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Giyuu let the rough pads of his fingers glide along the sanded wood of the wall enclosing the Rengoku estate. He and Kyojuro had just come back from their mission up north. The estate lived on the outskirts of a medium-sized town, close to the Ubuyashiki mansion by at least a good few miles much like all the hashira housing. Kyojuro said it was the closest place they could stay on their way back to Ubuyashiki's, and Giyuu couldn't say he'd prefer sleeping in the forest much at all, even when he didn't feel like interacting with Kyojuro's family.
Giyuu let Kyojuro open the front door to the humble home, not stepping in until Kyojuro gave him a little shove to the back. Instantly, a younger version of the flame hashira-- somewhere in his teenage years-- came running from a hallway to the left. He cheered and jumped into Kyojuro's arms, welcoming him in. When he was on his feet again, he looked at Giyuu with the same bright eyes as his brother, encased in a softer face. He had a look that was almost stuck in permanent apology, but his smile was genuine.
Giyuu looked ahead, where, again, what just seemed like another version of Kyojuro sat turned out to the backyard, the shoji doors open to let a breeze in.
"Hello, father!" Kyojuro called.
The man grunted, not turning around. "Thought I heard you coming."
Giyuu couldn't see his face, but he could see that he was reading a book. His wide shoulders sat unevenly, maybe he'd stand about six feet tall. His hair wasn't as luscious as Kyojuro's fluffy mane but it was the same color, just scruffier. Giyuu wanted to see if their faces were the same too, but the man still wouldn't turn, even as Kyojuro walked them further into the living room.
"Father, I've brought a friend," Kyojuro announced. Something more hid under his words as well, a reminder to behave. The spirit of the house itself was tainted with some kind of grief. Giyuu didn't know if he'd be very comfortable there for the night.
"I don't feel like hosting a guest."
"You never do," Kyojuro laughed, "I do, though! He's the water pillar, Tomioka Giyuu. I wanted him to see the house and meet Senjuro."
Senjuro smiled. "I made some daifuku, if you two want some!"
"That sounds great. What about you, father?"
Finally, the man turned around just a bit, to quickly grumble out a 'no'. Giyuu was barely able to take note of anything about him, just that he scowled like a mountain lion. Kyorjuo's father went to turn around again, but the move was interrupted with a twitch, a double-take. The side of his face twitched, and Kyojuro's father's dissecting gaze which was, for a second, nothing but a somber hole of anger now ignited brightly upon seeing Giyuu, even if his mouth stayed firmly in a frown.
Giyuu's shoulders went rigid. He remembered that Kyojuro's father was once a pillar too, the same breathing technique and everything, younger than Urokodaki by a long shot but still within a similar time. He looked far from a disciplined hashira now, with his small bit of facial hair and his gruff attitude, but Giyuu still found it nerve-wracking to be in his presence.
"Giyuu, this is my dad, Shinjuro! You know he's a retired pillar."
Giyuu nodded before bowing to Shinjuro in respect. His hands clung to each other in front of his body, stance sturdy. He could feel the way he was being torn apart for inspection. Yet, Shinjuro didn't turn away in dissatisfaction or his previous lack of interest. Giyuu briefly wondered what he had been reading, but his mind traveled to more urgent thoughts like the way Shinjuro's yukata was rather loose in the chest. The gap of the clothing didn't do well at giving modesty to his sunkissed hair or the muscle under it.
Then, Kyojuro was clapping Giyuu on the back and shaking him from his stupor. "Let's all sit out here to eat, hm?" He pointed his other hand in the direction of the living room table near the doorway Shinjuro sat in. "I hope you don't go off to your room this time," Kyojuro said to his dad, "you don't even have to eat anything if you don't want, just stay out for a few minutes, please."
Shinjuro made an annoyed grunt at his son, but he turned his body fully towards the table. Senjuro came back out with a platter full of daifuku mochi. He carried a little jug of water with him, giving it to Kyojuro once they'd all taken their seats. Somehow, Giyuu ended up closest to the end of the table where Shinjuro sat. When urges got the best of him, he slowly swiveled his head from Kyojuro to his father. Contrasts and comparisons came easily with the lack of verbal distraction, like how Kyojuro had his father's defined jawline, but not its square nature, or how Shinjuro had sideburns where his hair grew in and Kyojuro's hairline stayed neat and symmetrical.
After taking a big bite of half his mochi, Kyojuro looked back at Shinjuro. "Tomioka was trained under Urokodaki," he said.
"That old man, huh? He was quite skilled."
"Yes, he is," Giyuu answered.
"You must be actually good at your job then." With the look he gave, it was clear that was some type of dig at his son.
"Kyojuro is actually more skilled than I am. He has more stamina and resolve than me."
"Oh, don't be humble!" Kyojuro beams, jabbing Giyuu with his elbow. Giyuu couldn't say he was surprised at Kyojuro's emotional endurance. "Tomioka actually created his own eleventh form of water breathing."
