[Fic] When Sushi Gets in the Bedroom
Title: When Sushi Gets in the Bedroom
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing(s): 8059 (Yamamoto/Gokudera)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for the KHR Kink Meme (rebornmeme)
Original prompt: Yamamoto/Gokudera, nantaimori. Or, in other words, the practice of eating sushi off of a naked body ;D (in this case, a male's)
Hayato Gokudera was twenty-five, an expert in explosives, a master of the Sistema CAI and the Vongola Tenth’s respected Right Hand Man. He had also been seeing Takeshi Yamamoto for the past four years at that point. Four years of grousing, arguing and tentative affection-four years that the both of them had cherished dearly, though Gokudera would never admit to it out loud.
But it was on their fourth anniversary that Yamamoto suggested they celebrate by doing something... different.
“It’s called nantaimori.” Yamamoto grinned widely, eyes flashing darkly. “You probably know it better as body sushi,” he laughed.
Gokudera stared incredulously at the swordsman. “You’re kidding me,” he said flatly. “You want to eat sushi off me for our anniversary?” he snorted, long arms folding elegantly over his chest-broadened slightly over time. “That’s the lamest anniversary present ever.”
“Not for me,” Yamamoto hummed, chuckling softly. “Come on, Gokudera! I’ll make the sushi,” he murmured, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Gokudera’s waist. “You just go and take a nice, long bath....” He breathed out against the back of the silver-haired man’s neck, kissing the back of it lightly. “Relax for a bit and wash up... I’ll get everything ready.”
The Italian shivered slightly, sagging back against Yamamoto. “Idiot,” he grumbled. “Fine. As long as you get everything ready.”
---
Gokudera was happy and relaxed by the time he stepped out of the bathroom. Every muscle was relaxed, feeling almost like they had melted underneath his skin. A good soak in a tub of hot water in a quiet, steamy room with only the soft sounds of chopping from the kitchen to accompany him tended to do that. The Italian let out a long, satisfied sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair.
And then noticed the red silk sheet over his bed. And the candles.
“....What the fuck?”
Gokudera glanced around the room, noticing Yamamoto beaming over in the corner with a large, colourful platter of sushi. Reds, pinks, deep greens and stark whites dotted the silver plate in an altogether beautiful display of how truly skilful Takeshi had become at making sushi.
“Lay down,” the dark haired man hummed, walking over to the side of the bed. When Gokudera hesitated, he laughed and said, “I’m not going to bite, Gokudera. Just lie down and relax, okay?”
The silver-haired man frowned slightly and dropped the towel on the floor, carefully crawling onto the bed and laying down on the cool silk. He hissed at the somewhat cold feeling of the fabric against his back, fidgeting as he tried to find a more comfortable position. “Hurry up, Takeshi. This is your present, after all,” he grumbled, feeling almost self-conscious being completely nude and exposed in front of his lover-not that he hadn’t been before, but there was something... unnerving about watching Yamamoto stare like that.
Like he was... hungry.
Yamamoto just smiled and reached forward, long fingers brushing over Gokudera’s pale skin. “I know,” he sighed, plucking a piece of sushi off of the platter.
The bomber closed his eyes and shivered as the cool rice and raw fish was placed against his skin. He lay still as Yamamoto designed the pieces of sushi in intricate patterns, even going as far to add in flowers and flower petals to accent the colours in the sushi pieces.
“Did you study this or something?” Gokudera’s lips quirked upwards at the corners as he held in a snicker.
“Don’t talk!” Yamamoto laughed, putting the final couple of pieces down the other man’s thigh. “And I guess you could say that. I mean... I looked this sort of stuff up and all.” He smiled warmly, grabbing a piece of sushi out of Gokudera’s palm and popping it into his mouth. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, swallowing the rice and fish, leaning down to kiss the silver-haired man.
“Don’t kiss me, idiot,” Gokudera growled. “You taste like fish.”
Yamamoto chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he hummed. He leaned down, lips brushing over milky skin and a sharp collarbone, fingers roaming over patches of free skin that weren’t touched by flowers or fish. “Delicious,” he purred, mouth enclosing over a piece of sushi covering one of Gokudera’s nipples.
“Shit,” the Italian inhaled sharply as Yamamoto started sucking lightly on that nipple, swallowing rice as he went. And, oh fuck, that look.... Takeshi’s eyes were dark and hooded, a sort of heat smouldering in his irises as he stared intently at Gokudera’s face. The silver-haired man had to suppress the urge to squirm as his partner moved over to his other nipple, giving it the same generous treatment as its pair.
