Title: Mirror, Mirror
Summary: In which Yamamoto attempts to address Gokudera's regrettably low self-esteem.
Notes: Adult. For Prompt Battle #3 at anime_manga, prompt: "Katekyou Hitman Reborn, Yamamoto/Gokudera, 'Don't you know you're beautiful?'" Smut; future fic. 2,305 words.
It was a good morning, Takeshi decided, and that wasn't just because he was on vacation and had taken advantage of the fact to sleep late and wake up slowly. Sleeping in was always nice, but it was better to lounge in the rumple of their bed and watch Hayato move across the room, fresh from his morning shower and wearing only a towel. As Takeshi watched, Hayato pulled a drawer open and began picking through his underwear, spine flexing in a curve that dipped under the edge of the towel, teasing.
"What are you staring at, asshole?" Hayato asked, without looking around.
That was the thing about Hayato. It was like he had sensors or something that let him know whenever someone had been looking at him for too long. It would have been funny how he bristled and got self-conscious whenever he caught Takeshi eyeing him appreciatively, if only it weren't so depressing. He was going to have to do something about that one of these days, Takeshi thought, and considered their morning, stretching out unscheduled ahead of them. Vacations really were wonderful things, and there was no time like the present. "You," he said, with one last full-body stretch before he slid out of bed.
Since Hayato wasn't wearing anything but a towel, there wasn't anything to keep Takeshi from seeing the way the color hit Hayato's face and spread all the way down his throat. "Idiot," Hayato snapped at him, as Takeshi padded over and fit himself against Hayato's back. He curled an arm around Hayato's waist, trapping him against the dresser. "You should take a picture. It'll last longer."
"Mm, maybe," Takeshi said, resting his chin on Hayato's shoulder and looking at their reflection in the mirror that hung over the dresser. Hayato glared back at him, color still high and eyes hard. Well, Hayato didn't like being ogled, because it flustered him. Shame, that. "Hard to do this to a picture, you know?" Takeshi turned his head just a bit to press his mouth against the side of Hayato's throat, at the sensitive point just under his ear, where the skin was still damp from Hayato's shower.
Hayato's stomach moved under his palm as his breath hitched a little. His expression in the mirror relaxed a little. "You'd figure something out."
"Maybe," Takeshi said against his skin, and tasted it, clean and fresh on his tongue as he traced his mouth up and closed it on Hayato's earlobe, sucking. In their reflection, the lines between Hayato's eyebrows smoothed out, and his lips parted on a breath as Takeshi spread his fingers against Hayato's stomach, stroking it.
"I just got out of the shower," Hayato said. Takeshi considered that, but it sounded like a protest for form's sake only, one that he was safe ignoring. He kissed his way back down the side of Hayato's throat, slow and open-mouthed, and watched Hayato's eyes turning hazy in the mirror.
"Mmm, I know." Takeshi let his hand stroke down Hayato's stomach, fingers edging under the towel, loosening its tucked folds and slipping underneath to run along the crease of Hayato's hip.
"You're awful," Hayato told him, and gasped as Takeshi worked the towel looser and stroked his fingers down, running them over Hayato's cock, which was already beginning to fill and harden. "Takeshi..."
Takeshi hummed against Hayato's shoulder, watching Hayato's face in the mirror as he fondled Hayato's cock. Hayato's lips parted on a sigh, and he relaxed against Takeshi's chest, eyes going heavy-lidded as the last of his irritation fled. He didn't protest when Takeshi worked the towel completely loose and let it drop to the floor, or when Takeshi pressed himself closer, till he could feel the long bare line of Hayato's skin against his. Takeshi stroked him slowly, until Hayato's hips began to move, shifting back to rub his ass against Takeshi's cock and rocking against Takeshi's fist. "Takeshi," he said again, low and breathless, as Takeshi ran his mouth along Hayato's shoulder, nibbling on the smooth muscle of it. "Take me to bed already."
"I think we're fine here," Takeshi told him, watching Hayato's face in the mirror and the expression of annoyance that crossed it. That little flash of irritation disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived as Takeshi rubbed his thumb back and forth over Hayato's head, chased away by a look of lazy pleasure. Takeshi smiled at that, watching Hayato's eyelids droop over his eyes, and stroked him slowly. "Here's good, right?" he murmured.
