding within him and would explode if he stayed here much longer. "You saw me yesterday, so why're you asking? Idiot."
"Maybe because you have three new bandages today," Yamamoto nodded towards Gokudera, gaze lingering on the hand holding the cigarette, smiling apologetically, "Though I guess that injury was my fault."
"A lot of things are your fault."
It was sharper than Gokudera intended, voice laced with anger and something else. He hadn't even meant to say it, but maybe if he kept it up Yamamoto would leave. This was too hard when he was still trying to push past all the stupid things he'd felt and said and wanted to say and shouldn't have said. All the things he'd done and should've done and wanted to do and shouldn't have done.
And within that mess of uncertainties, Gokudera knew, finally knew that the one thing he really, honestly wanted was right next to him.
But Yamamoto was straightening, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and taking a step away from the wall. And there was that dumb apologetic smile again, like he owed Gokudera something when he didn't and should've damn well known that.
"I guess so, huh? I'll leave you to your cigarettes."
Gokudera should've said Good, so the idiot would go away and he could find that moment of peace he'd been so desperately searching for. Should've finished his cigarette and watched Yamamoto's retreating back. Just a silhouette as he moved out of the alley, light growing dimmer as the sun started its descent towards the horizon, blue sky beginning to fade into brilliant oranges and reds.
Instead, Gokudera did what he wanted. Threw the rest of his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out, fingers trembling slightly as he clenched his hand into a fist, voice shaking as much as his hands and he hoped that was masked by the force behind it, calling after him.
"Tell me that you want me."
He hadn't exactly thought that over, just let it spill out and the silence that followed was almost deafening beyond that awful pounding in Gokudera's ears, his heartbeat going into overdrive. Yamamoto's silhouette stilled until finally, after an excruciating wait, the taller boy turned, face obscured by shadow.
"What?"
"Fuck, I'm not going to say it again." Gokudera couldn't meet his gaze, fingers brushing shakily through silver hair, suddenly wishing he hadn't gotten rid of his cigarette. "Do you have any idea--" He did look up as Yamamoto stepped back into the alley, green eyes angry and he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, hating that as much as the way Yamamoto was looking at him now because he couldn't for the life of him tell what the idiot was thinking. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"
Do you have any idea how much I want you?
Yamamoto just watched him for a moment, didn't smile, didn't say something light-hearted or stupid. He was close again, in front of Gokudera, dropping his bag and lifting a hand to rest against the wall by Gokudera's head, effectively pinning him there and forcing eye contact.
And then Yamamoto was kissing him, for the first time since that night. But now there was no alcohol, no desperation, just...lips moving softly against Gokudera's, fingers moving to trace the curve of his cheek and then down his neck, pulse thrumming against them. Gokudera thought his heart might explode if it were pounding any harder.
Yamamoto pulled back after a long moment and Gokudera felt the loss immediately, though their faces were still close in the darkening alley. The taller boy's expression was serious for once, brown eyes searching his, voice low and Gokudera was surprised to hear the slight tremor in it when he finally spoke.
"Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"
For a moment Gokudera felt as if he were being stretched, the ache in his chest seeming to encompass his entire body until finally, something snapped or fell into place or-- He didn't know what was happening but he was done trying to justify this or push it away and pretend nothing was happening. Something was happening and he'd be damned if he sat back and let it disappear without acting on it.
Gokudera lifted his hands, fingers clenching in the fabric of Yamamoto's shirt as he tugged downward, leaning in and pressing his lips to Yamamoto's. He wondered if he tasted awful, like the cigarettes he'd just finished but Yamamoto didn't seem to care, lips parting against Gokudera's, tongue sliding into his mouth.
Gokudera wondered how something as stupidly simple as a kiss could make him so aware of every sensation--the rough-soft brush of Yamamoto's tongue and lips against his, the warmth of the taller boy's body as he pressed in closer, the space between them reduced to almost nothing. And he wondered at the fact that he could want so much more of all of it, fingers tightening in the fabric of Yamamoto's shirt as he kissed him harder, Yamamoto responding with equal fervor.
Everything seem to speed up and slow down all at once, both of them breaking the kiss long enough to start tugging at shirts and belts, heartbeats loud and breathing heavy. Gokudera's bare back scratched unpleasantly against the brick wall, biting his lip hard as that displaced a bandage. Yamamoto's hands stopped their assault on Gokudera's belts, gaze drifting over his torso and Gokudera hated the way his eyebrows furrowed in concern at the number of burns there, some covered and others exposed.
"Stop staring--"
Yamamoto's lips cut off whatever else he was going to say, pressing them to Gokudera's jaw and then his neck, murmuring against it.
