A/N: Happy Birthday Gokudera!! So this is my birthday tribute to Gokudera. Hope he enjoys it! (Although he'll probably bomb me into pieces for writing yaoi.)

And in case you have not read, this is going to be yaoi/lemon/M18 stuff, no more foot massages or ball games, so if you're under 18 or do not wish to see this please leave right away! (But then again, I'm 16. Oops.) You have been warned and I shall not be resposible for any dislodgements of the eyeballs from their sockets or foaming at the mouth.

So, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR
Otherwise Gokudera will be the main character. Bwahaha.

He flips open his cellphone for the last time. The empty screen stares right back at him. Gokudera hisses, smacks the phone close and slides it into his pocket. Unwillingly, he tears his bag away from the desktop, rams in his chair, and saunters out of the empty classroom.

Outside the school, it rains. The rain pellets fall impatiently, and bounce off any surface they collide with. The sounds of the collisions are so loud, it is almost deafening. Gokudera hurriedly slips into his shoes, curses a few times, and lugs his school bag over his head. He storms into the veils of rain.

Rain. He hates it. It's always the rain which spoils everything. Its greyish and monotonous settings only bring melancholy to whoever it embraces. But more importantly, to be trapped within the vast outreach of the rain, it reminds him of his solitude.

Today is his birthday. This is supposed to be the happiest birthday he should have in his life. His sixteenth birthday, a turning point in every teenager's life. Of course, it is only one of the useless rituals people follow, he is not interested as far as he is concerned. No, it's not the birthday he cares about.

It's his friends. Jyuudaime, the lawnhead, the idiot cow, I-Pin, Reborn, the idiot woman and Sasagawa, his sister, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Jyuudaime's mother. Those are the people who remember his birthday, who want to commemorate the day he was born and brought into this world, into their lives, people who like him. He doesn't ever show it, but truly, he is grateful.

But somehow, he just cannot get his spirits up. They threw a birthday party for him after school over at Takesushi, it was a noisy event, just the way it always was when everybody are gathered together. He knows he should walk home contented, and at least, in a good weather.

He bade farewell to Tsuna and the rest after the quick party, and headed back to school, back to the classroom. As to why he revisited the dark, isolated class, he doesn't know either. Perhaps he already had a clear motive, just that, he's not sure what, and whether or not everything goes according to plan. He is not experienced in taking uncalculated risks.

He sat at the desk scented with the smell he unknowingly grew addicted to. Resting his cheek in his palm, he ran his elegant fingers over the furnished wood of the table, fusing his touch with the trails drawn by the owner. And then, he saw, those tiny, minute pencil doodles left on the milky white surface. It was so small it's difficult to see if one didn't squint hard enough. It was a half-finished word.


Gokudera felt a tingle down his spine. It wasn't unexpected, though. From all the tiny actions he caught him doing, accumulating all these inferences and piecing them up together, he more or less knows what is up. It isn't happiness he is feeling, but neither is it disgust. To put it simply, he'll rather not think about it at all, because he doesn't want to get to the bottom of the odd feeling he'll get everytime he does.

Today is September 9th. It is his birthday today. It is Yamamoto's baseball tournament today.

The baseball club was excused from attending school today, to prepare themselves for the grand finals. So he didn't get to see Yamamoto all day. It suddenly feels weird, not seeing his face for one whole day. It is like not looking at the ceiling when you wake up. He feels so, out of place, and somehow, abandoned.

On top of that, he has not received one word from Yamamoto. Not even a text message, to wish him happy birthday. Has he forgotten? No, it can't be, he remembers clearly Yamamoto's words two days ago, over lunch. He laughed, and told him that he'll find the best present for Gokudera. It was a promise. Yamamoto always upholds promises.

He continued waiting in the deafeningly quiet classroom, pondering about how his baseball tournament's going, and trying to look like he was doing his homework, but in actual fact coming up with battle tactics to use in fights. There is no homework today, to his dismay, so he doesn't have any excuse to go find Yamamoto at his house. But he remained in the room, hoping that Yamamoto may decide to come back to grab one or two of his stuff.

Really, he was doing all these, just to get a 'Happy Birthday' from him, right?

