"C'mon, stop making that face."
Even as he chided Barnaby for outright pouting, Kotetsu couldn't help but think of how he sort of liked the way the blond looked like this – lips downturned, lower lip jutting just a bit as he pointedly refused to look at Kotetsu and instead folded his arms tightly over his chest. It wasn't often that he managed to fluster Barnaby, but apparently, when it came to dressing him up in something of his choosing, that was a good way to start.
In this case, it was old yukata, and Kotetsu had forced him into it on a whim. Protests abounded, but Kotetsu for once put his foot down – didn't he oblige Barnaby on a dozen and a half things daily? Besides, he'd look cute. The compliment had seemed to assuage him somewhat, even though now Barnaby was fuming at him while draped in deep, dark green.
Why didn't he wear green more often? Kotetsu couldn't help but muse as his fingers plucked at the sash binding the material effectively to Barnaby's waist. It was a lovely compliment to the sharpness of his gaze, the paleness of his skin – hell, it even brought out more of the platinum highlights in his hair that were normally missed. The scent of dusty cloth and old laundry soap was actually kind of nice, too, especially when mixed with Barnaby's own fresh, light cologne.
He liked the way it swung along Barnaby's legs, tracing the leanness of them and swishing and even clinging a bit whenever he shifted uncomfortable. Cute, yes. Also, incredibly attractive. He wished he could reach out and tug Barnaby's hair up into a little ponytail of sorts, all to get his curls off of his neck and leave it for his perusal…
Ah, his thoughts were wandering too much, and Kotetsu didn't even care.
Lurching forward, he relished the startled near-squawk that tore from Barnaby's throat when Kotetsu's hands fell upon him – shoving up the folds of fabric as he firmly pressed the blond back into the wall. His lips pressed to the arc of his throat, feeling the hard swallow and bob of his adam's apple, and Kotetsu grinned, teeth nipping softly into the tender, pale flesh.
"This wasn't part of the deal," was the breathy exhale to follow, and Kotetsu realized that was far from a complaint.
"You'll get over it."
Kotetsu's hand wriggled up one pale thigh – stroking, kneading the lean muscle and enjoying every sigh and bitten back groan that pulled from Barnaby's lips. He glanced up, watching Barnaby sink his teeth into his lower lip, biting it in an attempt to keep his voice and reactions at bay – an impossible thing, when Kotetsu's fingers finally dragged up along his cock, calloused digits squeezing in a slow, teasing stroke.
When it came down to it, he really did know Barnaby like the back of his own hand. He loved the way Barnaby sagged back, spread his legs and dug his fingers hard enough to maybe chip paint from the wall itself. Kotetsu didn't care about that. All he cared about was how Barnaby gasped and shuddered as he fucked Kotetsu's fist, hissing as Kotetsu drew his hand away only to slicken it with his own saliva and drag it along his cock once more – giving him a sort of achingly satisfying friction to shove his hips up into.
Barnaby came with a ragged groan, reaching out blindly to sink his nails into Kotetsu's back as his hips ground up in languid circles into one strong hand, drawing out his release for as long as possible. The yukata hung off of his shoulders in a messy splay now, bunched up along his hips and leaving him look like some wanton harlot more than any semblance of a King of Heroes.
"Next time," Barnaby's snide, albeit breathless retort followed, "I'll wear thigh highs underneath."
Kotetsu just barely resisted jumping him all over again.