[Fic]Dexterity
Written for khrkinkmeme
Prompt: 5980 AU
Yamamoto is a male stripper hired for Gokudera's sister's bachelorette party. Gokudera falls for him at first sight and seduces him
Author: Lamp lampazo_libre
Title: Dexterity
Pairing: 5980.
Wordcount: 2300.
Rating: R.
A/N: Written on a whim, because the prompt was just too delicious to resist. Thank you, Melissa, for finding the thread for me! \o/
Through, I don’t even know how well it corresponds with the kink meme concept.
Also, now it’s 5.20 am in my time zone, so all remaining typos can go to hell.
And the last one. Since it's striptease, appropriate music was obligatory, hence three links in the text. Every song is supposed to start right where the link is placed.
Truth be told, Takeshi really likes his part-time job.
He likes make people happy, likes dancing and has no problems being the center of attention. Besides, flextime working and the opportunity to mostly cover himself his fees for the university please Takeshi as well. Overall, it’s pretty funny, and so far he was always able to gently turn down especially eager girls without causing any problems - so, really, he has no reasons to complain.
Takeshi knocks at the door and cheerfully smiles at a young pink-haired woman who opens. “Hello there!”
The pink-haired woman nods. “Takeshi Yamamoto?”
Takeshi winks. “Absolutely right! Takeshi Yamamoto, here to entertain! So, where’s the bride?”
The woman steps back to let Takeshi in and points at herself. “I’m the bride.”
“Whoa!” Takeshi whistles, shrugging off his coat, “I thought it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Was it?” The woman gestures for Takeshi to follow and leads him further into the apartment.
They enter a big living room, decorated with myriads of air balloons and several girls in various states of inebriation. They stare at Takeshi with delight and poorly hidden anticipation, and he genuinely smiles back.
Takeshi asks for audio-system, the bride gestures at the corner of the room, and then Takeshi sees that he’s not the only one male present. A man, Takeshi’s age or so, lours at everyone from the sofa and looks rather out of place here. Isn’t it a bachelorette party, Takeshi thinks as he notices that the man is very skinny and very handsome. The man slowly places his glass on the nearby table, looking attentively at Takeshi, and Takeshi suddenly feels very awkward, even though it’s not his first time performing before mixed auditory.
Takeshi quickly shrugs the thought aside - he’s here for business after all - and snatches his CD in, pushing the play button. Music fills the room, and the audio system must be really good: is sounds exactly like it should be played in the club, vibrating through his ribs, loud, rhythmic and a little bit dangerous. Exciting. Takeshi prefers club music for his dances - it suits his style, more dynamic and less personal than slow, viscous ballads. He lets the music kick in before he starts - basses, he learned, are really good to set the mood, so, when he stands in the middle of the room, all girls save the bride already tap their toes against the floor.
Takeshi had tried several costumes for his performances, but in the end the one that worked best on him was a black tailored James Bond-like suit. He lets himself slip into the image, closes his eyes for a moment, and, along with first words of the song, starts moving his hips in synch with the beat. First, only some basic movements, to let his body catch the flow, and then, adding more, Takeshi places his hands on his chest and slowly slides them up to his neck and then to his face. Raising his chin, he lets his eyes fall shut and tangles fingers into his hair. Gliding his palms down his cheekbones, he wonders if the silver-haired man is watching him as attentively as he did at the beginning. Takeshi opens his eyes, and looking directly at a blonde girl, who is already about to swoon, hooks a finger under his tie’s knot and starts loosening it. Done with it, he removes the tie with one swift motion, and the girls gasp in unison. Takeshi smirks and moves to the top button of his shirt. After worrying it for several moments, he unfastens it, and grabs the collar of his jacket, pushing it up, and then starting to slowly pull it down from his shoulders. Takeshi allows his hips to move more loosely now - it’s almost an instinct at this point, as if he was in the middle of a dance floor, and glances in the corner. The man is watching Takeshi, his eyes devoid of any kind of both lusty leer that Takeshi’s used to receiving from women, and lenient disapproval that he sometimes gets from men. It looks like the man is observing Takeshi without any emotions, and Takeshi stubbornly snakes a hand under his belt with twice artistry compared to usual. The girls follow his every movement with hungry excitement, and it’s not long before they will start to scream. Takeshi dances up to a flustered brunette and lets her unbuckle his belt, eventually stepping away, and leaving the belt in her arms.