Gokudera’s breathing was starting to pick up, body feeling hot already. Yamamoto knew how to push his buttons, coaxing every ounce of arousal out of him from years of practice. He felt the Japanese man’s mouth move lower as slow, open-mouth kisses were being pressed down his chest and stomach, sensually lapping up sushi along the way. He even almost moaned as Yamamoto sucked just above his bellybutton, teeth scraping over his skin.
Yamamoto laughed lightly and looked downward, glancing at Gokudera’s growing erection. “Already, Hayato? I thought you’d at least wait until I was done eating.” He grinned cheekily.
“Shut up,” Gokudera huffed, still trying his hardest not to squirm. “Finish up and then get on with it, moron.”
“You got it,” Yamamoto snickered. He moved his mouth lower, sucking on random patches of skin, leaving dark marks and red spots as he did. The silver-haired man clenched his hands as that mouth purposefully skirted around his hardening cock, nipping at a prominent hipbone instead.
“Shit,” he whispered as he felt a warm tongue slide over his thigh, teeth catching his lip as Takeshi chewed on another piece of sushi.
Gokudera groaned and sat up on his elbows as finally he was free of fish and rice, only a few sticky grains left on his skin. He was slightly flushed and at full hardness, arms and legs stiff from lying still for so goddamn long. “Satisfied, Takeshi?” he growled, hazy eyes narrowing at his smug looking partner.
“Very.” Yamamoto grinned, crawling back up the Italian’s body and looming over him.
“Good. Now come here, idiot,” Gokudera purred, leaning forward slightly and cupping one side of the dark-haired man’s face. His thumb swiped just under Yamamoto’s bottom lip, brushing away a stray grain of rice. “Slob,” he snorted as he kissed Yamamoto hungrily, mouths melding and moving together in a practiced routine. Tongues and lips and saliva mixed and blended into almost one seamless being.
“I love you, Hayato,” Yamamoto whispered against Gokudera’s mouth.
“I love you, too, idiot. Now just do it, for fuck’s sake,” the silver-haired man moaned wantonly, pressing his hips up to grind against Yamamoto’s still-clothed ones.
The swordsman simply laughed and kissed Gokudera again before nodding. He reached into his pants and withdrew a small, new bottle of lube as he wriggled out of his pants completely, kicking them off to the side.
“Going commando?” Gokudera snickered, arching a delicate eyebrow.
“Only for you,” Yamamoto hummed, squirting some clear gel onto his hand and coating his half-hard cock, stroking himself into full hardness. “Ready, Hayato?”
“Just fucking go, idiot.”
Yamamoto rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of Gokudera’s thin hips, raising them up slightly. “Whatever you say,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the silver-haired man’s neck before very slowly and carefully pushing into him.
Gokudera could have choked. The initial stretch of Yamamoto’s dick sliding into him-unprepared-fucking hurt. They had done it this way before, sure, but Gokudera wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to that inital burn of heat inside of him or rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He threw his arms around the dark-haired man’s neck, nails raking down his back.
He felt a pause as Yamamoto’s hips bumped against his and groaned and ground back. Just because it hurt a little didn’t mean he didn’t relish the friction of Yamamoto moving inside of him. “M-move!” he hissed, head tilting to the side as a hot, slick tongue ran over the heated flesh there.
Gokudera loved the feeling of movement just after penetration-hot and steamy and slow; breath mingling as originally suppressed moans bubbled over and tumbled out of their lips. Tongue and lips attaching to whatever skin they could reach, leaving marks and bites and fuck it felt so good....
It was all heat and movement and trying to keep it long and drawn-out that night.
They tried not to rush it, though soon found it difficult as passions mounted to a peak and the animalistic need for release took over. Yamamoto’s hips snapped forward in a rush and a hand groped at Gokudera’s cock, stroking it in quick, jerky motions, thumb pressing into the slit.
“Fuck... Takeshi!” Gokudera croaked, nails digging into Yamamoto’s back as he came into his hand in an explosion of white flashes and a rush of hormones. He whimpered as the black-haired man pulled out quickly and came on one of his thighs-practice from several beatings and being yelled at that coming inside was not sexy.
“Hayato...” Takeshi murmured breathlessly against a pale, now bruised, neck. “You’re amazing,” he laughed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Gokudera grumbled, shoving Yamamoto off to the side before slinging an arm over his waist. The candles were starting to die and the bed was covered in soiled red silk, grains of rice and flower petals, but... it seemed just perfect for the both of them. “Happy anniversary, idiot...."
