Work Text:
The wind chime in the eaves quivered as the oncoming rainstorm tossed it with a restless breeze. Its sharp, sweet notes clattered into every corner of the room where Giyuu knelt, legs splayed, his open yukata pooling around his thighs.
He ignored the wind chime’s song, just as he ignored the quiet sounds coming from himself—the sharp huff of his breathing, the slick of damp skin, the tiny moan building at the back of his throat. His eyes were squeezed closed. All of his senses were devoted to constructing the image that played behind his eyelids: Shinazugawa, shirtless, maybe just finishing a sparring session—the muscles of his chest glazed with sweat, heaving as he breathed. The stark scars, so obnoxiously sexy—Giyuu would run his fingertips over them—no, his mouth, tracing them everywhere they ran across Shinazugawa’s skin, collecting the salt on his tongue. Up to the hollow of his throat, then the taut line of his neck, his jaw, and then he’d try his teeth against the spot behind his ear where he imagined it would be so tender, Shinazugawa might moan. God, what would that sound like? And feel like, the timbre of Shinazugawa’s voice vibrating against Giyuu’s lips? His blood flamed hotter at the thought. —Then back across the high arch of his cheekbone, down to his mouth, his lips—and Shinazugawa would kiss him back, would work his tongue into Giyuu’s mouth, sliding wet and hot and insistent, pushing into him like…
Giyuu tightened his grip, sped up his pace and bit down on his lower lip until it ached. He could feel his pulse jumping, his breath catching behind his teeth. He was nearly there, the pleasure swelling heavy and urgent, so close to brimming over. Just a little more… a little harder, a little faster… “Oh,” he breathed, “Shinazugawa…”
“Tomioka!”
Giyuu froze.
“Tomioka, you home?”
Fuck.
Giyuu didn’t understand why Shinazugawa considered himself to have a standing invitation to drop by his house any time he felt like it. He was sure he’d never done anything to initiate this arrangement, although most of the time he didn’t mind the impromptu visits. Now, though… Fuck.
But, god, he was still so close. The need to come felt electric, buzzing through his nerves and vibrating into the roots of his teeth and he had to, he had to. Wildly, he decided that there was enough time to finish and get himself cleaned up before Shinazugawa came barging in. He started stroking himself again, frantic, desperate, cursing through clenched teeth as he chased his release.
He heard the front door slide open as Shinazugawa let himself into the main room of his house. Seriously, who did that?
“Tomioka?” Shinazugawa called again.
Giyuu had to stop. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He moaned queasily as his senses caught up to him and he realized that no matter what happened now, it was too late to get himself presentable. Shinazugawa was going to walk in on him, and then he was going to die of embarrassment.
Shinazugawa’s footsteps paused outside the door. Giyuu wrenched his hand off his dick and tried to get himself tucked back into his fundoshi as Shinazugawa offered the most half-hearted of courtesy taps to the shoji, then immediately slid the door open and poked his head into the room.
Giyuu yanked his hand out of his underwear as Shinazugawa’s eyes widened. “What?” Giyuu demanded, tugging his yukata more-or-less closed.
“Shit—sorry.” Shinazugawa looked away, but Giyuu didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Sorry, I’ll just, uh… I’ll give you a minute.” He disappeared from the doorway, and Giyuu listened to him padding away, although he didn’t hear the sound of him actually going back out through the main door and leaving his house.
Giyuu crumpled, propping his head in his hand. His forehead was sweaty, he could feel his hair sticking to his cheeks and temples in damp strings, and he knew his face must be scarlet. His breath shuddered in his lungs like he’d just spent hours training, or like he was on the verge of breaking down in sobs. And, horribly, he was still half-hard and entertaining the thought of trying to finish even with Shinazugawa loitering a few rooms away, knowing exactly what he was up to.
He squashed the thought down.
His legs shook a little as he pushed himself to his feet and found the obi for his yukata. It took some maneuvering, but he’d learned to get it tied by himself, pinning the end against the wall with his hip as he secured the knot with one hand and then wriggling it into place around his back. By the time he accomplished that, his trembling had subsided a little, but he still felt miserable, unsatisfied and mortified and prickling with shame. The last thing he wanted to do was go out and talk to Shinazugawa. He supposed he could hide in his room until Shinazugawa got bored and left, but if he wanted to reclaim even a tiny shred of dignity, he needed to face him. Giyuu straightened his shoulders, pulled in a deep, steadying inhale, and stepped out of his room.
Shinazugawa suppressed a smirk when he saw Giyuu come into the main room. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said.
“Don’t mention it.” Giyuu refused to meet his eyes, then realized his mistake when Shinazugawa pounced on his obvious embarrassment.
“So,” Shinazugawa leered, “did you manage to finish up? Or did I get in your head too much?”
