Title: Slow Dance
Pairings: Yamamoto/Gokudera
Summary: In which a good day leaves Gokudera in a good mood.
Notes: Adult for smut. Future fic, set some years after All or Nothing, though it can be read independently of that one. 2910 words.

Slow Dance

It had been a good day. A really good day, in fact, one that had involved simultaneously spoking Giorgio Barassi's wheel, confounding the Pozzo Nero's schemes in the north, and advancing the Vongola's interests in Messina in one fell swoop. And the satisfaction of getting to do that didn't even include the day's personal gratifications, which included but were not limited to the Tenth having verbally eviscerated Giorgio Barassi when the man had tried to insinuate something—Hayato wasn't even sure what, since he'd been preoccupied at the time and Barassi never had been the articulate sort, but whatever it had been had pissed Tsuna off. He'd gotten pretty good at delivering smackdowns that could make people's heads spin. The best part was how they never did see it coming, because everyone knew that the Vongola Tenth was so very polite and soft-spoken. (Hayato had heard people who'd received one of Tsuna's dressing-downs wish, wistfully, that the Vongola Tenth would adopt the more traditional method of dealing with offenders by shooting them, since that was less painful. He had chosen not to share that with Tsuna.)

So, yeah. A good day all around. Hayato felt pretty pleased with it, not least because he'd helped engineer a good bit of it, pleased enough to permit himself a few little bouncing steps of satisfaction at the end of it, when he was alone and couldn't quite contain his glee any longer.

Or not quite alone; Takeshi moved on cat feet, the big lummox, and was standing there grinning when Hayato executed the final spin and shimmy of his hips. He scared about ten years off Hayato's life, too, which Hayato told him about when he'd gotten over the initial shock of seeing Takeshi leaning in the door and watching him. "What the hell?" he complained. "You can't go sneaking up on people like that, it's rude." And please God that Takeshi would not say a word about the dancing.

Naturally, the first words out of Takeshi's mouth as he came away from the door were, "But then I wouldn't have gotten to see you dancing."

Hayato elected to focus on the fact that he hadn't heard Takeshi even come in instead of how warm his face felt. "I thought you were going to hit the dojo before coming home."

Takeshi lifted a shoulder as he breezed past, heading for the sound system that occupied pride of place in the living room. "I did. What time do you think it is?"

Hayato turned his wrist up and frowned at what his watch told him. "It can't actually be that late." Where had the time gone? Had he really spent that long tidying away the Barassi and Pozzo Nero files? Jesus. But Takeshi's hair was damp and the hands on his watch were pointing to nearly seven, so perhaps he had. "Jesus."

"Mm." Takeshi found whatever it was he was looking for and hit play; Hayato tried not to make a face, because he was pretty sure Takeshi had been sabotaging the iPod with his own music again. It wouldn't have been so bad if only he'd had a modicum of taste. But that would have been too easy, so Hayato braced himself for whatever round of sugary pop Takeshi had found to torment him with this time. It didn't immediately seem awful—it was something slow and kind of jazzy, free of vocals—and Takeshi's smile when he turned away from fiddling with the volume wasn't from his repertoire of teasing smiles. Hayato relaxed again. "Well, you get caught up in things really easily."

That was true enough and Hayato admitted it. Then he raised an eyebrow when Takeshi came over to him, sliding right into his personal space without so much as a by-your-leave and curling his hands around Hayato's hips. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Takeshi shifted against him, swaying with, yeah, the beat of the music.

"Are you still stuck in junior high or something?" Hayato asked. "Besides mentally, I mean?"

"So what if I am?" Takeshi pressed closer, making it pretty much a necessary survival strategy for Hayato to settle his arms around Takeshi's shoulders lest Takeshi knock him over. "C'mon, dance with me."

"This isn't really dancing." The grumbling was for form's sake and because it was true: swaying back and forth in a vaguely rhythmical fashion wasn't dancing. He let Takeshi pull him closer anyway, because hell, it had been a good day and he was in a good mood, and whatever it was Takeshi had put on wasn't actually assaulting his eardrums.

"It's nice, though, isn't it?" Takeshi wound his arms around Hayato, fitting their bodies together.

Hayato rested his chin against Takeshi's shoulder, smelling the clean scent of soap on Takeshi's skin. "Guess it's not horrible."

Takeshi laughed and turned his face to press his lips against Hayato's jaw. "I really love you, you know that? Especially when you're pretending to be cranky."

"First," Hayato said, striving for as much irritation as he could, "I am a grown man, and I'll thank you not to describe me using words best applied to toddlers. Second, who said I was pretending?"

It was hopeless, of course, and he knew it. Sure enough, Takeshi laughed again and kissed the spot under Hayato's ear that made his breath hitch every damn time. "I know when you're pretending."