Time ticked by, and he remained the only one in the classroom. 3 hours crawled past, and he had checked his phone almost once every minute. The same old cold screen greeted him. Had it not been the janitor who chased him away because the school was closing, he would have stayed there well into the night.

Rain. A new reason to dislike the rain; it reminds him of Yamamoto. It torturously refreshes his memory, that his birthday is void of Yamamoto, that there is no "Happy Birthday" from him. The howling of the showers whips his ears, mocking him. The large pearls of rain spill onto him, staining his clothes and drenching his hair. A gust of wind blows, sending icy daggers onto his body which is dripping water.

Finally he approaches the familliar street, he is at last home. His footsteps quickens, as he sought to enter his house, the shelter that blocks the brewing storm.

And he saw; that shadow lingering in front of his door. He pauses. Is he seeing things? No, he isn't. Those long legs; those broad shoulders, those rich, honey-tinted eyes. They are real.


The boy with raven hair pivots around at the mention of his name, and grins widely. "Gokudera! I was wondering when you'll return..." He laughs again. Suddenly his laughter sounds so nolstagic.

Gokudera runs his eyes up and down the boy in front of him. Although he holds an umbrella in his hands, he is soaked, just like him. His almost translucent white T-shirt clings onto him like a second skin. His usually spiky hair are plastered to his skull, leaving strands of charcoal black hair hanging in front of his eyes. "What are you doing here?" Gokudera asks, the cavern inside him quickly being refilled by hope again.

"Ah, Gokudera, you're drenched!" Yamamoto exclaims, ignoring his question, and promptly dashes over to hold out his tiny umbrella over their heads. The umbrella is so small, their torsos are barely touching, just so that they get covered.

He starts to fish for tissue in his pocket, worrying that Gokudera may get cold. Gokudera quickly places his hand over his wrists. "Talk inside," Gokudera suggests, blushing too furiously to even dare look him in the eye.

Yamamoto clumsily follows Gokudera inside the apartment. He gently draw the door close with a soft 'click', sieving out the bawling of the tempest. "The... The tournament," Yamamoto starts out of the blue, "We won." He flashes a nervous grin.

Gokudera's gaze freezes on his face. The tournament is the first thing he mentions, does he not care about his birthday at all? He thins his lips, and proceeds to tug off his wet shoes. "Good for you then."

Yamamoto's smile falls a little, and so does his eyes - onto Gokudera's body. Gokudera's position of bending over makes his white shirt hang loosely from the frames of his bony shoulders, granting Yamamoto the view of a small portion of his pale chest. But he gulps, and pries his eyes away and looks back at Gokudera's face. "Our opponents, th... they were very strong. We had a tough time against them," he informs.

Baseball again. If he's here to lecture him on baseball, he'll much rather do without him. "If you're just here to tell me what happened every minute of your match, then save it, I'm not interested." He scorns, straightening his back to face him. He is going to be straight, he just wants a 'Happy Birthday'. Is it so hard?

Yamamoto's eyes creases into crescents as he smiles worriedly at him. "D... Do you know why I won?"

Gokudera rolls his eyes again, "Because stupidity triumphs all?" Sarcasm drips off his words. He slams his bag onto the top of the shoe rack.

"Be... Because it's your birthday today, that's why I... I'm so lucky today."

Gokudera pauses, being in the middle of removing his soggy socks. He doesn't look up at him, just frozen. Suddenly his heartbeat accelerates, for no apparent reason. It irritates him. "Stop talking stupid." His mumbled words are unclear.

Yamamoto's smile fades away, and he stops clenching his fist. He doesn't get it, he doesn't ever behave like this around Gokudera. So, why, now at this time? He has practised this many times already, hasn't he? His gaze keeps darting towards Gokudera's body. His now-transparent shirt hugs his chest, revealing his lean physique, and it explicitly outlines the details on his chest. His fingers catches a fistful of his saturated jeans, no, not that, not now. He laughs anxiously again. "Th... Then I bet you're going to kill me f... for what I'm going to say next, huh?"

Gokudera shoots him a suspicious look. But he soon returns to unfastening the first button on his white shirt as he pulls out his socks with the heel of his foot, keeping silent. He curses at himself for forgetting to wear a T-shirt underneath today.

