Greetings from the land of 8059! I come bearing smut xD
Creds to Amie (amikoamie on dA) for being the cutest Gokudera to roleplay with ; u ; The stuff Gokudera says is all her. I just write shit up all pretty.
Characters belong to Amano Akira, who is forever amazing
If you like this, leave a review so I write more 8D I mean, who doesn't want more porn?
The cold, drab lighting flickered slightly above their heads. They, being Yamamoto and Gokudera, two university students making a late night run to their local 24-hour Wal-Mart for pop tarts and Sprite.
Yamamoto stretched, his thin t-shirt rising just above his waistline and revealing a sliver of tanned skin. "Gokudera, did you get all the stuff you needed?"
Looking back with incoming drowsiness, and grumbled quietly, "I just want to go home, okay?"
Gokudera in a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, wearing his glasses and his hair tied up should not turn him on as much as it did. And they said the hormones calmed after high school. For Yamamoto it was at least twice as bad now that his old peers weren't around as often. As his alone time with Gokudera increased, seemingly, so did his libido.
Just think unsexy thoughts. Lambo in a bikini…at the beach…Gokudera topless, under me and—
But when Gokudera dropped his phone out of drowsiness and bent over to pick it up, Yamamoto could physically feel his self-control shattering. Grabbing Gokudera's hand when he stood up straight again, Yamamoto whispered, "Before we go, could we..."
Gokudera just stared at him, brain fried and sleepy. Then suddenly Gokudera felt his body being pulled along to what seemed like the men's changing area. Yamamoto decided that this would be a safe place since people didn't exactly go trying on clothes at one o clock in the morning.
When his eyes readjusted, Gokudera found himself leaning against a cold, white dry wall in what appeared to be a changing cubicle. Yamamoto already decided not to waste any time and began stripping Gokudera, starting with his t-shirt, peeling it off carefully over his head.
But before Gokudera could even react to his feather-light touches, with the creepiest sense of synchronicity, they both caught sight on a mass of ruffles gathered in a dusty corner of the small space.
Before Yamamoto could even utter a word, Gokudera's loud voice exploded from the changing space, "THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I AM PUTTING THAT ON, YOU DUMBASS!" Hiding his face in his partner's chest and gripping the clothes over his partner's back rightly, his face burned with embarrassment at the mere thought. "F-fucking perv…"
Petting Gokudera's soft hair, Yamamoto rested his head on the head in front of him and grinned sheepishly, "Sorry Gokudera."
They simply stood in silence until the infamous baseball idiot broke the silence, more or less demanding for his life to end at the hands of the silver haired bomber.
"What if I help you put it on?
"What the fuck, Yamamoto."
Fast hands began undoing Gokudera's belt and insisting his pants and underwear to his knees, exposing his warm skin to the pasty air conditioned air around them. He hissed at the sensation of the occasional brush of fabric to his nether region as Yamamoto continued to strip him. "I-idiot. I never agreed to wear it in the first place!"
Kissing the side of his neck reassuringly, Yamamoto left a small, red mark. "It's okay. It's late so it's not like anyone saw us anyway." Gokudera clung to his broad shoulders in defeat as he gasped with pleasure, "But I hope you know you and your fetishes are extremely creepy."
"I love you, Hayato~" Yamamoto pulled his own shirt off and leaned in for another kiss, but was pushed away; out of the change room completely.
Grabbing the dress up off the floor, Gokudera slammed the door in the baseball player's face insisting, "I can do it myself!"
Yamamoto, left dumbstruck, shitless and a little chilly scratched his head and waited patiently outside the cubicle.
A long, colourful string of loud curses later, the area around them fell silent except for the faint sound of late night shoppers bustling far away.
"O-oi Yamamoto…I'm done."
Inside the changing cubicle, Gokudera clenched his teeth and tugged at the frills beginning to itch his skin. Shit…I probably look like a complete dumbass.
Yamamoto practically pressed himself against the door, "Want to come out or should I go back in?"
"I-I'll come out. Hold on." As the usually cool and composed bomber cursed while he fumbled with the lock, when he finally emerged from the small room; cursing and tugging at the short skirt, Yamamoto only stared, speechless.
"I can't believe girls wear this kind of shit…it's too damn short."
When Gokudera looked up, their gazes locked and suddenly insecure, Gokudera asked, "W-what? Is there something wrong with it?"
"N-no!" Yamamoto reached out and grabbed his hands in reassurance. "I-I think y-you look…I mean- well—"
"Just spit it out already, idiot!"
Yamamoto's face flushed. What was he supposed to say when Gokudera's face was flushed red, his eyes averting his gaze and his frail looking arms and legs attempted to shield his revealed bare skin from the burning gaze? The dress was a bit tight around the shoulders, loose around the chest, but managed to hug his waist perfectly, exposing his body's natural figure for Yamamoto's eyes.
