Actions

Work Header

Operant Conditioning

Work Text:

Yamamoto Takeshi was by nature friendly, amiable even, gregarious, and outgoing, with good manners ingrained in him by his father and his culture. He had a knack, therefore, of being able to get along with nearly anyone, which was sometimes entertaining and other times just baffling. Here Hayato thought of the time he'd caught Takeshi deep in conversation with Kneecaps Tony, so called because that was what he went for first every time, comparing the merits of various alternatives to firearms. "We were just talking," Takeshi had said about that. Hayato had despaired of getting Takeshi to understand how weird that was, since Kneecaps Tony was known for being a ruthless enforcer and for rarely speaking. But that was Takeshi: Hayato was convinced that he'd talk to the walls if there were no better option available.

The other thing about Takeshi was that he was good-looking. Hell, they all were, in their own ways—even that idiot Ryouhei, and the cow, too, now that he was growing out of the dribbly, whiny years. But Takeshi was especially so: tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, and generally smiling. Hayato didn't suppose that was all his own biases talking, either. People flocked to Takeshi, and by people Hayato meant women, mostly, though there were always a few hopeful men ready to try their luck, too. It made Hayato a little crazy, actually, which was nothing new (Takeshi had been making him a little crazy ever since they'd met). He knew that Takeshi wouldn't dream of being unfaithful—he took his commitments very seriously—but Takeshi was also apparently congenitally incapable of giving someone a meaningful brush-off and always tried to let people down easily.

And no few of Takeshi's admirers seemed to hope that they might be the ones to turn Takeshi's interest their way, the scheming, treacherous vultures.

It wouldn't be so bad, Hayato thought, glancing across the room to where Takeshi was at the heart of a circle of women and laughing at something, if only Takeshi didn't seem to just like people so much. But that was Takeshi and he wasn't going to change any time soon.

Hayato watched Nicoletta Caraceni lay her hand on Takeshi's arm, leaning against him and gazing up at him with what were probably limpid eyes. That brought the evening's tally up to three. Takeshi gave her a moment before disengaging himself casually. Hayato snorted and turned his attention back to talking with Rocco Caraceni about the trading partnership he kept pitching at the Vongola, since business, of necessity, came first before anything else.

His tally of the evening's various attempts to get Takeshi into bed (generally in pursuit of getting the Vongola into bed) was up to seven by the time the reception had wound to a close and they had seen the Caraceni off. The true count might have been even higher, though it was pointless to ask Takeshi about it. Hayato still hadn't decided whether that was because Takeshi really didn't keep track or because he was trying to downplay it. Either way, Hayato didn't bother asking, even after they'd made their way back to their rooms, Takeshi already shedding clothes.

He was more interested in the practical results of all that flirting, anyway. "Get anything useful out of them?"

Takeshi frowned, eyes going distant as he dropped his jacket on the couch. "They really want this. I don't think it's just about the trade. I think they have to have it, however they can get it." He tugged his tie loose as Hayato nodded; that squared with what he'd thought himself. Then Takeshi added, "They had some really weird ideas about how to get me into bed, too."

"Did they." Hayato knew damn well that Takeshi enjoyed teasing him sometimes, that he liked the way he could make Hayato growl, but that still didn't stop him from rising to the bait every damn time.

"Yeah." Takeshi looked lost in a reverie for a moment. Then he shook it off, no other details forthcoming. "I dunno if it's good that they want it so much. Seems like a bad sign to me."

"Me too." Hayato made a mental note to bring it up with the Tenth in the morning. But—in the morning. For now... "So they had strange ideas about how to get you into bed?"

Takeshi came back from wherever his thoughts had gone and laughed, sheepish, as Hayato advanced on him. "Yeah, I guess. I don't where they got the idea that I was that kind of boy, to be honest."

"Bullshit." Hayato hooked a finger in Takeshi's belt and used it to tow him towards their bedroom. "You're a fucking tease and you know it."

Takeshi laughed, protesting, even as he let Hayato draw him along. "I am not!"

"You are so," Hayato said, determined not to let him wriggle away from the point. "You smile and flirt and let them flirt back, and then you come home with me. You're a tease."