Giyuu stared at him, horrified. “How did you know I was think–” And then he snapped his jaws shut hard enough to hurt as his brain caught up with his mouth. Fuck, that wasn’t what Shinazugawa meant at all. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Shinazugawa looked stunned. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide, and Giyuu wished he was in the mood to enjoy the rare sight of him rendered speechless. But then, of course, that crooked little smile started up again in the corner of Shinazugawa’s mouth and spread until he was grinning at Giyuu. “Oh?” he said, a dangerous lilt in his voice. “You were thinking about me?”
Giyuu clenched his jaw and looked away.
“Do you always think about me when you touch yourself, Tomioka?"
He could stand here silently forever, Giyuu decided. Eventually Shinazugawa would go away, or maybe Giyuu would just wither into a husk and cease to exist. That seemed like the best possible outcome, at this point.
“Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ red,” Shinazugawa chuckled. “Are you embarrassed?”
Giyuu shot him a glare. “My behavior was extremely inappropriate,” he muttered. “I apologize.”
“It’s okay. Doesn’t bother me.” When Giyuu didn’t respond to that, Shinazugawa leaned a little closer to him and added, “I’m kinda flattered, to be honest.”
He expected Shinazugawa to be disgusted, maybe outraged, scornful at best. He expected him to try to pummel Giyuu into the ground, then storm off, and that would be the end of his unannounced visits. But Shinazugawa’s voice was like a blade with the edge dulled; he didn’t sound upset, or even sarcastic. Disorientation scrambled Giyuu’s brain. “You… what?” he tried.
“Sure.” Shinazugawa shrugged one shoulder, lazily, so easily. “Nice to finally get confirmation that the feeling’s mutual.”
Giyuu felt like the floor and the ceiling had switched places. He stared dizzily into Shinazugawa’s face, trying to figure out if he was fucking with him, not sure whether it would be better or worse if he was.
“I’m saying I’m attracted to you, dumbass. I think about you like that too. Why do you look so damn surprised?”
All Giyuu could do was blink and try to keep his mouth from flopping open.
Shinazugawa took another step closer, so that he was fully in Giyuu’s space. Giyuu could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his breath moving on his skin as he spoke. “Never thought I was being all that subtle, but I guess I overestimated you.” He grinned. “Maybe you need a demonstration, hm? Wanna find out what I’d do to you? I figure it’s the least I can do, after interrupting you like that.”
The logic in that statement, if there was any, was lost on Giyuu. But logic was the least of his concerns right now; he could feel his brain flickering and guttering out like a spent oil lamp as all of his internal resources diverted to the ache still throbbing between his legs. This is crazy, he thought, this can’t be real, and then he stopped thinking. All that he cared about right now was Shinazugawa, inches away from him, the way his voice thrummed in his chest as he told him that he liked him and offered to—to—
“Okay,” Giyuu said. Might as well call Shinazugawa’s bluff, or prod this dream along to the good part, or whatever the hell was happening here.
Shinazugawa’s eyes snapped to his, like he hadn’t expected Giyuu to take him seriously. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit, okay,” Shinazugawa said, his voice catching on something between a laugh and a sigh. And then he slid his arms around Giyuu’s waist and started loosening the knot in his belt.
“Not here,” Giyuu said. He seized Shinazugawa’s wrist and tugged him back to his room.
Briefly he worried that in the few steps it took to get there, Shinazugawa would come to his senses and break free of Giyuu’s grip, or Giyuu would wake up from this bizarre hallucination. But then they were stumbling into his room, and Shinazugawa was crowding him up against the wall, both hands working his obi untied. As Giyuu’s yukata fell open, Shinazugawa’s hands slid up his sides, over his ribs to his chest, then down the slope of his back, then abruptly squeezed his ass so hard Giyuu yelped. His hands were in constant motion, rough and fast and hungry, his fingers leaving tingling trails like electric currents in their wake all across Giyuu’s body. Just this, just the touch of Shinazugawa’s skin against his own, made his breath come faster and turned his thoughts to steam. Giyuu’s head knocked back against the wall, and Shinazugawa took it as an invitation, dipping his own head to Giyuu’s throat. The sting of teeth made Giyuu squirm and dragged a long, embarrassing whine from his mouth. Without thinking, he slung his arm around Shinazugawa’s shoulders, keeping him locked close as he bucked his hips up against him.
One of Shinazugawa’s roving hands circled around to palm him through his fundoshi. Giyuu moaned, pressing up into the touch.
He felt Shinazugawa’s mouth moving against his throat, hot and damp, as he asked, “What do you want, Tomioka?” He gave him a quick squeeze, and Giyuu felt all the strength in his legs melt away; the only thing keeping him upright was the wall behind him and his arm around Shinazugawa.