The confident way he said it should have just pissed Hayato off, but it put something like a shiver in the pit of his stomach instead. "No one likes a know-it-all," he said, and felt the way Takeshi's lips curved against his skin. "Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Takeshi kissed the spot under his ear again. Hayato closed his eyes, bit down on the sound he wanted to make, and focused on the strains of the music and the slow shift of their bodies swaying back and forth instead. That wasn't going to do much to stave off the long-term reaction that his hindbrain was having to the smell of Takeshi's skin and the proximity of his body, but hell, the fact that he still reacted to Takeshi like a teenager wasn't anything new.

Takeshi kept going, nuzzling the side of Hayato's throat and mouthing the point of his jaw. If he had a method in mind for his process, Hayato didn't know what it might have been, because Takeshi kissed his throat and then traced his tongue along Hayato's jaw before nibbling on the shell of his ear. Maybe the end was the method; God knew that Takeshi was perfectly familiar with all the things that made Hayato just a little crazy. He wasn't shy about exploiting each of them until Hayato was leaning against him, cock heavy and pressing against Takeshi's hip, while the music wound around and around them. Takeshi's own erection was pushing against him in turn, so when the music finally shifted to a track with a faster tempo and Takeshi was raising what Hayato suspected was going to be a series of marks down his throat, he sank his fingers into Takeshi's hair and said, "Enough dancing already. Take me to bed."

Takeshi reached a hand down between them. Hayato sighed and injected all the authority he could into his voice. "Bed. I'm not sending this suit to the cleaners, too."

"Aw." Takeshi raised his head to deliver Disappointed Puppy Look #6, though the effect was marred by the smile he was fighting. "But—"

"Bed." Hayato untangled himself from Takeshi to emphasize how seriously he meant it, because there were only so many suits he was willing to sacrifice to Takeshi's thing for half-naked sex, and he liked the suit he was wearing. He headed for the bedroom and trusted Takeshi to follow as he shrugged his way out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. He peeled out of his slacks while he was at of it and they were still safe.

He managed it just in time, too; Takeshi caught up with him as he draped the slacks across the chair. His hands were warm on Hayato's hips, even through his boxers. Hayato relaxed and let him do it since there wasn't too much damage that even Takeshi could do to a shirt. He leaned his head back against Takeshi's shoulder and sighed as Takeshi ran those long fingers of his over Hayato's stomach and cupped the front of his boxers, rubbing his cock through them. That felt good; Hayato said so, breath coming shorter as Takeshi fondled him. Takeshi made a pleased sound—it was funny how a man who talked so much could go so nonverbal in the bedroom—and got busy with Hayato's tie and shirt, undoing them and running his hand up Hayato's chest. Hayato sighed, leaning against the solid body behind him and luxuriating in the slow, possessive movement of Takeshi's hands. "Bed," he said after a time, since Takeshi was fully capable of standing there and fisting him off.

As good as that could be, he wanted a little more from his evening that that.

"Okay." Takeshi's voice had gone low, just a little raspy. Hayato smiled and stepped away from Takeshi's hands to divest himself of the rest of his clothes. He heard the rustle of Takeshi's clothes hitting—yes, the floor, because Takeshi never had caught on to the uses and purpose of a laundry hamper.

Hayato forgave him for it, because Takeshi had already stretched out in bed by the time he'd dropped his own clothes in the hamper and turned back to him. He was lounging against the sheets, watching Hayato and touching himself. Hayato felt his mouth run dry. "Jesus," he said. "Are you starting without me?"

Takeshi slid his fingers up and down his cock, eyes fixed on Hayato. "No. Just watching you."

It was Takeshi's casual transparency that still got Hayato every time. He crossed the floor to the bed swiftly and climbed onto it, throwing a knee over Takeshi's hips to straddle him. Takeshi made a pleased sound and curved a hand around his nape when Hayato bent down to kiss him.

After a moment, Hayato lifted his head to look at Takeshi. "I love you." Sometimes he worried that he didn't say it often enough, though Takeshi never seemed to worry about that kind of thing much. He said it was clear enough already. Maybe it was, Hayato didn't know, but he did know that Takeshi still went extra-soft and gooey whenever he actually summoned up the words themselves. So maybe it did matter, at least a little bit, judging by the way Takeshi was looking at him now, like Hayato was still the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

Well, anyway. Hayato cleared his throat and stroked his hands over Takeshi's chest as he bent to kiss him again. Takeshi hummed against his mouth and settled his hands on Hayato's hips, fitting his thumbs into the hollows of them and stroking them back and forth. Hayato couldn't help appreciating the easy way Takeshi could span his hips like that to splay long fingers against his ass, which he did now, but he huffed against Takeshi's mouth when it seemed like Takeshi was content just to cradle his hips. Hayato shifted against him, fitting himself against Takeshi and rolling their hips together. That felt so good that he did it again, savoring the way Takeshi sighed under him.