Jacket and tie gone and shirt unbuttoned, Takeshi lowers onto his knees and arches back, letting his pectorals and abs be ogled. He splays his fingers against them and hears the first squeal - that’s when the silver-haired man silently rises from his sofa and discretely strides out of the room. Disappointment sluices over Takeshi like cold water, but he’s not an amateur in the business, and even if his performance from this point is less soulful, he makes up for it with his technique.
Three minutes later, when Takeshi finishes, he’s free of all his clothes save from the boxers, and the auditory practically roars. Even the bride looks energized. Takeshi diplomatically untangles himself from an embrace of a too enthusiastic girl with avant-garde haircut, bows, and moves to stop the music.
The girls circle Takeshi with giggling, and he smiles, letting himself be pulled into a small talk. The bride - Bianchi, Takeshi learns, offers him to stay till the end of party, as a guest, and he agrees - he likes company, and the girls don’t seem to be fussing too much over him. More importantly, even if the silver-haired man had retreated from the room, Takeshi doesn’t want to let go of chance to see him again just yet.
“Besides,” he says, laughing, to Bianchi, while the rest of girls spread out across the room, “I don’t think people would appreciate if I’d go down the street without any pants on.”
They both turn simultaneously to the brunette, who’s protectively clutching Takeshi’s slacks close to her chest, and Bianchi sighs. “Fifteen minutes, and I’ll pry them off for you. Something to drink? Champagne? Wine? I think Hayato’s stack is somewhere here too.”
“Haha, no,” grins Takeshi, “I’ll be fine with milk.”
“Grab it in the kitchen then. Be a good boy, take it yourself, will you?”
Giving a permission to use his CD for the rest of evening and instructed in exchange with whereabouts of the kitchen, Takeshi leaves the room and quickly navigates his way through the apartment, pushing the kitchen door open.
“What the fuck? Bonus performance?” The silver-haired man is sitting at the counter. Considering his slenderness, the man has a surprisingly gruff timbre of voice, probably due to cigarettes - one of them is dangling from the man’s fingers, and the astray on the counter is full of cigar butts.
“Haha, sorry,” smiles Takeshi, wrinkling his nose, “I just wanted to grab some milk. And the girl from the room kind of took my pants hostage.”
The man rolls his eyes. “Fuck, it must be Haru, she’s batshit. Come in, and close the bloody door, my ears are about to bleed.”
Takeshi laughs, rather lamely, since the man doesn’t even smile, and closes the door. The sound of music indeed subsides, but Takeshi still can clearly hear all of it. He quickly admires the audio system, and moves to the fringe. The man continues openly watching him, just like he did in the living room, and smokes. He has long, bony fingers, and holds his cigarette almost at the end of them, touching his knuckles with his lips when he inhales. Takeshi briefly wonders if he’s aware himself of how attractive the grace of his loose movements is.
Takeshi extracts the milk, and carefully sits on the opposite side of counter, feeling vaguely nervous.
“I’m Yamamoto. Takeshi Yamamoto.” He starts, uncomfortable with silence.
“Great.”
Pause stretches out, and Takeshi tries another time. “And you are?”
“Gokudera.” The man - Gokudera - crushes his current cigarette in the ashtray, and takes a generous sip from a glass standing next to him. Takeshi looks at his messy white shirt, seemingly mismatched endless accessories, disastrous hair, and gulps.
“Hey, nice to meet you. Hope we will get along?” Gokudera’s eyebrows rise for a moment, and Yamamoto hurriedly adds “So, what are you doing here?”
“Drinking whiskey and smoking.” Gokudera’s expression wordlessly tells Yamamoto that it wasn’t the smartest question to ask.
Takeshi’s smile doesn’t waver. “No, I mean, it’s a bachelorette party, right?”
“Oh, that.” Gokudera motions distractedly and reaches for a new cigarette. “I’m Bianchi’s - the bride’s - brother.” He makes a dirty face and clicks the lighter open.
Now Takeshi sees the obvious resemblance between the two, they even have similarly green eyes - through Gokudera’s have a different shape, rather unusual one.
“You’re living here?”
“No.” Gokudera makes even dirtier face. “We’re bonding.”
He takes a deep draw, gulps some whiskey straight after it, and exhales at Takeshi’s direction, looking him straight into the eyes. Takeshi barely stands a sudden wave of arousal.
“So you’re living with your girlfriend?”
“The hell?” Gokudera’s brows fly up, and Takeshi inwardly panics at the boldness of the question.