"I don't want to do this here. My house?"
The sun was just dipping below the horizon as they made it out of the alley, clothes thrown hastily back on and in the growing darkness Yamamoto reached for Gokudera's hand, the Storm Guardian for once not pulling away or cursing at him, fingers entwined and warm as the two boys stumbled in the door. The sky was deepening from violet to midnight blue, a few thick clouds beginning to gather overhead as the door slammed shut behind them.
Another door was slammed as they made it into Yamamoto's room, and Gokudera wondered how they got here. How an hour ago he'd promised to shove thoughts of this into the furthest reaches of his mind, to lock them up and throw away the key and now-- Now he was on Yamamoto's bed and his shirt was being pulled over his head and thrown somewhere onto the floor, Yamamoto leaning over him, Gokudera's hair falling into his own eyes before a large hand brushed it back, lingering on his cheek.
And then they were kissing again and Gokudera didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop, fingers roaming to buttons and belt buckles, feeling their way through getting them undone and off and zippers pulled and-- Gokudera bit down hard on Yamamoto's lip as he felt strong hands slip under the waist of his pants, his whimper lost in their kiss as Yamamoto started to stroke him.
He wasn't used to feeling this exposed to one other person but right now that didn't seem to matter, not when they were fumbling to get the last of their clothes off, to just have skin touching skin and finally they were there, limbs tangling and bodies warm and still not close enough, fingers roaming everywhere they could touch. Gokudera felt too warm as they began to move against each other, skin slick with sweat, somewhat clumsy but still deliberate in their touches.
"Gokudera--"
Yamamoto's breath was hot against his ear, voice low and unsteady and for once he didn't hate the sound of his name on those lips. For once he didn't want to push him away; and for once he wanted nothing more to be right here, kissing this stupid, infuriating, incredible person. For once he didn't want to let go.
Neither of them noticed the sound of rain against the windowpanes until late into the night, the room dark, pale moonlight filtering through drops of water against cool glass. Gokudera lay on his side, sheets low on his hips, an arm around his waist and fingers still entwined, though loosely now. Yamamoto was asleep and Gokudera let his gaze drift to the window, listening to the steady downpour.
It was raining again, and Gokudera wasn't going to wish it away.
Author: kittyling
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: 8059 (Yamamoto x Gokudera)
Warnings: The sex isn't really graphic, but it's there.
Notes: The first part of this fic is here. I actually had no intention of writing a sequel when I wrote the first one, but everyone's comments convinced me. I hope you all enjoy it. ♥
Gokudera never wanted this.
If he kept telling himself that, it would eventually be true. For now he focused on the satisfying click of his lighter and the even more satisfying sensation of smoke filling his lungs as he inhaled deeply, long enough to really feel it. As Gokudera exhaled he tilted his head back against the brick wall of the alley, cigarette held limply in his hand and he stared into space, trying not to think.
It had been a couple of weeks now. His interactions with Yamamoto were as frequent as they used to be: few and far between unless the Tenth was involved, and even then Yamamoto didn't go out of his way to speak to him. Just the usual smiles and dumb comments.
Gokudera should have been happy about that. He should have been ecstatic that that idiot was leaving him alone, that there were no more smiles just for him and no more kisses stolen in the rain.
He didn't know what he was, but it wasn't happy. He wasn't happy when he found himself itching to throw a stick of dynamite at Yamamoto's head whenever that idiot was surrounded by giggling girls, or when he felt that awful, unfamiliar tightening in his chest when the idiot was walking alone with one of them. He wasn't happy when he let his mind wander and his thoughts would always, without fail, come to rest on that night.
Sometimes Gokudera wished that he had finished the entire bottle of sake himself so that the details could be fuzzy or completely black, but they weren't. Everything was crystal-goddamn-clear, down to the way Yamamoto's fingers had felt against his skin, calloused but still soft somehow. Same with his lips, a little chapped and rough but there was something gentle about him even when he was kissing Gokudera with all the force he had in him. Like he actually cared, beyond just some basic physical desire.
As much as Gokudera wanted to blame everything that happened on the alcohol--or on Yamamoto--he knew that wasn't all it was.
He hated it, fucking hated thinking about it all the time. Putting a stop to whatever the hell it was that they'd had between them was supposed to make all of this go away, but instead Gokudera found himself becoming more agitated as the days went on.
Which meant that he'd been more explosive and far more careless, snapping when he didn't mean to and making far too many mistakes in training. Bandages to cover burns that shouldn't be there, and Gokudera flinched at the concern in the Tenth's voice whenever he noticed a new one. It just meant that Gokudera was a failure, and instead of progressing and getting over this already, he was falling further into this stupid hole he'd managed to dig for himself.