“What were you imagining me doing to you, huh?” Shinazugawa continued, working his way down Giyuu’s neck, punctuating his words with his teeth. “Were you thinking about my hand on you? My mouth? Or were you imagining me bending you over and fucking you?”
Giyuu’s face burned with embarrassment even as his dick jumped against Shinazugawa’s hand. “Shinazugawa,” he said, the name slipping from his lips like a sigh. “Stop talking. Just touch me.”
Shinazugawa gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Whatever you want.” With a deft tug, he yanked Giyuu’s fundoshi loose. Giyuu made a little protesting sound—that was much harder to deal with than the yukata obi—but Shinazugawa shushed him, his lips against Giyuu’s neck once more. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered. “C’mere.”
He coaxed Giyuu down to the floor, to the futon he hadn’t gotten around to folding away yet, then slipped the yukata off his shoulders. Giyuu leaned back, bare and flushed, his heart pounding in his throat as he watched Shinazugawa’s gaze roam over his entire body. “Gorgeous,” Shinazugawa muttered.
Giyuu hadn’t expected Shinazugawa to be the kind of person to babble nonsense during intimate moments, but that was the only explanation for what he’d just said. There was no way that word could be reasonably applied to Giyuu—not with the puckered pink tissue where the stump of his arm was stitched together, and the muscles going soft with disuse, and the pale scars webbing his torso and legs. His scars weren’t like Shinazugawa’s. Shinazugawa bore his scars as proof of his courage, his brutal willingness to wield his own body as a weapon. Giyuu’s were indelible reminders of failures, of times that he was too inexperienced or too distracted or too tired to anticipate an attack. His mistakes lived forever in his skin and there was nothing admirable about them.
But Shinazugawa was still looking at him like his body was something worthy. His hand reached out, skimmed past where Giyuu’s cock lay leaking onto his stomach, stroked up his breastbone to trace the shape of his chest. Compared to a few moments ago, he was moving languidly, like they’d entered the calm at the eye of a storm. Giyuu shivered, confused. “Shinazugawa…”
“Okay, okay,” Shinazugawa said. “So impatient.”
He straddled Giyuu’s legs, settling heavily on his thighs. Shinazugawa’s eyes glinted beneath half-lowered lids as he grinned and licked his palm. He looked gorgeous and obscene, and Giyuu’s brain was whirling in dizzy circles, still trying to catch up.
And then Shinazugawa’s hand was on his dick and his capacity for thought blazed out.
Shinazugawa didn’t start slow, didn’t ease into it, just grabbed Giyuu and went for it. If he weren’t already so turned on, it probably would have hurt, but Giyuu arched into his brutal pace as if he’d been waiting for it his whole life. He pitched his head back and grabbed at Shinazugawa’s thigh, choking on the groans he tried to stifle. He hadn’t really recovered from getting himself worked up earlier, and he knew he was going to come in a humiliatingly short amount of time like this. The searing coil of pleasure at his core wound tighter with every rough stroke of Shinazugawa’s hand. He felt buffeted, helpless, utterly lost to Shinazugawa’s intensity and he moaned, harsh and desperate.
“Feels good, huh, Tomioka?” Shinazugawa said, his voice strained. Giyuu dared to open his eyes and look up at him, and was startled to see how much this was affecting Shinazugawa—his cheeks were flushed, his mouth ajar, his eyelids heavy and his pupils blown. Giyuu was doing nothing to reciprocate, but Shinazugawa looked like he was the one getting jerked off. And if he looked like that even without being touched...
“Shinazugawa,” Giyuu breathed, “can I...”
“Can you what?”
“Can I—nnngh—can I touch you, too?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Giyuu briefly regretted asking when Shinazugawa released him, leaving him panting at the sudden loss as he sat back to hastily untie his hakama and fundoshi and let them slide down his thighs. Then, before Giyuu could respond, he seized Giyuu’s wrist and guided his hand to his cock. It burned against Giyuu’s palm, hot and rigid. He gave him a tentative stroke, mindful of the friction, and Shinazugawa grunted with frustration.
“Here,” he said, leaning over Giyuu again. He braced himself on one hand, then lowered himself until their hips were pressed together. “Like this.” He circled his hand around both of their dicks, holding them together and locking his fingers over Giyuu’s, guiding him into the wild, sharp rhythm he seemed to favor.
“Oh god,” Giyuu moaned.
“Mm, yeah. That’s it.” Shinazugawa closed his eyes, losing himself to his own pleasure.
It was too much, feeling Shinazugawa’s cock pressed against his own, their fingers tangled together and wet with Giyuu’s precome. To be doing this with Shinazugawa— “Oh god,” he whined again. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please—I—”
“Yeah? Gonna come for me, Tomioka?”
