[Fic] Nevermind (for starianprincess)
Title: Nevermind
Author: tifarette
Recipient: starianprincess
Pairing: Hiyoshi/Gakuto
Rating: R
Summary: Gakuto seeks refuge at a friend's house after having another fight with his father.
Notes: The characters took this a different direction but I hope you enjoy it~
Gakuto's footsteps were a rhythm of tap, creak, tap, creak against the old wooden floorboards of the Hiyoshi family home. With every step the house seemed to get deeper and deeper; any sound louder than the creak of the floorboards was swallowed up by the never-ending wooden walls.
"Hiyoshi?" Gakuto called; his voice, too, drowned out. But it wasn't because of the walls this time, it was the rumble of thunder that sent a chill up his spine.
"Mukahi-san."
Gakuto jumped; and as with all his jumps, he did so over a good foot off the ground. When did Hiyoshi get behind him, and since when did his footsteps creak?
"Why are you wet?" Gakuto asked, turning around to see that dark blonde hair even darker as it matted against Hiyoshi's head; losing it's near trademark mushroom shape.
Hiyoshi pointed at the wall with a round window set in it. "Rain." he replied simply.
The air outside took a moment to flash, and Gakuto's eyes darted up in worry, knowing the thunder would soon accompany it.
"Why are you here?" Hiyoshi questioned as he walked past Gakuto, heading down the hallway. His footsteps didn't creak like Gakuto's, instead they left a quiet thud in their wake. Gakuto glared at Hiyoshi's slippered feet. Gakuto was the lighter of them, so why were Hiyoshi's footfalls so much softer?
He didn't feel he had to answer the question. It wasn't the first time he had been to the Hiyoshi residence for the night, and wouldn't be the last. Not as long as he and his father lived under the same roof.
The thunder came as promised, seeming to thud against the beating of Gakuto's heart as he followed after Hiyoshi into his room. His favorite spot on the floor was waiting for him; nestled between the end of the bed and the wall.
He didn't get that far this time though. Instead, Hiyoshi's hand-- cold, and wet too-- clamped around Gakuto's wrist, tugging him until he stumbled into that sturdy chest. The yukata was surprisingly warm in comparison to the drops of water on Gakuto's shoulder, falling from Hiyoshi's hair.
"Hiyoshi?" Gakuto murmured again, not having to call into the empty house this time. He tried to step back, pull away in confusion, but Hiyoshi held his wrist tight.
"Why are you here?" Hiyoshi repeated. From up close his eyes were intense-- maybe not as lively as Gakuto's, but with a life that seemed to flow up from the ground beneath the floorboards. Solid. And demanding.
Gakuto huffed. Hiyoshi was not as stupid as Gakuto sometimes accused, and he didn't see why he had to answer him when he already knew. "Because that asshole thinks that-"
But Gakuto's oncoming tirade was cut off by a hand over his mouth and a firm, "No." Automatically Gakuto stepped back, jerked away from that palm over his mouth that smelled of bamboo. Bamboo and dirt.
Hiyoshi was fast, though. Before Gakuto even had a chance to lick his lips he was shoved back against the wall, a splinter poking lightly under his shoulder blade. There was that warm yukata again, but this time instead of pressing against Gakuto's cheek it was against his chest. His thigh, too, though the warmth took longer to seep into his jeans. "Why are you here?"
Those words, falling on Gakuto's ears the third time almost made him growl in annoyance. Why did he have to explain himself to Hiyoshi? Hiyoshi who was busy trying to dig through his skull with his eyes. Gakuto tried to take in a breath, surprised to find it shaking through his chest; his body reacting faster than his mind.
Especially to the way Hiyoshi leaned in, and his breath brushed across Gakuto's lips, which were already parted in an answer he didn't have. "Does it matter?" he asked. Gakuto's free hand shook as it reached up to brush the wet hair from where it clung to Hiyoshi's face.
But before he could even reach Hiyoshi's cheek, that breath was suddenly so much closer. So much that it was between his lips, accompanied by the slide of warm, soft skin. Hiyoshi's lip caught in Gakuto's, sticking against the wet skin on the inside of his lip, but only for a moment, because then those lips were pulling away, only to return again, and again, slowly at different angles until Gakuto was whimpering and chasing after their retreat.
Gakuto's fingers clung to the side of Hiyoshi's neck, and Hiyoshi's fingers pressed into the side of his thigh, sliding up, up until the cold digits were warming themselves on the skin of Gakuto's stomach. "Hiyosh-"
It was a curious murmur, cut off by a much firmer kiss. This time when Hiyoshi's lip caught it stayed, accompanied by a tongue much wetter than the water running over his fingers from that hair, and much hotter.
Gakuto was pressed up against the wall even harder and the thigh between his legs kept him from moving forward even if he wanted to. Why was he here? Was it for the tongue sliding along the roof of his mouth, tangling with his own? Or because despite making little sound but the panting of breaths and ruffling of clothing as Gakuto's shirt fell to the floor, Hiyoshi was drowning out the thunder in the air, and the rumbling of his father's voice, always pounding in his head.