Yamamoto had gotten over it. That much was clear from the fact that he no longer went out of his way to talk to Gokudera at school, to walk home with him, to ask him for help with homework. Didn't even really seem to notice him anymore.
Gokudera flicked the buildup of ash off the end of his cigarette, making a face at the ground before taking another drag. All he needed to do was forget, and none of it would bother him. Everything would be back to normal.
"You'll die young if you keep going through a pack a day."
Gokudera started at that, losing his grip on his cigarette and swearing loudly as the tip burned his finger. He didn't want to look up, using the dropped cigarette as an excuse to stare at the ground for a moment longer, using a little more force than necessary to crush it into the concrete with the sole of his shoe.
Once that was done Gokudera had to look up. And there he was, sports bag slung over one shoulder, hair mussed and clothes a little dirty. Expression impossible to read for once, a slight smile on his lips as he met Gokudera's gaze, brown eyes--concerned, maybe?
Gokudera's gaze moved immediately back down to his finger, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in it as he reached into his pocket for his lighter and another cigarette, getting himself situated with that before bothering with Yamamoto, exhaling smoke and keeping his gaze focused on anything but the taller boy.
"What's it to you? In this profession we could die tomorrow, anyway." Gokudera shrugged, staring at the end of the cigarette, brilliant red sparks against grey ash. He flicked it again.
He felt more than saw Yamamoto step in closer, leaning against the wall beside him, close but not too close.
Maybe not close enough.
It was amazing how even now, even in the cool evening air--not cold, but pleasant, for once not stifling with summer humidity--he could make a space feel instantly warmer. Gokudera didn't want to be in this position, alone with him for the first time in weeks. It made him want to leave and find another place to hunker down with his cigarettes, having to quell the urge to just walk away, fidgeting slightly instead.
Yamamoto had apparently chosen to ignore his last comment, but Gokudera could feel his gaze on him, that only serving to make him more self-conscious.
"How've you been?"
Yamamoto's voice was low and softer than Gokudera expected and he glanced up at that. The idiot's expression was still impossible to read.
"Just peachy." Gokudera's fingers twitched, wishing that the cigarette would actually do its job and calm him down, feeling as if all of the anxiety he'd felt over the past couple weeks was expanding within him and would explode if he stayed here much longer. "You saw me yesterday, so why're you asking? Idiot."
"Maybe because you have three new bandages today," Yamamoto nodded towards Gokudera, gaze lingering on the hand holding the cigarette, smiling apologetically, "Though I guess that injury was my fault."
"A lot of things are your fault."
It was sharper than Gokudera intended, voice laced with anger and something else. He hadn't even meant to say it, but maybe if he kept it up Yamamoto would leave. This was too hard when he was still trying to push past all the stupid things he'd felt and said and wanted to say and shouldn't have said. All the things he'd done and should've done and wanted to do and shouldn't have done.
And within that mess of uncertainties, Gokudera knew, finally knew that the one thing he really, honestly wanted was right next to him.
But Yamamoto was straightening, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and taking a step away from the wall. And there was that dumb apologetic smile again, like he owed Gokudera something when he didn't and should've damn well known that.
"I guess so, huh? I'll leave you to your cigarettes."
Gokudera should've said Good, so the idiot would go away and he could find that moment of peace he'd been so desperately searching for. Should've finished his cigarette and watched Yamamoto's retreating back. Just a silhouette as he moved out of the alley, light growing dimmer as the sun started its descent towards the horizon, blue sky beginning to fade into brilliant oranges and reds.
Instead, Gokudera did what he wanted. Threw the rest of his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out, fingers trembling slightly as he clenched his hand into a fist, voice shaking as much as his hands and he hoped that was masked by the force behind it, calling after him.
"Tell me that you want me."
He hadn't exactly thought that over, just let it spill out and the silence that followed was almost deafening beyond that awful pounding in Gokudera's ears, his heartbeat going into overdrive. Yamamoto's silhouette stilled until finally, after an excruciating wait, the taller boy turned, face obscured by shadow.
"What?"
"Fuck, I'm not going to say it again." Gokudera couldn't meet his gaze, fingers brushing shakily through silver hair, suddenly wishing he hadn't gotten rid of his cigarette. "Do you have any idea--" He did look up as Yamamoto stepped back into the alley, green eyes angry and he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, hating that as much as the way Yamamoto was looking at him now because he couldn't for the life of him tell what the idiot was thinking. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"
Do you have any idea how much I want you?
