[ficlet] Culture Shock (HaruToki3)
Title: Culture Shock
Author: Katty
Fandom: Harukanaru Toki no Naka de 3
Pairing: Masaomi/apron!Kurou
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I didn't put Kurou in the apron thingy (Koei did that all on their own) but if this is what results I can't say I wouldn't do it myself. (Sorry Kurou)
Summary: Jenga penality fic. Masaomi finds himself captivated by Kurou's new clothes.
The very first time that Kurou wore…it, Masaomi nearly bit through his lip trying not to laugh. To this day he still doesn’t know how Nozomi and his little brother kept straight faces as Kurou walked around, grumpy and brandishing his sword this way and that, totally unaware that he was wearing the traditional garb of a well-domesticated housewife. Masaomi was, as a result, less than useless for nearly the entire day, especially when Kurou started talking to him. Masaomi couldn’t make out a single word the other Hachiyou was saying over his mental snickering.
The second time Kurou wore it, Masaomi realized that he shouldn’t judge. He was using standards of manly and unmanly dress that were completely foreign to the people here. He was judging things by conventions that didn’t match the perspectives of the culture he was immersed in. Nozomi and his brother weren’t reacting to Kurou’s sudden wardrobe change and they were only months removed from the modern world as opposed to his years.
That didn’t work to make it any less funny.
By the third time he saw Kurou wearing it the novelty had worn off. It just wasn’t funny anymore; a joke that he’d already heard too many times. He apologized to his friend for acting weird and ignoring him lately.
Kurou just blinked and asked Masaomi very slowly what on earth he was talking about as though he’d gone crazy. Masaomi looked away sheepishly, as he scratched the back of his neck and told Kurou just to forget about it then.
That night Masaomi lay awake for a long time, the image of Kurou’s confused pout the only thing he could picture.
That night he dreamed of Kurou wearing an apron
...and nothing but an apron.
He’d been sitting in the kitchen of his house back in his world only he was sitting at a table like the one at Kagetoki and Saku’s house. That was weird, but not as weird as that long expanse of bare back that he kept glimpsing through that distinctive fall of orange hair as Kurou did the dishes. Kurou kept shouting over his shoulder, trying to goad Masaomi into drying, but Masaomi barely noticed.
He was way too busy taking in the view.
About the time that Masaomi felt his eyes fix on that smooth, pert bottom that kept peeking out from beneath orange locks as Kurou swayed, he realized that his pants were starting to pull rather tightly in a very telling way. His dream logic reasoned hazily that what the growing tent in his pants needed was a good long grope and started moving his hand in steady beats that quickly fell in time with Kurou’s moments.
Suddenly Masaomi’s mouth was tracing moist patterns up the side of Kurou’s neck as he pressed his growing need against that bare flesh laid out before him like a feast.
What little remained of Masaomi’s conscious thoughts expected Kurou to turn on his heel and threaten to cleave Masaomi’s most important tender bits from his body with a very pointy sword.
He was much happier when this dream Kurou threw his head back, exposing his throat to Masaomi’s mouth and moaning in appreciation as he wiggled suggestively. The rhythm of Masaomi’s hips suddenly gained purpose and he growled against the pale skin of Kurou’s neck. The sound of his name gasped in surprised desire was enough to shock Masaomi from his dream.
He stared at the ceiling above blankly for a few moments, uncomprehending, before he kicked away his futon cover and finished himself off with efficient strokes. Even without an ounce of finesse in his technique he gasped and groaned as he came, his mind replaying the images from his dream with startling clarity.
Masaomi was very glad when Kurou’s dress returned to normal as he didn’t trust himself not to do something rash. This Kurou would undoubtedly have a sword and be more than willing to give Masaomi a very personal demonstration of his skill if so provoked. Few things in his life ever worked out for Masaomi so he had no doubt that Kurou would be wearing his new clothes again before long.
But when he saw it again at least he wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself by laughing.
Author: Katty
Fandom: Harukanaru Toki no Naka de 3
Pairing: Masaomi/apron!Kurou
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I didn't put Kurou in the apron thingy (Koei did that all on their own) but if this is what results I can't say I wouldn't do it myself. (Sorry Kurou)
Summary: Jenga penality fic. Masaomi finds himself captivated by Kurou's new clothes.
The very first time that Kurou wore…it, Masaomi nearly bit through his lip trying not to laugh. To this day he still doesn’t know how Nozomi and his little brother kept straight faces as Kurou walked around, grumpy and brandishing his sword this way and that, totally unaware that he was wearing the traditional garb of a well-domesticated housewife. Masaomi was, as a result, less than useless for nearly the entire day, especially when Kurou started talking to him. Masaomi couldn’t make out a single word the other Hachiyou was saying over his mental snickering.
The second time Kurou wore it, Masaomi realized that he shouldn’t judge. He was using standards of manly and unmanly dress that were completely foreign to the people here. He was judging things by conventions that didn’t match the perspectives of the culture he was immersed in. Nozomi and his brother weren’t reacting to Kurou’s sudden wardrobe change and they were only months removed from the modern world as opposed to his years.
That didn’t work to make it any less funny.
By the third time he saw Kurou wearing it the novelty had worn off. It just wasn’t funny anymore; a joke that he’d already heard too many times. He apologized to his friend for acting weird and ignoring him lately.
Kurou just blinked and asked Masaomi very slowly what on earth he was talking about as though he’d gone crazy. Masaomi looked away sheepishly, as he scratched the back of his neck and told Kurou just to forget about it then.
That night Masaomi lay awake for a long time, the image of Kurou’s confused pout the only thing he could picture.
That night he dreamed of Kurou wearing an apron
...and nothing but an apron.
He’d been sitting in the kitchen of his house back in his world only he was sitting at a table like the one at Kagetoki and Saku’s house. That was weird, but not as weird as that long expanse of bare back that he kept glimpsing through that distinctive fall of orange hair as Kurou did the dishes. Kurou kept shouting over his shoulder, trying to goad Masaomi into drying, but Masaomi barely noticed.
He was way too busy taking in the view.
About the time that Masaomi felt his eyes fix on that smooth, pert bottom that kept peeking out from beneath orange locks as Kurou swayed, he realized that his pants were starting to pull rather tightly in a very telling way. His dream logic reasoned hazily that what the growing tent in his pants needed was a good long grope and started moving his hand in steady beats that quickly fell in time with Kurou’s moments.
Suddenly Masaomi’s mouth was tracing moist patterns up the side of Kurou’s neck as he pressed his growing need against that bare flesh laid out before him like a feast.
What little remained of Masaomi’s conscious thoughts expected Kurou to turn on his heel and threaten to cleave Masaomi’s most important tender bits from his body with a very pointy sword.
He was much happier when this dream Kurou threw his head back, exposing his throat to Masaomi’s mouth and moaning in appreciation as he wiggled suggestively. The rhythm of Masaomi’s hips suddenly gained purpose and he growled against the pale skin of Kurou’s neck. The sound of his name gasped in surprised desire was enough to shock Masaomi from his dream.
He stared at the ceiling above blankly for a few moments, uncomprehending, before he kicked away his futon cover and finished himself off with efficient strokes. Even without an ounce of finesse in his technique he gasped and groaned as he came, his mind replaying the images from his dream with startling clarity.
Masaomi was very glad when Kurou’s dress returned to normal as he didn’t trust himself not to do something rash. This Kurou would undoubtedly have a sword and be more than willing to give Masaomi a very personal demonstration of his skill if so provoked. Few things in his life ever worked out for Masaomi so he had no doubt that Kurou would be wearing his new clothes again before long.
But when he saw it again at least he wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself by laughing.