“Ah, sorry.” He mutters, and feels color spreading up his face. The most uncomfortable part in blushing is that when you start thinking about it, you will blush even more, and Takeshi feels his face growing almost uncomfortably warm.
Gokudera says nothing, instead just knocking down more whiskey. Music changes into something more slow-paced, and Gokudera glides a finger along the rim of his glass. Takeshi watches the finger disappear into Gokudera’s mouth for a moment and can’t bring himself to look away.
“What about you, prettyboy? Why striptease? A crazy fetish of yours?” Gokudera asks, dabbing ash away with a practiced movement.
“No, no, hey!” Takeshi nearly topples over his glass. “No fetishes. It’s just fun, y’know.”
Gokudera snorts. “Fun.” He exhales in the ceiling, throwing back his head. Mesmerized, Takeshi looks at the sharp line of his neck, at the bobbing Adam’s apple, at his half-lidded eyes. “So, you’re into banging ladies after?”
Takeshi blinks. He senses he should feel affected here. “I’m not… bedding any girls I’m dancing for. Period.”
Gokudera smirks, first time on Takeshi - when he does it, two of his upper teeth on the left side become visible. “A noble knight?”
“It’s unprofessional.” Takeshi swallows thickly. “And I’m not interested.”
Gokudera’s gaze is not moving. “Not interested?”
Takeshi nods.
Gokudera’s gaze lands on Takeshi’s lips for a moment, and returns to his eyes. Takeshi holds it, feeling blood pumping into his ears.
Seconds go by, and the music in the living room is changing yet again - one of those ballads on Takeshi’s disc.
Gokudera’s smirk grows wider. “Dance for me.”
Takeshi’s heart jumps straight into his throat. “What?”
“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re shy.” Gokudera half-turns on his chair, moving now to face a patch of free space in the middle of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”
Takeshi opens his mouth and closes it. Opens it again. “I’m only in my boxers.”
The look in Gokudera’s eyes is outright provocative. “Chicken?”
Takeshi pushes his hands away from the counter, rises from his chair and goes round the table to stand directly against Gokudera.
Gokudera lazily looks Takeshi up, pausing offhandedly on his fully developed erection. “So?”
Takeshi starts slowly moving his hips, adjusting to the music.
“Closer.”
Gokudera’s eyes don’t move from Takeshi’s, and Takeshi almost senses the air around getting thicker. He touches himself, abdomen all the way up to chest, slides his hands up to his collarbone.
Gokudera’s fingertips brush lightly above Takeshi’s right hip. Takeshi gasps and stops, but when Gokudera’s brow quirks up, he resumes dancing, not really aware of what kind of movements he does.
Gokudera’s eyes shine darkly, and his fingers travel along the hem of Takeshi’s boxers. Takeshi tries not to pant, and moves so close his and Gokudera’s knees are touching. Two of Gokudera’s fingers slip halfway under Takeshi’s boxers elastic band, so close he can feel the heat of Gokudera’s flesh with the tip of his cock. Takeshi’s head spins; he never could imagine that sensory overload from suck shallow touch is possible. Gokudera pulls at Takeshi’s public hair, and Takeshi groans aloud.
“Gokudera.” He whispers heavily. “Please.”
Gokudera looks devilish. “Please what?”
His fingers move a millimeter, nails grazing Takeshi’s cock, and Takeshi breaks.
“Please take me in your mouth, Gokudera… please. Take me.”
Gokudera bites at the corner of his lower lip. “…Okay.”
He yanks Takeshi’s boxers down without hesitation and, with one hand, anchors his hips firmly into place. Gokudera doesn’t take his eyes away from Takeshi’s; Takeshi can feel his damp breath on his skin, Gokudera licks a sloppy wet trail all the way up Takeshi’s dick-
Takeshi bites his fingers as not to moan, his eyes roll back into his head, he looks down at Gokudera and trembles, back hitting the edge of the counter. Gokudera closes his mouth around Takeshi, pressing tightly, and starts moving. Takeshi’s face crumbles, he presses his fists into his eyes and feels of his palms into his mouth, and he’s so close.
Gokudera’s bony hand moves past Takeshi’s balls to press on the sensitive spot at the very base, Takeshi feels his right eye twitching, and finally comes apart.
When Takeshi comes back to reality, he’s halfway sagged against the counter, halfway on Gokudera’s lap, and Gokudera looks smug.
“I didn’t answer, by the way.” He says. “I live alone.”
Takeshi smiles.