"Kiss it and make it better?" Masayoshi asked softly, as Gotou closed the first-aid kit. He'd spoken so quietly that at first Gotou wasn't even sure he'd heard him speak, and instead spent the moment busying himself with the clean-up … but when he glanced up at Masayoshi, Masayoshi was very pointedly Not Looking In His Direction, staring studiously at the wall, flushed a darker shade than the ruined costume laying in a wrinkled pile on the floor.
Amazingly, Masayoshi always seemed to end up more banged up from the minor scuffles than any of the major ones. It was funny in its own way, once the blood was cleaned up and the bruises dealt with - tonight Gotou had scrubbed dried blood out of Masayoshi's hairline, put a few plasters on some cuts and frowned at the angry welts on his ribs - but Masayoshi had managed to escape this encounter largely unscathed, unlike his poor costume. Gotou took Masayoshi's hand in his own and cupped it, rubbing his thumb over Masayoshi's battered and scraped knuckles. Then he slowly and deliberately lifted Masayoshi's hand to his lips and kissed the broken skin.
Masayoshi's other hand curled into a fist on his knee, and the blush on his face intensified.
Physical affection was still so new, between them. Gotou rubbed the back of Masayoshi's hand with his thumb, and then lifted his hand and gently kissed the next knuckle; and the one following it. Once he had kissed all four, he turned over Masayoshi's hand, and kissed his palm.
Masayoshi's breathing picked up quickly, and Gotou glanced up. The flush had crept down to his chest - but he was at least looking at Gotou now, eyes gone half-lidded and hazy. Gotou rubbed Masayoshi's wrist, suddenly uncertain of himself, and smiled helplessly. "Better?"
The nod was quick - it almost seemed like Masayoshi had forgotten how words worked, but that was okay because Gotou was fighting down a blush to match Masayoshi's. He wasn't used to this, the way the affection came out sometimes scared him - he could text endearments until his thumbs fell off, but they went out into the aether, he didn't have to deal with the immediate responsiveness of Masayoshi's body.
"Maybe-" Masayoshi's tongue darted out to wet his lips, he was somehow meeting Gotou's eye still. "Just a little more?"
His head was head tilted suggestively - that could not be intentional, Masayoshi hadn't quite figured out sexy yet, but maybe he didn't need to - sitting on the edge of Gotou's bed in his boxers, how could he even imagine saying no to this-?
Gotou leaned forward, ran a hand through Masayoshi's sweaty and matted hair. Then he chastely kissed the bridge of Masayoshi's nose, over the plaster he had placed there. "You're injured," he said, when Masayoshi pouted at him.
He stood up - he'd sat on the table, lacking a chair to sit in front of Masayoshi and tend to his scrapes and bumps - and Masayoshi grabbed at him, got a hand in his shirt before he could step out of arm's range. Gotou looked down at him, surprised - Masayoshi was staring at his own hand, twisted in the material of Gotou's shirt. "Another kiss?" he asked hopefully.
Masayoshi had no idea how hard it was for Gotou to not bowl him over on the bed and straddle him - he ought to win awards for the level of self-restraint he was exhibiting right now. Gotou put his hand over Masayoshi's on his shirt, gently untangling it. "Just a kiss," he said out loud, more to remind himself than Masayoshi. Masayoshi turned up his face expectantly, and Gotou rested his hand gently on his jaw, cupping it and angling it just right so that he could lean forward and properly kiss him.
When this had first started, Masayoshi hadn't known the first thing about kissing. He would twist his head wrong, crack foreheads and bump noses and they would glare at each other, heads entirely too close before one of them would snicker and they'd try again - by now he'd had plenty of practice. Gotou breathed him in - sweat and musk, and Masayoshi made an inquisitive noise into his mouth.
Gotou lifted his head and Masayoshi licked his lips, hand still clutched tight in Gotou's shirt. "I'm not done," he complained when Gotou made to straighten, and he groaned and tried to cling at those last shards of his self-control.
"Masayoshi," Gotou said firmly. "You are hurt."
"Had worse," Masayoshi said, shrugging just one shoulder. "Just a few cuts and the bruises aren't any worse than some that you've given me."
Gotou went completely still at his words. Masayoshi tugged at his shirt and he barely felt it. "Gotou-san," he said in a low tone. "I like the bruises you give me."
Oh god Masayoshi, please stop talking.
Masayoshi kept tugging at his shirt, and Gotou realized suddenly that Masayoshi was trying to take it off of him. Oh hell, whatever. Gotou grabbed Masayoshi's hands, pulled them off of his shirt and then shucked it off himself. Masayoshi laughed delightedly and he grabbed at the waist of Gotou's jeans - but Gotou fended those hands off. "Not yet, not yet-"
He crawled onto the bed beside Masayoshi, and grabbed Masayoshi by the hair, twisting his head and kissing him deeply. If Masayoshi liked being manhandled, well - maybe he could accomodate that, just a little. Masayoshi made a keening noise into his mouth and they twisted together, Masayoshi falling back against the bed and pulling Gotou down on top of him.
Kissing was safe, even half-dressed on his bed - mouth to mouth he couldn't think of much of anything else, just Masayoshi here underneath him, warm and solid and strong despite the bandages and the cuts and the bruises. Gotou brushed his hair back and Masayoshi stuck his tongue out, and when Gotou leaned to kiss his forehead Masayoshi squirmed underneath him, twisted his head and bit the side of his neck.
Gotou jerked, surprised. "Ow!"
Masayoshi ran his tongue over the indentations of his teeth on Gotou's neck - he hadn't bit hard enough to break the skin, but all the same he bit Gotou. "You," Gotou gritted out, and Masayoshi flopped his head back and grinned at Gotou, licked his lips and said in a low voice; "Gotou-san is mine."
Fucking hell.