"I can't help it if some people don't learn," Takeshi pointed out, smiling as Hayato turned loose of his belt and started in on his shirt, tugging it out of his waistband and undoing the buttons. "You'd think people would know better by now."

"They live in hope, I guess." Hayato pushed the shirt off Takeshi's shoulders; Takeshi shook it free of his wrists. His slacks were riding low on his hips; the overall effect was a good one on him—it highlighted all the muscles that his suits generally camouflaged. Takeshi let him look, smiling. Hayato snorted; one of them had learned something, anyway, though he didn't care to speculate which one of them it was. "Anyway."

"Anyway?" Takeshi stepped closer, raising his hands and sliding them under the jacket Hayato hadn't yet shed. Hayato didn't bother answering, though he pulled Takeshi's chin down to his, satisfying one of the urges he'd had since the first of the Caraceni's women had started circling Takeshi at the start of the evening. Takeshi made a pleased sound against his lips, opening his mouth to Hayato's. Hayato pressed his advantage, tasting the corners of it and running his hands up and down Takeshi's bare arms. Takeshi sighed when Hayato pulled away from him, and gave him a transparently hopeful look. "Bed?"

"Don't be stupid." Hayato busied himself with divesting himself of his clothes. "Yes, of course, bed." He snorted. "Remember what I said about rug burn?"

"'Never again,'" Takeshi quoted. He was grinning. "I still say it was worth it."

"You," Hayato said, undoing his cuffs and dropping the cufflinks in their bowl on the dresser, "only had it on your knees." That had been a truly uncomfortable few days. He shook his head, stripping out of his shirt and slacks, and glanced at Takeshi, who was still standing there, only half-undressed, eyes following his every move. "Takeshi. Get naked."

He saw the muscles move in Takeshi's throat as he swallowed. "Yeah. Okay."

That was a lot better, Hayato decided as Takeshi's hands flew to his belt and slacks and he began peeling himself out of the rest of his clothes with commendable speed. He finished shedding his own underthings and returned to Takeshi to plant his hands in the center of Takeshi's chest and push him backwards towards their bed. Takeshi made a sound, something low in his throat, and let himself be pushed until his knees hit the bed and he sat down. He looked up at Hayato, eyes gone dark, and set his hands on Hayato's hips as he leaned forward to run his mouth along Hayato's stomach. His tongue was soft; it dragged heat after it that made Hayato groan and drop a hand into Takeshi's hair, playing with it. Takeshi bent his head lower under the weight of his hand, finding Hayato's cock and running his tongue over the head. Hayato groaned again and rested his other hand on Takeshi's shoulder, holding it for balance. "Takeshi..."

Takeshi took that for direction; he closed his mouth around Hayato and sucked, sliding his tongue back and forth. Hayato shuddered at the softness of that touch and the heat that it dragged up his spine. Takeshi hummed to him, head bobbing under Hayato's fingers, and spread his knees wider as he drew Hayato closer. Hayato considered the invitation for a moment, letting his hips flex the way Takeshi's hands were coaxing them to, letting his cock sink deeper into the willing heat of Takeshi's mouth, but as good as that was...

He pulled back, sighing as his cock slid free of Takeshi's lips. Takeshi made a disappointed sound. "No?"

"Not tonight." Hayato ran his fingers along Takeshi's jaw and rubbed his thumb along the damp curve of his lower lip. "Something else instead."

Takeshi's eyes went hot, understanding; he let Hayato press him down, reaching up to draw Hayato after him. Hayato sighed with the way Takeshi's hands moved over his body and found his mouth again, open and willing under his. That was good; Hayato spent some time kissing Takeshi, savoring the texture of his mouth and the enthusiastic way Takeshi kissed back. Takeshi stretched under him, warm skin sleek under Hayato's searching palms, and that was good, too. He murmured contented sounds against Hayato's mouth as Hayato ran his hands over the solid muscles of his chest and shoulders, mapping out the shape of them and reminding himself of their texture, and he sighed something breathless when Hayato traced his fingers down the line of his cock. He spread his legs against the bed, lifting his hips into Hayato's hand. "Please?" he breathed as Hayato touched him slowly, running his fingers back and forth. Then he whined when Hayato took his hand away. "Hey..."