A press of teeth against his neck had Gakuto swallowing, as did the way the soft grey yukata fell open when Gakuto tugged at the belt. When they slid to the floor, Gakuto tried to keep quiet, but with each shift of Hiyoshi's hands and mouth against his bare skin; memorizing, marking, a new whimper broke the air, a new gasp.
And then a moan, Gakuto's back arching, his head pressing against the soft wood of the wall. The whole room smelled of it; the musk of old wood. Just like Hiyoshi's hands held the musk of bamboo, and now, Gakuto's cock.
His own hands roamed as Hiyoshi's stroked over him, drawing out groans from behind his bitten lips. Each bump of muscle or bone under the skin seemed to hold power; the promise that it could break Gakuto into a million little pieces, or protect him from everything that tried.
"Please," Gakuto moaned, his hips jerking now; the ass of his jeans rubbing down against Hiyoshi's bare lap.
"Why?" came that word again. Hiyoshi watched him. Each movement of Gakuto's eyes, each parting of his lips. They were all tracked by that sturdy stare, and suddenly Gakuto felt vulnerable and open, afraid of what Hiyoshi could see. He tried to back up and close off, squirm away from the grasp on his hip and the hand in his pants.
But the grip held him tighter, and Hiyoshi's hand sped up, each tennis callous dragging against sensitive skin, coaxing that pleasure to flow through his veins, threatening to spill over.
"I need you," Gakuto whispered. It was an admission and plea, something he would have never said if not flushed and hot and tense from sensation. But it was true, and Gakuto was freed from that demanding stare in favor of a rush of lips that claimed and devoured his own.
And then that damn broke inside him. Gakuto's arms wound around Hiyoshi and held him tightly while his tongue stilled in a scream against Hiyoshi's lips. White-hot pleasure seared into his skin and much deeper inside, to a place that could only be described as right.
Gakuto shuddered against that warm chest; let himself fall against it as he gasped for breath, limbs limp. He didn't protest when Hiyoshi lifted him, and tucked him into his favorite spot on the floor. With his knees tucked up to his chest, and a blanket around his shoulders, all Gakuto had left to do was lean against the wall and listen to the patter of rain on the other side.
"Hiyoshi?" he mumbled softly, watching the last few drops of water that clung to the ends of Hiyoshi's hair. The only reply he got was a soft hum of questioning.
He wanted to tell Hiyoshi to forget about it. Never mention what was said again. Maybe he just said it to make sure Hiyoshi didn't stop. But instead Gakuto let his head fall between his kness and his eyes drift shut. "Nevermind."
Author: tifarette
Recipient: starianprincess
Pairing: Hiyoshi/Gakuto
Rating: R
Summary: Gakuto seeks refuge at a friend's house after having another fight with his father.
Notes: The characters took this a different direction but I hope you enjoy it~
Gakuto's footsteps were a rhythm of tap, creak, tap, creak against the old wooden floorboards of the Hiyoshi family home. With every step the house seemed to get deeper and deeper; any sound louder than the creak of the floorboards was swallowed up by the never-ending wooden walls.
"Hiyoshi?" Gakuto called; his voice, too, drowned out. But it wasn't because of the walls this time, it was the rumble of thunder that sent a chill up his spine.
"Mukahi-san."
Gakuto jumped; and as with all his jumps, he did so over a good foot off the ground. When did Hiyoshi get behind him, and since when did his footsteps creak?
"Why are you wet?" Gakuto asked, turning around to see that dark blonde hair even darker as it matted against Hiyoshi's head; losing it's near trademark mushroom shape.
Hiyoshi pointed at the wall with a round window set in it. "Rain." he replied simply.
The air outside took a moment to flash, and Gakuto's eyes darted up in worry, knowing the thunder would soon accompany it.
"Why are you here?" Hiyoshi questioned as he walked past Gakuto, heading down the hallway. His footsteps didn't creak like Gakuto's, instead they left a quiet thud in their wake. Gakuto glared at Hiyoshi's slippered feet. Gakuto was the lighter of them, so why were Hiyoshi's footfalls so much softer?
He didn't feel he had to answer the question. It wasn't the first time he had been to the Hiyoshi residence for the night, and wouldn't be the last. Not as long as he and his father lived under the same roof.
The thunder came as promised, seeming to thud against the beating of Gakuto's heart as he followed after Hiyoshi into his room. His favorite spot on the floor was waiting for him; nestled between the end of the bed and the wall.
He didn't get that far this time though. Instead, Hiyoshi's hand-- cold, and wet too-- clamped around Gakuto's wrist, tugging him until he stumbled into that sturdy chest. The yukata was surprisingly warm in comparison to the drops of water on Gakuto's shoulder, falling from Hiyoshi's hair.
"Hiyoshi?" Gakuto murmured again, not having to call into the empty house this time. He tried to step back, pull away in confusion, but Hiyoshi held his wrist tight.
"Why are you here?" Hiyoshi repeated. From up close his eyes were intense-- maybe not as lively as Gakuto's, but with a life that seemed to flow up from the ground beneath the floorboards. Solid. And demanding.