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing(s): 8059 (Yamamoto/Gokudera)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for the KHR Kink Meme (rebornmeme)
Original prompt: Yamamoto/Gokudera, nantaimori. Or, in other words, the practice of eating sushi off of a naked body ;D (in this case, a male's)
Hayato Gokudera was twenty-five, an expert in explosives, a master of the Sistema CAI and the Vongola Tenth’s respected Right Hand Man. He had also been seeing Takeshi Yamamoto for the past four years at that point. Four years of grousing, arguing and tentative affection-four years that the both of them had cherished dearly, though Gokudera would never admit to it out loud.
But it was on their fourth anniversary that Yamamoto suggested they celebrate by doing something... different.
“It’s called nantaimori.” Yamamoto grinned widely, eyes flashing darkly. “You probably know it better as body sushi,” he laughed.
Gokudera stared incredulously at the swordsman. “You’re kidding me,” he said flatly. “You want to eat sushi off me for our anniversary?” he snorted, long arms folding elegantly over his chest-broadened slightly over time. “That’s the lamest anniversary present ever.”
“Not for me,” Yamamoto hummed, chuckling softly. “Come on, Gokudera! I’ll make the sushi,” he murmured, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Gokudera’s waist. “You just go and take a nice, long bath....” He breathed out against the back of the silver-haired man’s neck, kissing the back of it lightly. “Relax for a bit and wash up... I’ll get everything ready.”
The Italian shivered slightly, sagging back against Yamamoto. “Idiot,” he grumbled. “Fine. As long as you get everything ready.”
---
Gokudera was happy and relaxed by the time he stepped out of the bathroom. Every muscle was relaxed, feeling almost like they had melted underneath his skin. A good soak in a tub of hot water in a quiet, steamy room with only the soft sounds of chopping from the kitchen to accompany him tended to do that. The Italian let out a long, satisfied sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair.
And then noticed the red silk sheet over his bed. And the candles.
“....What the fuck?”
Gokudera glanced around the room, noticing Yamamoto beaming over in the corner with a large, colourful platter of sushi. Reds, pinks, deep greens and stark whites dotted the silver plate in an altogether beautiful display of how truly skilful Takeshi had become at making sushi.
“Lay down,” the dark haired man hummed, walking over to the side of the bed. When Gokudera hesitated, he laughed and said, “I’m not going to bite, Gokudera. Just lie down and relax, okay?”
The silver-haired man frowned slightly and dropped the towel on the floor, carefully crawling onto the bed and laying down on the cool silk. He hissed at the somewhat cold feeling of the fabric against his back, fidgeting as he tried to find a more comfortable position. “Hurry up, Takeshi. This is your present, after all,” he grumbled, feeling almost self-conscious being completely nude and exposed in front of his lover-not that he hadn’t been before, but there was something... unnerving about watching Yamamoto stare like that.
Like he was... hungry.
Yamamoto just smiled and reached forward, long fingers brushing over Gokudera’s pale skin. “I know,” he sighed, plucking a piece of sushi off of the platter.
The bomber closed his eyes and shivered as the cool rice and raw fish was placed against his skin. He lay still as Yamamoto designed the pieces of sushi in intricate patterns, even going as far to add in flowers and flower petals to accent the colours in the sushi pieces.
“Did you study this or something?” Gokudera’s lips quirked upwards at the corners as he held in a snicker.
“Don’t talk!” Yamamoto laughed, putting the final couple of pieces down the other man’s thigh. “And I guess you could say that. I mean... I looked this sort of stuff up and all.” He smiled warmly, grabbing a piece of sushi out of Gokudera’s palm and popping it into his mouth. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, swallowing the rice and fish, leaning down to kiss the silver-haired man.
“Don’t kiss me, idiot,” Gokudera growled. “You taste like fish.”
Yamamoto chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he hummed. He leaned down, lips brushing over milky skin and a sharp collarbone, fingers roaming over patches of free skin that weren’t touched by flowers or fish. “Delicious,” he purred, mouth enclosing over a piece of sushi covering one of Gokudera’s nipples.
“Shit,” the Italian inhaled sharply as Yamamoto started sucking lightly on that nipple, swallowing rice as he went. And, oh fuck, that look.... Takeshi’s eyes were dark and hooded, a sort of heat smouldering in his irises as he stared intently at Gokudera’s face. The silver-haired man had to suppress the urge to squirm as his partner moved over to his other nipple, giving it the same generous treatment as its pair.