Yamamoto, taking this as his cue, draws in a deep breath. He pierces into Gokudera's eyes, and opens his mouth. His muscles are stiff. He worries that sound will never come out, his voice caging in his throat, courage melting away. But he utters the first syllable. "Gokudera." He inhales again, for another dose of courage. "T... This may sound very sudden and stuff, a... and I understand if you feel the way you feel after hearing this. B... But will you listen to wh... what I have to say?"

Gokudera suddenly feels his already rapid heartbeats precipitate somemore. He swallows, ready, and yet not ready, for what is about to come.

The image of Gokudera's face starts to blur, when discomfiture floods his rational thinking. All he remembers, are just that his lips are moving, and words are coming out. "I-I like..." His hand subconciously raises up, towards Gokudera's apprehensive face. "I like... y-"

His skin feels the bare brush of Yamamoto's large palm. Electric sparks shoot through his body. Immediately he jerks backwards, as though it is a reflex action. He slips on his shoes, and tumbles over, letting out a yelp. He lands hard on his butt, and feels as though his spine has been snapped into half when he hit the edge of the shoe rack.

Muteness soon follows the slight commotion. The only sounds audible are Gokudera's heavy pantings, and the faint roaring of the rain outside. Yamamoto is too taken aback to remember to move. Gokudera doesn't understand. It isn't unforeseen that he'll do that, but it isn't predicted that he'll react like this too. To be touched like that by a man, is still, sort of... disgusting.

When his scattered senses finally piece themselves together, his breathings have regained normality. Slowly, he gets up, and grabs his bag. He steps inside the corridor leading to his bedroom. He is going to pretend, that nothing ever happened.

But no matter how hard he tries, the place where their skin met, it still burns a little.

Yamamoto's gaze remains fixated on the spot where Gokudera tripped. His arm stays in its previous position, wavering only slightly. The petrified expression on his face when he touched him, it is miserably etched inside him. Does Gokudera... fear him?

Shit. Yamamoto, for the first time in his life, curses. He has screwed it up, his first confession. He knows, that confessions are often the culprits that cut up the bonds between people. All the girls who had confessed to him before, he never looks at them the same way he did again. And now Gokudera will do the same thing to him, give him the cold shoulder, and never look him in the eye. He cannot steal fleeting glances at him in class, and stand close enough beside him to let their arms touch, and steal some of his spaghetti during lunch, and make sushi for him, and get assigned to him during pair works, and invite him to watch his baseball matches, and go to his house to do homework, and... and...

He isn't clear what happens next. He just stomps inside, and swipes out his hand to grab him. "Gokudera!" His voice is rushed and needy.

If he is going to dishevel his life, if he is going to have any regrets, if he is going to shatter his friendship with Gokudera, he will want to do it giving his all, with the same resolution he bears when he stands out on the field wielding the bat. Then, he'll go and drown himself in all the misery he is prepared to face.

In one forceful jerk he spins Gokudera around, causing the dripping bag to be flung away. He inches his face in towards the startled boy. "I like you," He breathes. He is not sure how this works, but he guess, he can figure out the basics on his own. His lips rested on Gokudera's partially parted ones. It all feels very new, very good, to soak himself in Gokudera's moistened lips, and to feel his subtle, hot breath fanning the pores on his cold skin, and to take in the silkyness of his wet arm as his fingers slide down to hold his hands. He weaves his fingers in between Gokudera's stiff ones, and closes his grasp. He stands there, leaning in awkwardly, like an inexperienced first-timer would, unsure of what should be done, but more than happy to just do this.

Gokudera's brain starts to riot. Didn't he just flung his hand away just now? Hasn't he come to the conclusion that being touched by another guy is revolting? So, what's this light-headed effervescence, bubbling inside his body? Why isn't he rejecting anything? His fingers are intertwined with his, why hasn't he shaken it away? His mouth being dominated in this way, shouldn't he get mad?

Or rather, why does everything feel so right?

Yamamoto can feel his frozen fingers twitching in his, filled with uncertainty. He doesn't know how much time has passed by, it feels incredibly long to him. He is expecting a sign of protest from the Italian, but so far, Gokudera has only stood there, still as stone.

As he thought, Gokudera feels nothing for him. Gokudera was right; he is only forcing himself onto him, he can only see things his way, and that is never a good quality, no matter how amiable he is.