Gakuto huffed. Hiyoshi was not as stupid as Gakuto sometimes accused, and he didn't see why he had to answer him when he already knew. "Because that asshole thinks that-"
But Gakuto's oncoming tirade was cut off by a hand over his mouth and a firm, "No." Automatically Gakuto stepped back, jerked away from that palm over his mouth that smelled of bamboo. Bamboo and dirt.
Hiyoshi was fast, though. Before Gakuto even had a chance to lick his lips he was shoved back against the wall, a splinter poking lightly under his shoulder blade. There was that warm yukata again, but this time instead of pressing against Gakuto's cheek it was against his chest. His thigh, too, though the warmth took longer to seep into his jeans. "Why are you here?"
Those words, falling on Gakuto's ears the third time almost made him growl in annoyance. Why did he have to explain himself to Hiyoshi? Hiyoshi who was busy trying to dig through his skull with his eyes. Gakuto tried to take in a breath, surprised to find it shaking through his chest; his body reacting faster than his mind.
Especially to the way Hiyoshi leaned in, and his breath brushed across Gakuto's lips, which were already parted in an answer he didn't have. "Does it matter?" he asked. Gakuto's free hand shook as it reached up to brush the wet hair from where it clung to Hiyoshi's face.
But before he could even reach Hiyoshi's cheek, that breath was suddenly so much closer. So much that it was between his lips, accompanied by the slide of warm, soft skin. Hiyoshi's lip caught in Gakuto's, sticking against the wet skin on the inside of his lip, but only for a moment, because then those lips were pulling away, only to return again, and again, slowly at different angles until Gakuto was whimpering and chasing after their retreat.
Gakuto's fingers clung to the side of Hiyoshi's neck, and Hiyoshi's fingers pressed into the side of his thigh, sliding up, up until the cold digits were warming themselves on the skin of Gakuto's stomach. "Hiyosh-"
It was a curious murmur, cut off by a much firmer kiss. This time when Hiyoshi's lip caught it stayed, accompanied by a tongue much wetter than the water running over his fingers from that hair, and much hotter.
Gakuto was pressed up against the wall even harder and the thigh between his legs kept him from moving forward even if he wanted to. Why was he here? Was it for the tongue sliding along the roof of his mouth, tangling with his own? Or because despite making little sound but the panting of breaths and ruffling of clothing as Gakuto's shirt fell to the floor, Hiyoshi was drowning out the thunder in the air, and the rumbling of his father's voice, always pounding in his head.
A press of teeth against his neck had Gakuto swallowing, as did the way the soft grey yukata fell open when Gakuto tugged at the belt. When they slid to the floor, Gakuto tried to keep quiet, but with each shift of Hiyoshi's hands and mouth against his bare skin; memorizing, marking, a new whimper broke the air, a new gasp.
And then a moan, Gakuto's back arching, his head pressing against the soft wood of the wall. The whole room smelled of it; the musk of old wood. Just like Hiyoshi's hands held the musk of bamboo, and now, Gakuto's cock.
His own hands roamed as Hiyoshi's stroked over him, drawing out groans from behind his bitten lips. Each bump of muscle or bone under the skin seemed to hold power; the promise that it could break Gakuto into a million little pieces, or protect him from everything that tried.
"Please," Gakuto moaned, his hips jerking now; the ass of his jeans rubbing down against Hiyoshi's bare lap.
"Why?" came that word again. Hiyoshi watched him. Each movement of Gakuto's eyes, each parting of his lips. They were all tracked by that sturdy stare, and suddenly Gakuto felt vulnerable and open, afraid of what Hiyoshi could see. He tried to back up and close off, squirm away from the grasp on his hip and the hand in his pants.
But the grip held him tighter, and Hiyoshi's hand sped up, each tennis callous dragging against sensitive skin, coaxing that pleasure to flow through his veins, threatening to spill over.
"I need you," Gakuto whispered. It was an admission and plea, something he would have never said if not flushed and hot and tense from sensation. But it was true, and Gakuto was freed from that demanding stare in favor of a rush of lips that claimed and devoured his own.
And then that damn broke inside him. Gakuto's arms wound around Hiyoshi and held him tightly while his tongue stilled in a scream against Hiyoshi's lips. White-hot pleasure seared into his skin and much deeper inside, to a place that could only be described as right.
Gakuto shuddered against that warm chest; let himself fall against it as he gasped for breath, limbs limp. He didn't protest when Hiyoshi lifted him, and tucked him into his favorite spot on the floor. With his knees tucked up to his chest, and a blanket around his shoulders, all Gakuto had left to do was lean against the wall and listen to the patter of rain on the other side.
"Hiyoshi?" he mumbled softly, watching the last few drops of water that clung to the ends of Hiyoshi's hair. The only reply he got was a soft hum of questioning.
He wanted to tell Hiyoshi to forget about it. Never mention what was said again. Maybe he just said it to make sure Hiyoshi didn't stop. But instead Gakuto let his head fall between his kness and his eyes drift shut. "Nevermind."