Gokudera’s breathing was starting to pick up, body feeling hot already. Yamamoto knew how to push his buttons, coaxing every ounce of arousal out of him from years of practice. He felt the Japanese man’s mouth move lower as slow, open-mouth kisses were being pressed down his chest and stomach, sensually lapping up sushi along the way. He even almost moaned as Yamamoto sucked just above his bellybutton, teeth scraping over his skin.
Yamamoto laughed lightly and looked downward, glancing at Gokudera’s growing erection. “Already, Hayato? I thought you’d at least wait until I was done eating.” He grinned cheekily.
“Shut up,” Gokudera huffed, still trying his hardest not to squirm. “Finish up and then get on with it, moron.”
“You got it,” Yamamoto snickered. He moved his mouth lower, sucking on random patches of skin, leaving dark marks and red spots as he did. The silver-haired man clenched his hands as that mouth purposefully skirted around his hardening cock, nipping at a prominent hipbone instead.
“Shit,” he whispered as he felt a warm tongue slide over his thigh, teeth catching his lip as Takeshi chewed on another piece of sushi.
Gokudera groaned and sat up on his elbows as finally he was free of fish and rice, only a few sticky grains left on his skin. He was slightly flushed and at full hardness, arms and legs stiff from lying still for so goddamn long. “Satisfied, Takeshi?” he growled, hazy eyes narrowing at his smug looking partner.
“Very.” Yamamoto grinned, crawling back up the Italian’s body and looming over him.
“Good. Now come here, idiot,” Gokudera purred, leaning forward slightly and cupping one side of the dark-haired man’s face. His thumb swiped just under Yamamoto’s bottom lip, brushing away a stray grain of rice. “Slob,” he snorted as he kissed Yamamoto hungrily, mouths melding and moving together in a practiced routine. Tongues and lips and saliva mixed and blended into almost one seamless being.
“I love you, Hayato,” Yamamoto whispered against Gokudera’s mouth.
“I love you, too, idiot. Now just do it, for fuck’s sake,” the silver-haired man moaned wantonly, pressing his hips up to grind against Yamamoto’s still-clothed ones.
The swordsman simply laughed and kissed Gokudera again before nodding. He reached into his pants and withdrew a small, new bottle of lube as he wriggled out of his pants completely, kicking them off to the side.
“Going commando?” Gokudera snickered, arching a delicate eyebrow.
“Only for you,” Yamamoto hummed, squirting some clear gel onto his hand and coating his half-hard cock, stroking himself into full hardness. “Ready, Hayato?”
“Just fucking go, idiot.”
Yamamoto rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of Gokudera’s thin hips, raising them up slightly. “Whatever you say,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the silver-haired man’s neck before very slowly and carefully pushing into him.
Gokudera could have choked. The initial stretch of Yamamoto’s dick sliding into him-unprepared-fucking hurt. They had done it this way before, sure, but Gokudera wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to that inital burn of heat inside of him or rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He threw his arms around the dark-haired man’s neck, nails raking down his back.
He felt a pause as Yamamoto’s hips bumped against his and groaned and ground back. Just because it hurt a little didn’t mean he didn’t relish the friction of Yamamoto moving inside of him. “M-move!” he hissed, head tilting to the side as a hot, slick tongue ran over the heated flesh there.
Gokudera loved the feeling of movement just after penetration-hot and steamy and slow; breath mingling as originally suppressed moans bubbled over and tumbled out of their lips. Tongue and lips attaching to whatever skin they could reach, leaving marks and bites and fuck it felt so good....
It was all heat and movement and trying to keep it long and drawn-out that night.
They tried not to rush it, though soon found it difficult as passions mounted to a peak and the animalistic need for release took over. Yamamoto’s hips snapped forward in a rush and a hand groped at Gokudera’s cock, stroking it in quick, jerky motions, thumb pressing into the slit.
“Fuck... Takeshi!” Gokudera croaked, nails digging into Yamamoto’s back as he came into his hand in an explosion of white flashes and a rush of hormones. He whimpered as the black-haired man pulled out quickly and came on one of his thighs-practice from several beatings and being yelled at that coming inside was not sexy.
“Hayato...” Takeshi murmured breathlessly against a pale, now bruised, neck. “You’re amazing,” he laughed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Gokudera grumbled, shoving Yamamoto off to the side before slinging an arm over his waist. The candles were starting to die and the bed was covered in soiled red silk, grains of rice and flower petals, but... it seemed just perfect for the both of them. “Happy anniversary, idiot...."