Yeah... Everything is in the title...

Enjoy!

Unnecessary Stuff

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Voooi, you stupid! Look where you're putting your fucking hands!" Squalo yelled when they came in the shop.

"Ah… Ah. Sorry, Squalo." Yamamoto smiled and bowed his head to apologize. This is actually all the teenage boy could do with the taller swordsman leaning on his shoulder. His face was contorted in pain, his hair hiding half of it, and his clothes dirtied with dust.

The day had begun quite nicely, though.

Squalo arrived the previous day in Japan to take care of some "special job" for the Varia and, his mission over, decided to stop by Namimori to check out how his idiotic student was doing.

Takeshi was very happy to see the silver haired man. It wasn't something he could do everyday, even if, from time to time, the swordsman would appear suddenly to tutor him. Plus school was over and he had so much free time he was starting to get bored. So it didn't matter that Squalo exploded the door to his father's restaurant, practically dragged him by his collar to the woods, and started training him (read: beating the hell out of him) until, when evening came, there was nothing more left of the boy but a barely standing pack of aching limbs. It didn't matter because, in spite of everything, the boy was happy to see his master. A candid masochist, indeed.

But then came the tragedy: at the height of the hellish training, Squalo, miscalculating a dangerous attack, slipped, twisted his ankle, and gave Yamamoto the first occasion to hit him on the ribs.

…

"It hurts! Walk slower, damn brat!"

"Aye, aye."

"Shut up! And don't 'aye, aye' me, you shitty… Ow!"

"Squalo, you should calm down."

"Don't fucking – ouch! – tell me – ouch! – what to do – ouch!"

And that was only to bring him upstairs. Takeshi sighed when he could finally drop Squalo flat on his bed. The latter whimpered when his face made contact with the pillow.

"Now rest a bit." The boy grinned. "Tomorrow you'll be okay for sure!"

The older man turned back – in a The Exorcist style – to glare deadly at him. "That's why I say you're a stupid brat." He hissed. "You broke my motherfucking ribs! How the fuck is it supposed to be healed by tomorrow?"

"My, my. You're exaggerating. I'm sure it isn't as serious as broken ribs… Let me see."

And, as gently as he could, he slowly took off Squalo's shirt (he left his Varia uniform at his hotel), exposing the swordsman's bare back to fresh air. There, on his left side, there was a huge, red-blue hematoma, but apart from that, nothing serious.

However, as a matter of fact, the youth didn't give a damn about it. He was too captivated by the vision of Squalo half-naked, face all flushed, defenseless (or no, not really. Squalo was never totally defenseless), and his stunning features torn by pain. It wasn't the first time he saw the swordsman's bare skin. Before, he had already seen him after shower, with his long hair all wet, sticking to his gracious neck and thin chest, and as an only outfit a towel scarcely hanging at his waist. That sight would always have the same result on the teenage boy, or more exactly on a precise part of said teenage boy's body…

Yamamoto breathed deeply. "See? It's only a bruise. Nothing you should worry about."

"Voi, since when are you a doctor?" Squalo brooded.

"All right. If it hurts this much, maybe I should put some pomade on it…" He got up and took a tube on his desk. Then, pouring a generous amount of its contain in his hand, "I often use this after baseball training. Now, don't move…"

Squalo shivered when he felt the cold cream making contact with his skin. Yamamoto started spreading the pomade around the contusion, using his fingers to apply a light pressure on it. It didn't look to hurt the silver haired man, so the younger one kept on massaging him. At that point, it wasn't only the bruise but also the skin around it. Takeshi was pressing on stiff spots and knots, sliding his hands on the shoulderblades, on the backbone, the lower back, until…

"Aan!" Squalo whined, all of a sudden, his cheeks in a deeper shade of red.

"Ah? What's wrong?" Takeshi asked, afraid he had pressed to hard.

"Voi! No-nothing! Just don't do unnecessary stuff!"

Unnecessary stuff? Yamamoto raised an eyebrow, puzzled, but in the end resumed his movements.

It didn't last long, though, until Squalo whined again. Now, that was weird. All the younger swordsman did was just massaging the older one's velvet back, so it shouldn't…

'Ah!' He realized. 'Is it possible that he's sensitive here?'

And he lightly rubbed at the erogenous zone again, once more eliciting whining from the swordsman beneath him. Yamamoto couldn't stop anymore. He kept on rubbing, pressing caressing the delicate skin, and, as a reward, listening to the soft moans Squalo couldn't suppress from his mouth.