"Pushy," Hayato told him, groping for the bottle that lived on the bedside table and slicking his fingers with its contents. "Hang on." He lifted his head to watch Takeshi as he reached under him; he liked to watch Takeshi when they were like this. Takeshi's lips parted and his eyes closed as Hayato worked his fingers into him, stroking them against tight muscles and coaxing them loose. Takeshi's expressions were even more mobile in bed; every shift of Hayato's fingers reflected on his face. Hayato liked to watch the way pleasure flickered over Takeshi's face as he opened him up, the way Takeshi's lashes fluttered over his eyes as his color deepened, the shapes his lips made as he sighed. Hayato pressed another finger into Takeshi and he groaned, reaching a hand up and fisting it in his pillow. "Good?" Hayato asked, pressing his fingers deep and twisting them as Takeshi groaned again.

"God, yes..." Takeshi opened his eyes again and looked up at Hayato, pleading. "C'mon," he said, soft. "Now, please?" Hayato curled his fingers and Takeshi gasped, hips bucking. "Hayato."

"Yeah." Hayato reached for the lube again and pressed his mouth against Takeshi's, swift, as he slicked his fingers over himself. Takeshi reached up to sink his fingers into his hair, holding him in that kiss for an extra heartbeat, then two, before letting him go. Hayato raised an eyebrow at him, but Takeshi just smiled. But then, Takeshi had his own reasons for doing a lot of things, reasons that Hayato suspected he was never going to fathom. That wasn't important just now, though—it was far more important to slide his hands down Takeshi's thighs and hook them behind his knees, spreading him wide.

Takeshi groaned beneath him as Hayato paused to look at him. "Please," he said, looking up at Hayato, entreating. "Please, I've been waiting all night..."

"And that's why you're a flirt." Hayato pushed into him, one long smooth thrust, before Takeshi could answer. They both groaned, Hayato panting with the heat of Takeshi around him and Takeshi arched under him, head falling back against the pillow. Hayato held himself poised over Takeshi, watching him, till Takeshi opened his eyes, giving him a hazy look, and rolled his hips up against Hayato's. Hayato groaned at the way that felt and surged against Takeshi, fucking him with deep, hard strokes that made Takeshi gasp. He reached over his head and gripped the headboard, muscles flexing in his arms. Hayato watched him, enjoying the way each shift of his hips made Takeshi gasp. "You know I thought about this all night," he said, leaning over Takeshi and hitching his hips higher. Takeshi groaned. "I did. Even when I was talking to Caraceni, part of me was thinking about taking you to bed and reminding you where you belong."

Takeshi groaned again, back arching off the bed and his body wringing down on Hayato's as he came hard. His pleasure swept his expression clean and open; Hayato panted, watching him, and let his hips snap against Takeshi fast and hard in response. Then Takeshi opened his eyes and smiled at Hayato, slow and a little dazed. "I never forget," he murmured, lifting a hand and touching Hayato's cheek.

Hayato turned his face into that soft touch and let the heat take him, groaning against Takeshi's fingers as pleasure rushed through him and turned him inside out. Takeshi caught him when Hayato sagged over him and twined his arms around him, pulling him close. "Really like the reminder, though," he added presently. Hayato didn't have to be looking at him to know how he was smiling. "You know. Just in case you were wondering."

Hayato snorted. "I wasn't, really. Seemed pretty self-evident."

Takeshi shook under him, laughing. "Well. Yeah, I guess it kind of does, huh?" He wound his fingers in Hayato's hair. "Still. Thought I should say."

Takeshi put everything into words sooner or later, so Hayato let that pass unremarked. He reached for the tissues instead and then got himself resettled with Takeshi, making himself comfortable against his chest. Takeshi watched him do it, eyes curiously soft; Hayato finally raised his eyebrows at him. "What?"

Takeshi smiled. "Nothing. I just love you, is all."

"Sap," Hayato told him; it only made Takeshi smile harder. "Well, you are."

"So what does that make you for putting up with me?" Takeshi inquired, pulling him close.

"A sucker, I think." Hayato reflected on that as Takeshi wound his arms around him. Honesty compelled him to add, "A happy one, maybe."

Takeshi's chuckle was nearly soundless. "Guess that's the important part."

"Yeah," Hayato said, before he kissed Takeshi again, "I guess it is."