"If you insist," Hayato said, husky, and moaned as Takeshi spread his other hand against Hayato's chest, caressing it. "Ah..."
Takeshi nuzzled the side of Hayato's throat. "I do," he said against Hayato's ear, and nudged a knee against Hayato's. Hayato accepted the cue, planting his feet wider against the floor and leaning forward, flattening a hand against the top of the dresser. "This is a good spot."
"How do you figure that?" Hayato asked, arching a little as Takeshi cupped his hands around Hayato's ass, squeezing it. His color was running high again, but he reached for the little bowl that stayed on the dresser top to catch the odds and ends emptied out of their pockets at the day's end, and passed a little foil packet back to Takeshi without any hint of embarrassment.
"Mm," Takeshi said, leaning forward to nuzzle Hayato's nape through the damp fall of his hair, and left off answering that as he slicked his fingers and spread Hayato open to work them into him. Hayato moaned, open and low, and his eyes closed as Takeshi stroked his fingers deeper. Takeshi leaned against his back, and rested his chin against Hayato's shoulder. "This is why," he said, watching him in the mirror.
Hayato's eyes drifted open, hazy green, and met his in the mirror. "What is?" he asked, and gasped as Takeshi twisted his fingers. "God!" He arched under Takeshi, bracing himself against the dresser top as Takeshi's fingers worked against him. "God, come on already, don't tease."
"I'm not teasing." Takeshi slicked his cock with what remained in the little packet, and circled an arm around Hayato again, holding him. They both groaned as he slid into Hayato, slow and easy, and heat licked up Takeshi's spine as he watched Hayato's mouth fall open and open want crossed his face. "God, Hayato..."
Hayato wet his lips. "Come on," he said again, voice low and rough. "Come on, do it."
"Yeah, okay," Takeshi said, softly, still watching him and the shifts in Hayato's expression as he drew back and pressed into him again, the little tremble in the shapes Hayato's lips made as they formed unspoken words and the way Hayato's eyelids fluttered with each stroke. "Look at you," Takeshi told him as he rocked against Hayato, cock sliding in and out of him and heat twining through him with every slow thrust.
In the mirror, Hayato's eyes flew open. He stared at their reflection like he'd only just realized that the mirror was there, and what that meant. "Oh my God," he said, sounding appalled, and the stuttered out a little moan as Takeshi shifted his hips just so and his cock drove into Hayato at a different angle. "Takeshi!"
"Just look at you," Takeshi said, holding Hayato's eyes in the mirror as Hayato's color rose even higher. "Look at how beautiful you are." He stroked his hand over Hayato's chest, watching Hayato's eyes track the movement of his fingers as he traced them over the solidness of Hayato's muscles. "I love watching you, you know."
Hayato said his name again, low and protesting, as Takeshi traced a fingertip down Hayato's breastbone. His stomach muscles shivered under Takeshi's fingers as they slid lower, and he closed his eyes. "Don't," he said, voice low.
"Why not?" Takeshi asked, driving his cock a little deeper. It wrung a low, breathless sound out of Hayato. "What's wrong with watching you?"
"It's embarrassing." Hayato shuddered as Takeshi brushed his knuckles against Hayato's cock, lightly, and then made a sound as Takeshi settled his hands on Hayato's hips and held them, pressing deep and holding himself there, still. "What...?"
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," Takeshi told him, holding Hayato steady and panting with the need to move, to chase the edge of the pleasure curling through him. "Just look, and see."
"You're a bastard," Hayato said, and tried to rock his hips back against Takeshi's. He made a sound, frustrated, when Takeshi wouldn't let him. "Takeshi--"
"Open your eyes," Takeshi said, against his ear, and watched the twitch of irritation in Hayato's expression.
Hayato strained against him, practically vibrating, and then growled, low and frustrated, as Takeshi held steady. "Bastard," he said, and opened his eyes, clearly unwillingly. He glanced at their reflection, and then his eyes slid away from the mirror. "Happy now?"
"Happier," Takeshi murmured, and moved his fingers down, pressing them against the base of Hayato's cock.