Slowly, he pulls back from the soft kiss, the surface of contact between their lips shrinking. He senses sudden movement from Gokudera's hand, which draws back from the entanglement. He braces himself for an angry slap from him.

Then he feels it. Gokudera's lips, pucker. Yamamoto stops for just a quick second, astonished. Before he can register anything he feels a small tug at his shirt, heaving him back in to merge his lips with Gokudera's. And Gokudera destroys his doubts, pushing so lightly against his lips.

Damn it... Damn it! What... What is he doing? That... That idiot! Telling me he likes me, and then kissing me all of a sudden! And now he's going to leave me like that? And... And why am I doing this? This is wrong, this is wrong, this is so damn wrong! Nn... But why does something so disgusting feel so good?

Yamamoto's lower lip brushes against Gokudera's as he speaks, "Go-Gokudera... Y-You..." But Gokudera instantly plants another peck onto his mouth, shutting him up effectively.

That passion buried in their souls, surfaces.

Yamamoto returns the favour. He kisses back with the same intensity. Soon, the light planting of butterfly kisses against each other's lips grow to messy, fervent smooching. Gokudera parts his lips slightly to breathe, and Yamamoto, ever the opportunist, slids his tongue in. Gokudera lets out a small whine, his shoulders tensing up. Yamamoto, as he continues to stroke Gokudera's cigarette-scented tongue, starts to worry that the silver-haired may pull away from the kiss. But his worst fear shatter when he feels Gokudera's petrified tongue clumsily slide past his.

From then on, they take everything in their stride. They take this as a case of trail and error, to steal chances to open their mouths to breathe, and to smack back into each other, bumping around until they find little secret corners in each other's mouth, and then marking their ownership there. Teeth clashing, lips almost swollen, saliva smudging onto each other's faces, suckling off the tip of each other's tongue... As their liplock accentuates, Gokudera's clutch on Yamamoto's shirt grows stronger, forcing the rainwater to run down his fist in steady streams. Yamamoto's free hand rests on the small of the shorter teen's back. He grazes the arch, the boy's fabric lifting up slightly under the pressure.

"Ah!" Gokudera calls out suddenly, arching his back even more. Yamamoto's hot hand has landed on his skin in the moment of maladroitness. This prompts Yamamoto to slide his impatient hand under the drenched fabric, and run up the smooth, clammy skin. His skin is so soft.

A shiver shoots down Gokudera's spine. His pantings are hurried and deep. Yamamoto's tender lips has strayed away from his mouth, and trails down along his jawlines. Finally he feels Yamamoto's feverish breath ghost over the crook of his neck. The swordsman has to extend his hand to help brush away the strands of silver hair stuck provocatively onto the curvature, exposing even more of his fair neck. His tongue leaves wet imprints on every inch he can reach, tasting the bland rainwater gathered on the skin, and Gokudera's burning flavour. He sucks in more and more of his flesh, gradually leaving his teeth marks on his pale body, leaving painful red patches. At last, he resorts to making small, tiny nibbles, tickling Gokudera to no end.

Gokudera bites down on his lip, his hands falling over Yamamoto's shoulder blades. He claws at the broad back, sometimes uncontrollably digging into his flesh when the Japanese bites. A montage of pleasure and disappointment washes over that depleted lagoon in his heart. Pleasure, from the physical contact between their bodies, and disappointment, from having his body cave in so easily. He is the right hand man of Jyuudaime, how can he collapse under such useless things so effortlessly?

'Bam!' Gokudera is slammed against the wall, breaking him out from his thoughts. He lets out a cry when the hand working on his back slides in front, fondling his stomach, sending countless tingles throughout his nerves. "Sorry Gokudera, did that hurt?" Yamamoto asks in between rushed short breaths. The tongue on his neck laps more urgently, almost desperate. Gokudera's nails sink in even deeper into his muscles, until burning red lines are formed, giving him his answer. Yamamoto compensates by veering his touch northwards, until he brushes past a bud.

Gokudera gasps sharply. "Ya-Yama-mo- Nn!" Yamamoto, having found the secret place, caresses about his nipples vigorously. His awkward movements do not compromise for the bouts of waves ripping through Gokudera's body. His other hand manages to position themselves between the buttons on Gokudera's shirt, and in one forceful swipe, tears the offending cloth off.