At that moment, Squalo was arching his back, panting and resting his weight on his elbows, his ass sticking up. Seeing him like that, Yamamoto got an idea, with no doubt the naughtiest and most cunning he had in his entire life.

"Hey, Squalo." He kneeled on the bed, right behind the silverette, and whispered against a reddened ear. "Your ankle hurts too, doesn't it? I'll put pomade on it. Can you remove your pants?"

Squalo looked at him and, Jesus, the look the greyish orbs cast on him only turned him on more: something between annoyance, impatience… and yearn.

The taller man didn't say a word. He unexpectedly agreed and unbuttoned his pants before pulling them down, leisurely, lustfully. Yamamoto couldn't detach his eyes from his long, slender legs, his creamy thighs… The underwear was the only thing that avoided him to appreciate the swordsman's undressed body in all its glory.

Oh, but for now it was already great.

Pouring white cream on Squalo's leg, the teenage boy's hands started squeezing it, and, slowly, slowly, reached the silvered haired man's soft thighs. Takeshi used both hands to stroke at them, right before moving to fondle at the firm ass.

"Ha!... ha… Mmh…" Squalo moaned louder.

The boy inserted a finger under the waistband, then a hand. It caressed the cold flesh of Squalo's butt, gripping hard, the other hand still caressing the satin-smooth thigh.

"Crap." The boy cursed when the aching in his trousers brought him back from his dizziness. "Squalo…"

He pulled his erection out and casually stuck it between Squalo's thighs. He clearly felt the taller swordsman's arousal twitch under the fabric when he did it.

"Kh… Ngh!" The silver haired man was now grinding against Yamamoto.

That vision was too much for the teenager: the most beautiful person he had met in his life was there, whimpering right under him, in his bed, naked, and turned on to no hell. The silvery mane was spreading prettily on the pillow, on the sheets, waving gracefully as Squalo was grinding with Yamamoto. Never once in his life he would have imagined such a wonder.

But the older swordsman was getting impatient. He had slipped his hand in his underclothes and was jerking off for release. His precum soon started to ooze and pour on Takeshi's hot flesh, mixing with his own and making their movements slick.

"Fuck." It was Squalo's turn to cuss. "Ah… Aan… Fuck!..."

Yamamoto finally left the middle of the silverette's thighs to use his ass instead. He pulled Squalo's underwear down to the knees. One second later the piece of clothes was already lying on the ground. The taller man hissed when his engorged flesh was at long last released from its restraint. Takeshi then let his red and hard shaft slide between Squalo's butt cheeks and, like that, pressed them together to squeeze his arousal.

"Ha! Nm… Fuck… Aan…" Squalo couldn't help but whine at the feeling of the hardness pressing, sliding, grinding against his ass. His face was gorgeous: his expression always serious or showing annoyance, now it was betraying lust and need. His eyes were teary, as if he wanted so much to come it was painful, his ass bucking against the boy's molten member. Smiling at him, the teenage boy pumped at the dear eagerness of the silver head. "Yamamoto… Aa! Yamamoto!"

Hearing that broken voice moaning his name in desire…

"Squalo!… I'm… I'm coming…" Yamamoto stuttered while thrusting faster between the semen coated cheeks.

"Aa…Ah!"

They both screamed when they released themselves. Takeshi spilled his seed all over the silver haired swordsman's back, soiling the flawless skin. Under him, Squalo still was shivering from the orgasm's aftermath. The sight of the swordsman sprawling there, legs wide open and, this time, completely naked and with cum all over him, still was tempting. Takeshi gave few last strokes to his half hard penis, spurting out the last proves of his climax, then let himself fall next to Squalo. The bed was small so he had to press against his master.

'Oh,' Takeshi pondered after a while. 'Good thing dad won't be back before tomorrow.'

Yamamoto was tired, but he didn't want to sleep. He knew Squalo would have to go within few hours. He cuddled the silver head.

"Hey, Squalo…"

"What?.." The latter answered without looking at the youth. "I want to sleep."

"Next time, can you let me…"

"Ah? What did you say?" Squalo finally looked at him. His features were back to normal, eyebrows all frowned and all. Anyway, it didn't discourage the teenager. The boy hugged him and placed a noisy kiss on the blushing swordsman's cheek.

"Next time, let me come inside you!"

"Voi, fuck off!"

R&R please! ^^