Hayato made a strangled sound as he did, half outrage and half moan, and then gasped as Takeshi rolled his hips against Hayato's, slow and shallow. "Hey!" he protested, and then again when Takeshi caught the hand that he was reaching down to himself.
"Don't look away," Takeshi told him, breathlessly, as he fucked Hayato with short, shallow thrusts, cock working against Hayato's entrance and sending little ripples of heat plucking at Takeshi's nerves. "I want you to look, Hayato. I want you to see what I see when I'm fucking you."
"Bastard," Hayato said again, aggravated, and then dragged his eyes back to the mirror, blushing all the way down his throat to his chest as he did.
"Maybe," Takeshi said, and smiled at him. "Now watch."
"Pervert--ah!" Hayato groaned, low and open, as Takeshi drew back and thrust into him again, deep and sure. He arched against Takeshi, hands gripping the edge of the dresser as Takeshi drove into him, hard enough to rock Hayato up off his heels. "Oh... oh, God..."
"Yeah," Takeshi said, panting for breath as he fucked Hayato, deep and slow and hard, watching Hayato arch and flex with each stroke, expression changing with the pleasure moving through him and his eyes gone dark with heat. "God, I love looking at you. Especially when I'm inside you."
"You're such a freak," Hayato said, but he sounded distracted, and his eyes seemed to be following the hand that was finally letting go of his to skate over Hayato's skin, tanned dark and contrasting with Hayato's fairer skin. Takeshi stroked the lines of him, the outlines of his pectoral muscles and the smooth skin low on Hayato's stomach. "Oh... oh God..." he breathed, as Takeshi's hand dropped lower, teasing over the head of his cock. "God... oh please..."
Takeshi set his chin against Hayato's shoulder. "I'm not a freak," he said, into Hayato's ear, watching Hayato watch the way his fingers wrapped around Hayato's cock, stroking down the length of it and back up again as Hayato made a sound, practically a whine, low and wanting. "You're just gorgeous, that's all."
Hayato moaned again, and reached back, catching at Takeshi's shoulder and gripping it hard. "I don't care what I am, but if you don't let me come, so help me..."
"Just don't look away," Takeshi murmured, and took his fingers away from the base of Hayato's cock. He fisted his hand around Hayato's cock and stroked him hard, counterpoint to the rhythm of his cock pounding into Hayato, faster now.
Hayato didn't--he was practically staring, even as he gasped with the sudden swift strokes. His eyes were fixed on the movement of Takeshi's hand sliding over the flushed skin of his cock, and his orgasm seemed to catch him by surprise. He made a sound, shocked and raw, as his body spasmed, wringing tight around Takeshi, and pleasure swept his expression open and blank as he shook.
Takeshi groaned, watching him, and let his hips snap against Hayato's, urgent with the heat that was singing through him. "God," he said, throat dry with his panting, "God, Hayato, oh..." Then Hayato lifted his eyes to Takeshi's, dazed and soft, and Takeshi lost it, crying out as pleasure ripped through him, long waves of it that drew out under the way Hayato watched him. "Yes!"
He had to catch himself against the edge of the dresser after, sagging against Hayato's back and gulping for breath. Hayato let him, still watching him, expression shifting again as he tucked away the softness and the surprise and became more his normal self. "Are you happy now?" he inquired.
"Happy enough," Takeshi told him, winding an arm around Hayato and pressing a kiss against his shoulder before grinning at him in the mirror.
"Weirdo," Hayato said. He sounded grumpy about it, but there was still just a hint of startled, sneaking pleasure in the softness around his eyes. Then he shook himself. "God, and now I need another shower. Asshole."
"We could share," Takeshi suggested, and topped it off with a leer for good measure.
"Oh, like that's a practical idea." Hayato rolled his eyes. "I know how that'll go, you big pervert."
"Yeah, and what's your point?" Takeshi grinned at him. "Hey, I bet we could do some interesting things with the mirror that's on the back of the door, and the one that's over the sink. You ever wondered what I look like I'm moving in and out of you?"
Hayato went red to the roots of his hair, sputtering in outrage as he eeled away from Takeshi. "You--!"
"That's not a no," Takeshi said, cheerfully, and watched Hayato throw his hands up and stomp back towards the bathroom.
And, Takeshi noted, he didn't try to stop Takeshi from following him, either.
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