He liked the way it felt to kneel across Takeshi like this, feeling the stretch in his thighs and the solid bulk of Takeshi between them, and the way Takeshi took the hint and stretched a long arm over to the bedside table for the lube. When Takeshi slid slick fingers against him, sinking them into him to open him up, Hayato sighed and flexed against the steady pressure of them. Takeshi watched him, eyes intent, working him slowly. When he pressed his fingers deeper, Hayato groaned. "Yeah?" Takeshi asked, twisting his fingers just so and sending a ripple of pleasure up Hayato's spine.

"Yeah," Hayato said, breathless. "Feels good." But other things were going to feel better. He balanced himself against Takeshi's chest and reached for the lube himself, which wasn't as easy a maneuver for him, and involved a bit more groping for the bottle that was almost, but not quite, out of reach. The aggravation was worth it for the sound Takeshi made when Hayato smoothed slick fingers over his cock. Takeshi's eyes slipped closed when Hayato wrapped his fingers around him, pleasure sweeping his face clean of anything else. Hayato stroked him slowly, liking the sight of him like this, bare and open and wanting.

Then Takeshi opened his eyes again; they were dark. "Hayato..."

"Yeah," Hayato said. Takeshi smiled and ran his hands over Hayato's hips, lifting him, and okay, Hayato couldn't exactly regret the fact that Takeshi had found out that being manhandled got him a little hot, not when this was the result. He settled himself over Takeshi, sinking down on his cock and groaning with the stretch of it filling him up. Takeshi groaned too, watching him hungrily as he played his fingers over Hayato's ass. Hayato let his own weight bear him all the way down, panting with how good it felt, and spread his hands against Takeshi's chest. "You like watching?" he asked.

He smiled when Takeshi caught his meaning and his eyes flared hotter. "Yeah..."

"Then watch me." Hayato lifted himself slowly, balancing himself over Takeshi's hips and rocking himself down again, groaning with the way Takeshi's cock felt as he worked himself up and down it. Takeshi wet his lips, following his every movement with avid interest, and set his hands on Hayato's hips to brace him. His hands were warm; Hayato smiled at how they felt, heavy against muscles already beginning to burn with the way he was moving. "Yeah?" he asked, covering Takeshi's hands with his own, letting Takeshi keep his balance for him.

Takeshi nodded, looking almost transfixed by the way Hayato was riding him. "God, yeah..."

It would have been difficult not to let the reverence in Takeshi's voice go to his head, so Hayato didn't bother trying. He tucked that little satisfaction away and ground down against Takeshi, gasping a little with it. "Good," he said, rocking against Takeshi as the heat coiled around him, building with each slow shift of his hips, until he wasn't sure either of them could stand much more. Takeshi was drawn taut under him, skin gleaming with sweat and lips parted for his groans, and Hayato's throat was dry with panting and his thighs were trembling with strain. "Now," he said, though he didn't really need to get Takeshi's attention, not when Takeshi's eyes were still fixed on him. Hayato smiled at the way Takeshi made an open, breathless sound and lifted a hand away from Takeshi's to wrap it around his cock, stroking himself and groaning.

The heat flared in Takeshi's eyes; he tightened his hands on Hayato's hips and drove his hips up to meet Hayato's. Hayato groaned again with the way that sent pleasure rocketing up his spine. He tightened his fingers around his cock, stroking himself hard as Takeshi planted his feet wider and fucked him, till the tension building through him finally broke him open. He caught himself over Takeshi as pleasure shook him with long, sweet shudders that left him moaning. Takeshi bucked under him, hips driving against him with short, sharp jerks that sent aftershocks running up Hayato's spine, before Takeshi subsided under him, breathless.

Takeshi was the first to recover himself afterwards, of course; he claimed it was the healthy living and exercise that allowed it. Hayato personally suspected that Takeshi was just a freak. He had made his peace with that possibility, though, since it meant that Takeshi was the one who untangled them and dealt with the little practicalities of cleaning up while he was still floating in the afterglow. Besides, he reasoned, lounging against the pillows, in this particular case, he had done most of the heavy lifting.

"Mm," he said, stretching languorously when Takeshi finally got them rearranged to his satisfaction. "That was good." He snaked an arm around Takeshi and pulled him closer for a kiss.

Takeshi laughed and let him do it. "It was," he agreed, once Hayato had gotten his fill of Takeshi's mouth. He smiled, eyes crinkling. "In a good mood tonight, huh?"

Hayato snorted. "How'd you guess?"

"Might have been the happy dance from before that tipped me off."

At least there wasn't any malice in Takeshi's smile, though there might have been a hint of his evil sense of humor, which suggested that Hayato was probably going to hear about that for a while to come, or at least until he got tired enough of it to stuff a stick of dynamite someplace sensitive. Hayato made a face at him. "Shut up. It was a good day, all right?"

Takeshi grinned. "Yeah, it really was, wasn't it?" He ran his fingers through Hayato's hair. "You kicked some ass today."

Hayato sniffed. "Well, naturally." Takeshi laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, which put an end to the conversation for the time being.

All things considered, it looked like being a pretty good night, too.

end

Comments are always lovely!