There Gokudera stands, topless, with Yamamoto peering with lust at his slim physique. The region where his tongue once lapped furiously at is left cold and unwanted, as his mouth moves in towards his small pink nipples. His thumb continues fiddling, stroking, tickling the tip of other nipple, while his tongue tasted the sweetness of this one, wiping around his areola, licking in the droplets of rainwater adhered to his chest.

"A- Ahn..." The sounds escape the silver-haired's throat. His nails claw Yamamoto's shirt, tearing at it with so much desires to have it shredded. He can feel some stirrings going on in between his legs, like some immense longing, screaming to be let out. No, as the right hand man, he... he will not give in. He will not. He cannot. "N-No g-ood... Nn!" But the pulsating blood vessels keep on rebelling.

Yamamoto continues regardless of the searing pain on his back. His hand roams from his pink bud, and trickles down along his flat stomach, arriving at the hem of his pants. Gokudera pauses his train of thoughts, half holding in his breath to wonder if he is going to really do it.

He does. It is as if he turns into a skilful expert at this kind of things suddenly. With nimble fingers he yanks Gokudera's pants down. It isn't very difficult, because the pants hang loosely on his hips despite the belt. His fingers find their way inside the waistband of his boxers, scraping the ends of his hair.

"Ah-Ahn!!" Gokudera throws his head back when hot skin brush past the tip of his erection. Agile fingers wrap around his wet shaft, which is whipped by the sudden cold air when he finds that his boxers have fallen to his ankles. Gokudera bites down hard on his tongue to keep himself from screaming at the jolts of electricity zapping throughout his body. He can't think anymore. His brain has switched off. Only his senses are working right now, taking in every single detail. Yamamoto pulls away from the abused nipple to lower his head down to Gokudera's crotch.

Gokudera's naked. And Gokudera allowed him to see that.

His flushed organ already has tiny streaks of liquid leaking from the tip. It stands out very brightly against the whiteness of the Italian's skin. Yamamoto's face turns a shade of scarlet. "So... Cute..." He comments as he runs his eyes from the soft silver hair to the intoxicatingly rosy sacs. It is so red, it looks like it is going to tear his very fair skin apart.

Gokudera's legs unconsciously closes in, feeling especially self-conscious. "St-Stop looking... Damn it..." He orders, clearly uneasy.

Yamamoto chuckles. "I'm sorry Gokudera," He apologises in a raspy voice. He then parts his lips, fanning his needy breath over the throbbing anatomy. "But it's just too cute." With that, he rests his hands on Gokudera's hips, and wraps his mouth over the tip. A piercing gasp escapes Gokudera's throat, as he feels the warm, humid inside of Yamamoto's mouth. His swift tongue tickles agonizingly, sloshing and flicking about the sizzling skin, before dipping itself into the slit.

Gokudera has to clasp tufts of Yamamoto's wet hair, gripping with such force it seems like he will pull out the hair anytime. Not wanting to hurt him, his right hand slaps back, seizing the side of the wall instead. "Ahn!" He grits his teeth as his member throbs with such strength he feels his entire body thumping along, heavy influx of electric pleasure crashing onto his nerves with each throb. He instinctively spreads out his long legs, despite them growing increasingly limper with every passing pulse. This is so embarassing... To look so weak and to be whining before another person... He can just die from the embarassment.

Deeper and deeper, Yamamoto's mouth engulfs more of Gokudera's shaft, until the entrance of his throat feels something. He wipes across the shaft, licking and tasting the Italian's luscious aroma. His fingers find their way to Gokudera's small butt, kneading the firm flesh, before finally parting his cheeks. His fingers tease ruthlessly, gently caressing the rim of his entrance, causing Gokudera to yelp again.

An amused smile tugs at the ends of his lips as he slides into the slippery hole. The muscles of the opening tenses, mildly squeezing his knuckle as he pushes in deeper. He strokes his inner walls, and glides back a little, before driving in again.

"Ah-AHN!" Tears cloud Gokudera's eyes when the second digit forces its way in. The stabbing pain lances throughout his body, right to the tip of his fingers. Yamamoto, having heard the acute cry, immediately ceases his smooth and fluid ministrations and withdraws his detestable fingers. He retracts the erection from his mouth, strands of saliva linking the two bodies, before breaking off.