Yamamoto just watched him for a moment, didn't smile, didn't say something light-hearted or stupid. He was close again, in front of Gokudera, dropping his bag and lifting a hand to rest against the wall by Gokudera's head, effectively pinning him there and forcing eye contact.
And then Yamamoto was kissing him, for the first time since that night. But now there was no alcohol, no desperation, just...lips moving softly against Gokudera's, fingers moving to trace the curve of his cheek and then down his neck, pulse thrumming against them. Gokudera thought his heart might explode if it were pounding any harder.
Yamamoto pulled back after a long moment and Gokudera felt the loss immediately, though their faces were still close in the darkening alley. The taller boy's expression was serious for once, brown eyes searching his, voice low and Gokudera was surprised to hear the slight tremor in it when he finally spoke.
"Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"
For a moment Gokudera felt as if he were being stretched, the ache in his chest seeming to encompass his entire body until finally, something snapped or fell into place or-- He didn't know what was happening but he was done trying to justify this or push it away and pretend nothing was happening. Something was happening and he'd be damned if he sat back and let it disappear without acting on it.
Gokudera lifted his hands, fingers clenching in the fabric of Yamamoto's shirt as he tugged downward, leaning in and pressing his lips to Yamamoto's. He wondered if he tasted awful, like the cigarettes he'd just finished but Yamamoto didn't seem to care, lips parting against Gokudera's, tongue sliding into his mouth.
Gokudera wondered how something as stupidly simple as a kiss could make him so aware of every sensation--the rough-soft brush of Yamamoto's tongue and lips against his, the warmth of the taller boy's body as he pressed in closer, the space between them reduced to almost nothing. And he wondered at the fact that he could want so much more of all of it, fingers tightening in the fabric of Yamamoto's shirt as he kissed him harder, Yamamoto responding with equal fervor.
Everything seem to speed up and slow down all at once, both of them breaking the kiss long enough to start tugging at shirts and belts, heartbeats loud and breathing heavy. Gokudera's bare back scratched unpleasantly against the brick wall, biting his lip hard as that displaced a bandage. Yamamoto's hands stopped their assault on Gokudera's belts, gaze drifting over his torso and Gokudera hated the way his eyebrows furrowed in concern at the number of burns there, some covered and others exposed.
"Stop staring--"
Yamamoto's lips cut off whatever else he was going to say, pressing them to Gokudera's jaw and then his neck, murmuring against it.
"I don't want to do this here. My house?"
The sun was just dipping below the horizon as they made it out of the alley, clothes thrown hastily back on and in the growing darkness Yamamoto reached for Gokudera's hand, the Storm Guardian for once not pulling away or cursing at him, fingers entwined and warm as the two boys stumbled in the door. The sky was deepening from violet to midnight blue, a few thick clouds beginning to gather overhead as the door slammed shut behind them.
Another door was slammed as they made it into Yamamoto's room, and Gokudera wondered how they got here. How an hour ago he'd promised to shove thoughts of this into the furthest reaches of his mind, to lock them up and throw away the key and now-- Now he was on Yamamoto's bed and his shirt was being pulled over his head and thrown somewhere onto the floor, Yamamoto leaning over him, Gokudera's hair falling into his own eyes before a large hand brushed it back, lingering on his cheek.
And then they were kissing again and Gokudera didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop, fingers roaming to buttons and belt buckles, feeling their way through getting them undone and off and zippers pulled and-- Gokudera bit down hard on Yamamoto's lip as he felt strong hands slip under the waist of his pants, his whimper lost in their kiss as Yamamoto started to stroke him.
He wasn't used to feeling this exposed to one other person but right now that didn't seem to matter, not when they were fumbling to get the last of their clothes off, to just have skin touching skin and finally they were there, limbs tangling and bodies warm and still not close enough, fingers roaming everywhere they could touch. Gokudera felt too warm as they began to move against each other, skin slick with sweat, somewhat clumsy but still deliberate in their touches.
"Gokudera--"
Yamamoto's breath was hot against his ear, voice low and unsteady and for once he didn't hate the sound of his name on those lips. For once he didn't want to push him away; and for once he wanted nothing more to be right here, kissing this stupid, infuriating, incredible person. For once he didn't want to let go.
Neither of them noticed the sound of rain against the windowpanes until late into the night, the room dark, pale moonlight filtering through drops of water against cool glass. Gokudera lay on his side, sheets low on his hips, an arm around his waist and fingers still entwined, though loosely now. Yamamoto was asleep and Gokudera let his gaze drift to the window, listening to the steady downpour.
It was raining again, and Gokudera wasn't going to wish it away.