“Fuck—” And he was gone, his vision whiting out as every nerve in his body tensed and sang like a bowstring. He arched off the futon, fighting against Shinazugawa’s weight keeping him pinned, writhing against the force of the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. Shinazugawa kept stroking him through it, letting his release spill over and between his fingers, until Giyuu choked out a sound that was embarrassingly similar to a whimper. Then Shinazugawa let go of him, but grabbed Giyuu’s hand and wrapped his fingers around his cock again.
Both of their hands were slick now with Giyuu’s come, and Giyuu was both gratified and mortified at the way Shinazugawa’s eyes rolled back in his head as they resumed stroking him. Giyuu stared up at him in a daze, letting Shinazugawa use his hand however he needed, his hazy attention catching on details—the flutter of Shinazugawa’s uncannily long eyelashes, the way the muscles in his arm tensed as he moved, the hitch of his breath as he started to thrust into the tight circle of their joined fingers.
“Mm, fuck, I’m close,” Shinazugawa panted. Giyuu watched, fascinated, as his eyes closed and his head tipped forward and a ragged sigh escaped from his mouth. And then he went still, and Giyuu tensed at the hot spatter of come landing on his abdomen and chest.
Shinazugawa sat back, admiring the mess on Giyuu’s front. Giyuu squirmed a little under his stare, and Shinazugawa chuckled, low and raspy at the bottom of his throat. “You look good like that.”
Giyuu huffed, craning his neck to look for the tissues he’d left out earlier. Shinazugawa followed his gaze and reached for them. He wiped his own fingers, then reached for Giyuu’s hand and did the same for him, before passing the rest of the tissues to Giyuu. Neither of them spoke as Giyuu cleaned himself; Giyuu didn’t look up, but he felt Shinazugawa’s eyes watching him, felt the lopsided grin chasing his every movement. Once he was less of a mess, he reached for his discarded yukata and pulled it over his shoulders.
“So…” Shinazugawa drawled. “How’d that compare to what you imagined?”
Giyuu pursed his lips. It was nothing like what he’d imagined—not even in his most absurd fantasies had he dared to conjure up a scenario where Shinazugawa caught him jerking off, then volunteered to help him out. He still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t about to wake up sticky from an extremely vivid dream.
Beyond that… it still wasn’t what he’d imagined. He hadn’t come close to reproducing the electrifying sensation of Shinazugawa’s skin against his own, the heady smell of him. He hadn’t anticipated the weight of Shinazugawa’s shameless gaze on him, admiring him, roving over his naked body like it was something special to behold. He hadn’t imagined how shatteringly good it would feel to have Shinazugawa touch him.
But mainly, what he imagined was… it was tame, compared to what just happened. Sure, he’d thought about—all kinds of things, up to and including what Shinazugawa had suggested earlier, but he didn’t need that to get off. He could get his blood pumping just imagining Shinazugawa’s lips on his, his tongue dipping into his mouth. And he still didn’t know what that was like.
Giyuu looked up, meeting Shinazugawa’s eyes. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”
Shinazugawa blinked, and the flush lingering on his cheeks darkened, just a little. “Uh… sure.”
They sat there for a couple of heartbeats until Giyuu realized he needed to make the first move. Then he leaned forward, and reached out, and brushed his thumb along Shinazugawa’s cheekbone. Shinazugawa’s eyes slipped closed as Giyuu moved closer and pressed his lips to his.
Giyuu started chaste, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to do—he didn’t have a lot of experience with this, and unlike in his imagination, he couldn’t puppet Shinazugawa’s responses along. Then he felt the tip of Shinazugawa’s tongue against his lips, and he gratefully let his mouth slip open, and from there it was like sliding into a current, smooth and easy and irresistible. Giyuu wasn’t sure if it was because Shinazugawa was sated or if this was just the way he kissed, but it was surprisingly subdued. He coaxed Giyuu along, then let him lead for a while, an easy give and take that was more harmonious than anything the two of them had ever done together. Giyuu wanted to keep doing it forever. He felt a shiver of renewed arousal, a glowing ember waiting for the breath to fan it back into a flame.
After a while, Shinzugawa’s fingers carded through the hair framing his face, and then he broke away with a sound so soft and small it startled Giyuu. When Giyuu moved back enough to see Shinazugawa’s face, he was smiling, a gentle, edgeless smile that Giyuu had never seen before.
“...What?”
Instead of answering, Shinazugawa leaned forward again, catching Giyuu’s mouth with his own. Then he shifted, easing Giyuu down to his back, and Giyuu went willingly, melting under him.
Outside, the wind chime shivered and rang as the rain began to fall, pattering against the hydrangea leaves.