He stares up at Gokudera with fretful eyes, slurring quite unclearly due to the cum in his mouth, "I-I'm sorry! I-Is that painful? Did I- Did I hurt you? I-I'll stop if you want me to...!"

Gokudera takes his time for the pain to subside first, before releasing his grip on Yamamoto's sweat-stained hair, slamming back to the wall in exhaustion. He peers down at him with narrow slits of jade green eyes, mucous chest heaving as he pants. He forces a weak smirk, snorting, "I... I'm not the Hurricane Bomb for nothing... you know." Is the idiot trying to taunt him? What utter nonsense. He's not pathetic.

Yamamoto shoots him another look of doubt. "A-Are you sure?" He gulps. "You know, that once I start, I-I will turn into a beast. I won't stop." Concern floods his gaze.

"Tch," His scorn is feeble and unconvincing. "Just-Just hurry up." The ebbing sensation is beating away, his body yearns for Yamamoto's burning touch again.

Yamamoto tears his eyes away from Gokudera's sensual eyes, a smile creeping onto his wanton lips as he takes in Gokudera's length in again, slurping at it with the same ferocity as before. Gokudera's hollow is quickly warmed again as the raven-haired thrusts in his digits swiftly. One finger, two fingers. He feels like his butt is going to split, to be ripped apart. But the pressure being built inside him as the inexperienced callous fingers rub against his raw, it is a total opposite of the physical torment. It is gratifying, almost heavenly. How can two sensations on the extreme ends co-exist at the same time?

And he realises, yes they can. Just like Yamamoto and him.

The agony he is experiencing is further aggravated when a third finger squeezes in. "Ahn!" Gokudera smacks the back of his head against the wall, gripping, almost clawing, at the rock hard edge of the wall. The searing, excruciating pain slices throughout his nerves. The stitch rapidly fades away for a fraction of a second, before being refreshed with fresh, even stronger doses when the fingers start slamming in again. The torturous cycle repeats itself agonizingly, stabbing at him, forming veils of tears in his eyes. He clenches his teeth so hard he is getting a headache. White juice runs down the insides of his thighs. "Ahn! Yama-Yamamo-" With the more vigorous lances of pain, the gratifying pleasure intensifies too. His erection is not going to take it any longer. It is throbbing more ferociously, and the little sizzling cloud inside him that grew exponentially to an electric cloud feels like it is about to explode.

Yamamoto sucks at the pulsating cock more viciously, faster and faster, harder and harder, spreading his saliva over whatever surface he can reach. Circling, dipping, swirling, hearing Gokudera's cries of indulgence, until the Italian reaches his limit.

"Yama-AHH!" A gush of zapping voltage strikes through him, ripping his insides apart. Hot liquid erupts out of his organ, filling Yamamoto's mouth. This, this feeling... Is this what they call 'orgasm'? He is in so much embarrassment. To let the baseball idiot see his face all twisted, and to... to come before him, and to let him slosh at his body fluids... Oh the way he cleans him up, licking every single drop off, running his wet lips along the surface until it departs from the tip with a sucking sound, letting threads of saliva linking the two anatomies give way and collapse immediately... He can just die there right now.

Before he can do anything his legs are suddenly heaved off the ground, as Yamamoto places his thighs on his shoulders and stands up. Gokudera takes in a strengthless huff, having been slanted with his head being propped against the wall. He hastily wraps his arms around Yamamoto's neck for support. "Wh-what are you going to do?" He wheezes in between breaths, uncertainty mounting inside him.

Yamamoto flashes a trembling crooked smile. "I told you, I won't stop. So if you want me to stop, tell me now," he inches in towards Gokudera to plant a soft kiss on Gokudera's lips. Taking the silence from Gokudera as consent, he unzips his pants and tugs down the hems of his boxers, letting free his leaking and very-much-tortured erection.

Gokudera was soaking in the softness of the baseball player's lips, indulging, when he suddenly feels his entrance being intruded again, pain searing again. "AH!" He breaks from the kiss to howl. He peeks down to see Yamamoto's hardened member sticking inside him.

Yamamoto pants, staring at him, "Only the tip's in. You-You're so tight Gokudera. A-Are you really hurting? I-I'll stop-"

His sentence is promptly broke off by Gokudera's lips as he collides back in for the kiss. Yamamoto's eyelids fall, and silently promises to be as gentle as he can.

