It's been nearly two months since a malfunction with the The Ten Year Bazooka left him stranded in your time, and your Gokudera stranded in his. In the back of your mind you hoped that your Gokudera was faring far better than you were.
It wasn't so bad most days. You managed to stay out of each others way for the most part, and on the days when Gokudera was in good mood you'd spar and if you were feeling generous you'd even let him win just to see the gleam of childish victory in his eyes. When he was in a really good mood he'd call you an idiot and a jock and you'd both laugh and it would be almost like your Gokudera was there laughing with you.
All of the other days the tension ran thick between the two of you and he stalked around the base, sullen and looking for a fight. On those days the way his eyes followed you as you went about your usual routine unnerved you. There were questions in those eyes that you knew he wanted you to answer, but you didnt because you knew it would be better for him to find the answers for himself. Better for him and for your past self, you told yourself. You were telling yourself a lot lately.
The weeks pass slowly and Gokudera spends most of his time in his office pouring over schematics of the Bazooka and over Gianini's notes to see if he could find a loophole that would send himself home. He never voices it but you knew he was anxious to get back to his beloved Tenth and deep in the back of your heart you hope to your younger self as well. Not that you were anxious to get rid of him by any means, but you were also anxious to see your partner and lover again.
One night you sit on the edge of his desk as he works, watching him as he shoves his glasses irritably up his nose and scribbles formulas you'll never comprehend into the margins of a notebook. You smile as you watch him, comparing him to the boy that punched you in the jaw a few years ago and the man you know now. If sweet was a word that could be roughly applied to Gokudera, you'd have called him that when he showed up a few years ago, much more so than your current up-to-date version or this boy-man sitting in front of you. This creature is leaner and more angular. He nearly matches you in height now, another year or two and he'll pass you up and remind you nearly every day and you can't supress the laugh that comes with the memory.
"What are you laughing at, idiot?" He asks, glaring at you and narrowing his eyes in a way that says 'go away if you dont have anything constructive to add'. You smile and shake your head and watch his brows knit together even tighter and when you lean over the desk to kiss him you tell yourself it's because he's cute and looks so much like your Gokudera in that moment and not because you're lonely.
He's mostly passive and you're the only one doing most of the actual kissing. You wonder if you've gotten your timeline wrong and taken his first kiss from your younger self, but he's eighteen now and you're not old enough for your memory to be slipping and you remember the two of you fooling around at least a handful of times by then. Those were after he pulled his head out of his ass and realized that under all the baseball and mens clothing passed down from your Dad that you were a girl and even moreso you were an emotionally inept girl that wanted his attention.
He doesn't really kiss you back but he doesn't stop you so you urge his mouth open with yours and slip your tongue in, hoping for reaction and feeling quite pleased with yourself when that seems to jerk him out of his paralysis and he kisses you back feverishly in a way that tells you that he's probably been feeling the same way that you have. At that point you decide it's a pretty good time to let your brain shut down and you slide off the edge of the desk, mouths still hinged together and pull him up by the collar of his shirt. Walking backward, you guide him across the room until the backs of your knees hit the couch shoved into the corner of the cramped room and you let him go to lay down, watching as he stands above you, staring dumbly. You let him look for a few moments, enjoying his dumbfounded expression before you reach for his hand and pull him over you and he follows obediently.
The next few minutes pass in a hot and hazy blur of kisses. Your hands slip under his shirt and stroke along the curve of Gokudera's spine as his own hands slide down to your waist and he fingers the hem of your shirt questioningly. You're probably already going to Hell, you decide, so you take the initiative for him and pry your mouth from his, sitting up enough to rip your shirt off over your head and reach around your back to unfasten your bra and slide it down your arms and drop it off the edge of the couch to the floor. He chokes and makes a noise in the back of this throat but doesn't even bother to hesitate as he slides his hands up over your breasts and cups them in his palms, giving them a squeeze. Typical teenager, you lament, as he mouths his way down your neck and chest and when he replaces his hand with his mouth over your nipple you console yourself with the fact that in time he would get much better at this. Much. Better.
Not that you're complaining because every stroke of his tongue over your nipples sends a shock straight between your thighs and his hands are stroking over you, making you feel beautiful and sexy and delicate in a way only he knows how to and you're sure he doesn't even know he's doing it.
Gokudera is hard against your thigh and you want him so badly, you're so turned on that you could scream but you tell yourself that it would be wrong. You don't want to take this moment away from your past self and your own Gokudera has earned this, so maybe you shouldnt give it away so freely. You're both treading on familiar ground right now and that's fine, but new discoveries should be kept for their appropriate times, you decide.
After what feels like an eternity of him tongue bathing your chest and sucking your nipples, you slip your thigh between his and slide your hands down the length of his back to settle on his hips, pressing and urging him on. Gokudera complies easily and ruts against your thigh in quick, desperate thrusts as he moans his pleasure against your skin. It doesn't take him long and you let him ride out the waves of his orgasm, holding him to you as his body jerks against yours again and again until he collapses, boneless and sated. You let him lay like that for a while, letting him come down and catch his breath before it's time for you to be the impatient one.
He kisses you slowly, sweetly and you whine into his mouth and his hands falter like he's unsure of what you want him to do. You take the guess work out of it for him and thread your fingers between his, resting his hand on your belly and sliding it slowly down and under the sweats you're wearing. He strokes his fingers tentatively over the damp material of your panties and you bite your lip to suppress a groan but you don't rush him. Finally, finally, he slides his long fingers underneath and strokes them into you. It's clumsy at first, touching you everywhere but where you really want to be touched but you let him explore for awhile and you're so wet that you're suprised there hasn't been a flood and you're kind of embarrassed because you're twenty-eight and he's eighteen and he shouldn't be having this kind of effect on your body.
Gokudera does effect you though and you're not sure you can take anymore teasing so you reach down and guide his hand, guiding his fingers to where you really really want them and moaning when he presses down gently on the spot he'd been searching for all along, rubbing it with agonizingly slow strokes. You moan and squirm under him and he takes the hint gets serious, lowering his mouth back to your breasts as his long pianist fingers do things between your thighs that make you curl your toes and cry out into the room. It doesn't take long and you're coming, clapping your thighs closed around his hand as your body jerks and you shake and shake and shake, arching off the couch.
When you're finally able to breathe and open your eyes Gokudera is still hovering over you with flushed cheeks and a softness in his eyes that's not usually there. At least not when he was still young. You sit up and right yourself, reaching for your discarded shirt and pulling it back on while he watches you.
He stands up when you do, following you to the door and you stop near his desk, glancing at the papers spread out on it and back to him. "Get some sleep." You say and lean in to kiss him one last time before you turn and slip through the door to head back to your room, hoping that the both of you will sleep easier than you had been the past few weeks.