In a moment of instinct, Yamamoto pulled the bomber against his chest and encircled his waist with his arms.
"I think you look amazing."
The temperature in Gokudera's face rose yet again at the sudden, physical contact. Unsure of what to do, he merely snuggled closer to the baseball player's body heat.
One of Yamamoto's large hands occupied itself with fiddling with the back ruffles underneath the silk, black skirt while the other supported Gokudera's drooping body by the waist. "You really do look great in this, you know," he commented offhandedly.
"Shut up. This is never happening again," Gokudera replied, burying his face further into Yamamoto's chest.
"Well since you're wearing this, should I suck you off?"
"Wh-what?" Caught off guard, Gokudera was gently lifted at the waist and carried into the changing cubicle where the door was shut and locked behind him. His face burned crimson and the bulge he felt against his stomach was not making him hot… at all.
Biting back a moan, Gokudera squirmed out of the baseball player's grasp and leaned against the wall to the right of the door. Yamamoto merely advanced and pinned Gokudera's thin arms against the bleached wall while his hand began sorting through the onslaught of frills that blocked him from his destination.
"Don't be shy; not even the ruffles of the skirt can hide how hard you are right now." Pressing close, Yamamoto whispered dangerously low, "Because wearing this really turns you on doesn't it?" His tongue stuck out for a brief moment and tasted the sweat beginning to form on his neck.
The warm, wet sensation caused Gokudera's chin to tilt upwards out of instinct as his body yearned for more of the familiar heat that was Yamamoto.
Managing to form words, Gokudera panted, "It d-does not." Somehow he refused to give into the fact of how much he absolutely wanted him right then and there, even if they were in a Wal-Mart changing cubicle.
"Yeah? Even when I touch you," he squeezed his butt while applying pressure to his crotch, earning and electrifying moan, "here?"
"Ahh! Y-yamamoto…" Drooping forward, Gokudera clung to his shoulders for support from the pleasure soaring through him.
Yamamoto secured his arms around his waist, supporting him and kissed the top of his silver haired head affectionately. "Here, you should sit." He set him down on the bench opposite to the door. Gokudera complied easily, but sprung back when Yamamoto dropped to his knees and began nuzzling through the expanse of ruffles between his legs while holding his pale legs open.
"W-what are you—"
And then he licked him right where his smooth leg met his underwear line.
Releasing a breathy moan, Gokudera barely possessed the energy to fight back any more.
Yamamoto's teeth tugged at his briefs and pulled them down, dragging the fabric against his insanely sensitive member. Eyes roaming with interest, he licked at the sticky fabic, "Mm…you're already so wet. You must be feeling really good right now."
His large, baseball-trained hands caressed his theighs and occasionally pinched at the skin around his penis, sending jolts of pleasure through his body.
"Ya-yamamoto!" Gokudera's eyes squeezed shut while he anticipated the pleasure he knew his partner was eager to give. His body arched instinctively, inching closer to the course of pleasure while he shamelessly held the rullfy skirt and petticoat up and spread his legs open wide as he silently demanded Yamamoto's services.
Reaching upward, Yamamoto planted a gentle kiss on his quivering lips and began by gently stroking his tip.
"I want to make you feel good…so don't hold back okay?"
Nodding quickly, Gokudera blushed as he practically lifted his hips from his seated position in order to make harsher contact with Yamamoto's heated touch.
When Yamamoto retrned to his kneeling position, he made no chance for Gokudera to recover. He licked the underside of his now-leaking cock and spread the salty pre-cum with his tongue, all over his shaft until it was thouroughly covered. In turn, Gokudera writhed and squeezed the skirt he was holding to hold in his erotic screams.
Travelling even lower, Gokudera let out a low, throaty moan when he felt familiar fingers begin to probe at his ass, easing themselves into the hot cavern and stretching him out for an even larger capacity.
But when he felt Yamamoto's tongue inside of him, just squeezing the skirt was no longer enough to control his voice. "Mm—Ah! T-Takeshi!"
"I love you Gokudera…I love you so much."
"D-dumbass." Covering his face with his arms and blushing bright red at the words, Gokudera mumbled, "I-I love you too. Shut up."
When Gokudera was bent over, the view was almost too much for Yamamoto to bear. The dress, wrinkled and mussed hung off one shoulder while skirt was lifted over his waist, revealing the wet nether regions of Gokudera's squirming, yearning body.
"You look so good right now…"
Hiding his face, Gokudera shot back, "W-whose fault is it? Hurry up and take responsibility!"
Grinning, Yamamoto removed his pants and for the next hour or so, responsibility was taken.