Slowly, ever so carefully, he slips in. He feels as Gokudera's tensed muscles clench around him in spasm, filled with doubts and fears. Being beginners at this, they know nothing about lubricants to ease the burning pain. So they rely on Yamamoto's cum, and those leftover secretion inside Gokudera's hole, to slick their motions. It takes quite a long time, because Yamamoto has to pause every now and then to let his partner adjust to the agony, before continuing to introduce more pain into him. Finally, his entire length goes inside him.

"G-Gokudera," His words are muffled and breathless. "I'm i-in you." His foolish-looking grin spreads slightly across his face.

Gokudera sneers fraily, "I-Idiot." There is no need to declare such obvious things.

"I'm going to turn into a monster now, just hang on. O-Okay?" His honey eyes widens at him.

"Nn." His clutch around Yamamoto's sweaty neck grows tighter.

Yamamoto tugs back his hips suddenly. Gokudera jolts up at the pain that returned with a much greater magnitude. Before he knows it Yamamoto thrusts in. "Ah!" Gokudera's howls of pain float in the atmosphere, as the Japanese yanks back and shoves in once again, in a more fluid motion this time. Gokudera has to clasp his hand over his mouth to suppress the wails gathered at the tip of his tongue. His fingers fist Yamamoto's damp shirt as the teen wrench back and ram in in ryhthmic successions, sending bouts and tsunamis of an excruciating sensation, shredding him inside out. A strand of tear fell down Gokudera's flushed cheeks.

Yamamoto, noticing the trickle of diamond that rolled down his beloved's face, shifts in. The shovings continues uncontrollably. "Sorry," he mouths, and tenderly pulls his hand away, settling his lips onto Gokudera's wet ones. "Whatever pain you feel, let me share it with you." Those words are never said out loud, but both of them hear it.

Gokudera's eyelids crinkle as he winces, having his spine been smacked continuously against the wall with every thrust. But Yamamoto's gentle tongue soothes him. He makes the pain seem insignificant.


Whose birthday is it anyway? If it's mine, you sure treat it like it's yours.

The squelching sounds of wet skin colliding into wet skin resonate. 'Bam! Bam! Bam!' Gokudera's back slams against the wall repeatedly. Slivers of moans escape from their mouths. "Yama-moto... Don't-Don't stop..."

"I won't. I won't."

I can't believe that I'm actually doing these kind of things with you. It's so embarrassing I can die, do you know that? If you're going to tell me that this is the birthday present you were planning,

The pourings outside the house accentuates, until the howlings of the fierce tempest can be heard. The windows in the house rattle against their sills in the hollow house. "Gokudera..." Yamamoto gingerly wipes a teardrop off Gokudera's cheeks.

"Happy birthday."

I will kill you.

The imminent storm and rain outside whip at the house more furiously, causing the windows to bang more violently. Yamamoto's momentum accelerates as well, shoving in and out more turbulently, the tension building up inside Gokudera grows more rapidly.

But I guess, having you make me dig out those feelings concealed beneath the pits of my heart, is sort of, a good thing. If those cravings have been left enshrouded and neglected within me, I'm sure the pain will be much more unbearable than this.

Feeling energy-zapped, Yamamoto swiftly lugs the light teen off and rests him on the floor. He spreads out the Italian's thighs even further, and rams himself in with more speed.

"H-Hang on, o-okay? I'm c-coming very s-soon."

"Nn! I-Idiot..."

They fall back into each other's cravings.

You made me realise, that there is still room inside my heart. I have always thought, that other than my mother and Jyuudaime, I can never commit myself to anyone else. But you, you have squeezed your way inside here, and made me start noticing you, growing wary of all those little actions I would have never taken note of.

Yamamoto's burning hands trickles up Gokudera's smooth, white skin, before blanketting themselves around his growing erection. It is once again pink and rosy, slightly leaking with liquid that glistens under the flourescent light. He rubs up and down the shaft, flicking about the tip with his skilful thumb. The clashes of electrifying delight wallop Gokudera's insides again. Gokudera suckles at Yamamoto's lip to restrain his impeding moans.

You made me realise, that I can still love.

"I l-like you, Gokudera, I like you so much," Yamamoto whispers in a husky voice inside his ear. "Thank you for liking me too. Really... I-I'm so happy I can cry." He moves in for the passionate French kissing again, dying to taste Gokudera once more.

Hot liquid that is not Gokudera's smudge into their concoction of saliva and tears.

To have you helping me surface all those inner desires and truths, to have you telling me 'I like you', to have you merging your heartbeat with mine,

"Ah-Ahn! Yama-Yamamo-to!"

"Go-Gokudera, nn...!!"

For a birthday present, I suppose that will do.

The white boiling liquid spurts out of Gokudera, spilling onto his stomach and Yamamoto's chest. Yamamoto, too, grimaces as he feels his own ejection exploding inside Gokudera, filling up the vacant spaces before leaking out of the pink and abused hole.

Yamamoto slumps on top of Gokudera, exhausted. Their chests meet as they heave up and down. Yamamoto tilts his head, letting their eyes lock, and as if on cue, their breaths freeze, before bursting out into soft laughter. Their foreheads gently press against each other's as they bask in the unlikely bliss.

The storm and rain suddenly dampens, reducing to a light, soft shower with the occasional winds now. Gokudera thinks, that he does like the rain afterall.

"Ah, it's dark isn't it?" Yamamoto's voice echoes in the dark and isolated hallway.

Trailing beside him, Gokudera spits, "Of course it's dark! It's closed! What are you doing dragging me all the way here and sneaking in?"

A mischievious grin spreads across his face. "You'll find out soon enough."

Gokudera hisses, frowning and burying his hands into his pocket, before memories of what happened in the evening haunt him. His face turns into a tomato, asking bashfully, "Hey, baseball idiot."


"H-How come you've never told me all day, 'Happy Birthday', not even a text message..."

Yamamoto blinks at him, before breaking out in laughter. "Haha! Because I want to confess to Gokudera after I win the match." He smiles assuringly at him. "I want that to be part of the birthday present for you too."

Gokudera pauses for a moment, before he is interrupted by the one in front again, "Ah! There's our classroom." He pivots around to pull open the door.

The lights in the room flickers, while Gokudera continues ranting, "Wait! What are you doing switching on the lights! They'll see us, you idiot! Hey, listen to me!"

Yamamoto persists in strolling over to the table in the middle of the class, the table where Gokudera sat waiting for him earlier in the day. They halt in front of the table, and Yamamoto digs inside his pocket.

"What are you-"

A pen brandishes in front of Gokudera before he can complete his sentence. Almost staring cock-eyed at the pen, he flits his glare back to the raven-haired boy. "What?" He demands.

Yamamoto's megawatt smile forms on his face again, as he explains, "Let's complete it."

Bewilderment is apparent on Gokudera's face. His eyes shoot down to where Yamamoto is pointing at. It is the half-finished word.

Gokudera looks back at Yamamoto for affirmation. But the Japanese just stand there, beaming, and holding his pen. With a lobster-red face, he scowls, "Idiot." And he smoothly takes the black pen, grazing past Yamamoto's fingers as he does, and positions it over the surface. His hand begins moving.


Yamamoto smirks, and stretches his arm over Gokudera's lean back, covering his hands and holding the pen. Gokudera's heartbeat goes wild again at the cosy touch of Yamamoto's cheeks against his, and watching him write something else under their names. When he is done, he lets go of his lover's hand, straightening his back to face him. "It's complete," He announces, smiling. "Our futures form a single line now."

Gokudera gazes at him, before darting his eyes away in embarassment. "I told you, you're an idiot to the core." But inside, he is warm.

Up till now, I still haven't figure out why I like a baseball idiot like you. A baseball idiot who laughs at everything, a baseball idiot who is only good at sports, a baseball idiot whom everybody likes, a baseball idiot who drags his lover all the way to school in the middle of the night to do such childish things.

But I guess, that is what I like about you.

9 September

A/N: Phew! It is my first lemon, so I'm sorry it sucks so much! If you guys are wondering about the Italian words,

Settembre - September
Ti voglio bene - I like you (so cliche, I'm sorry XD)
Eternamente - eternally

So thank you for reading, and I hope you liked it! :D

Ooh, and don't forget to leave a review please, so that I can improve. *puppy eyes*