Shinjuro's eyes sparked up again for a moment, yet his body didn't jolt, he didn't move his face or pose at all. He was intensely sturdy, even if made up by a less-than-pristine appearance. "That's impressive. What is it?"
Giyuu tried not to think about his voice, low and husky, dry whisky and sawdust, but he'd already failed. He choked out his words, "Dead calm. It helps me focus on eliminating all attacks coming at me while not appearing to be moving in a haste."
Shinjuro hummed, crossing his arms as he looked over Giyuu, scanning from the top of his head to his feet politely tucked under his legs. The aged hair over Shinjuro's crossed forearms was a dirty-blond with a bit of darkened strands here and there. Giyuu wondered if Shinjuro still trained to look the way he did. Maybe he'd accumulated so much muscle in his prime that it had yet to shrivel, but more likely it was that he at least had some sort of activity, even if Kyojuro's concerns about his father's lethargy were true. Shinjuro looked at the food and extended his hand to beckon some, only at Giyuu, so Giyuu handed him a mochi.
He just kept staring at Giyuu. Even while he chewed, when Giyuu turned towards Kyojuro to listen to him talk, even with his book beside him. He kept on his stern expression the whole time, bushy eyebrows so used to that position that he probably had a line indented between them when resting his face. Giyuu tried not to let any of his looks bother him.
Shinjuro eventually motioned for another mochi, so Giyuu handed one over. His eyes roamed over Shinjuro's fingers.
At some point, it seemed that Senjuro had caught on to his father's odd habit. "Can you please stop staring and Tomioka-san? I don't want him to feel uncomfortable."
Shinjuro's head whipped in Senjuro's direction and Giyuu felt Kyojuro go rigid beside him. "Would you mind your business," he growled.
The room went silent for a good few seconds, with Giyuu feeling more and more like leaving, but then Shinjuro spoke to him, "You look like Ruka."
"Who is that?"
"My mom!" Kyojuro beamed. He patted Giyuu's shoulder. "I do agree."
Giyuu didn't know how to feel being compared to a dread woman, but if anything was evident, it's that this was a compliment... especially when coming from her husband. "That's... kind."
"Her hair had a warmer tone than yours."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry if I'm being a bother." It really didn't sound like he was sorry at all, more like he was forced to grit that through his teeth in the name of being civil. Giyuu almost found it funny.
"It's alright," he mumbled. He fidgeted with his hands in his lap before compulsively tucking a piece of hair behind it's ear, knowing it'd just fall into its usual shape again. Shinjuro followed the movement carefully, studying it.
"How many demons have you killed?" Shinjuro asked.
"I don't exactly know, but, more than a-hundred-fifty, a little over that."
Shinjuro's eyebrows raised in interest quickly and it just barely looked like the corner of his lip perked up. "So many," he praised. Then his eyes settled into something unreadable. "Why do you seem so nervous talking to me?"
Oh, that killed Giyuu. Did he have to announce it to everyone in the room, to Giyuu himself? Giyuu's hands instantly got ten times more clammy, and he hurriedly pressed his palms to his pant legs to wipe it off. "I... am honored to be talking to a former hashira. You are very worthy of respect, Mr. Rengoku." Maybe a decade ago, and if he was nice to his sons, but Giyuu didn't mind lying just a tad.
Shinjuro finally let his mouth quirk up then. He scratched at the side of his face before reverting back to his natural scowl.
Giyuu really, really didn't want to put a name to the feeling he was dealing with. He knew what it was, but saying it to himself and letting it rattle about in the confines of his head would likely give him an aneurism. He didn't want to feel like a perv at Kyojuro's house, not around his father.
"So, when did you become a hashira, then?" Shinjuro asked.
Giyuu had to clear his throat, swallow down whatever sticky clusters were blocking the rest of his normal thoughts. "Around sixteen."
"When did you pass final selection?"
The urge to reply with 'I didn't', which is what he usually wanted to say, didn't find its way out of his mouth this time. Despite knowing it was filthy to lie about 'passing' when he'd only gotten lucky, Giyuu gave an answer he thought would impress Shinjuro. He wanted to feel like he deserved to be there. "When I was thirteen."
"How nice," the man rumbled low in his throat. Giyuu found warmth spread in him at the fond memory of an old, scraggly cat he'd made friends with in a rainy village, with gray hairs around its whiskers. It'd hissed at everyone else that tried to pet it, and Giyuu hadn't yet had another cat take a liking to him.
Giyuu looked back at Kyojuro again to find him grinning. Kyojuro spoke through a mouth full of mochi, "I'm glad you're talking with Tomioka! Maybe you can be friends!"
Shinjuro waved his son off. "Whatever."
He groaned as he stood from his place, uncaring toward how his fundoshi was flashed. Giyuu was definitely the only one to actually notice it. Shinjuro started walking off. "Tomioka can sleep here if he needs, I guess."
After he left and the plate of treats had been cleared, Senjuro and Kyojuro dragged Giyuu out to the back yard. At first they just wandered around, soaking up the sun and listening to the birds in the trees, then Kyojuro asked if Giyuu wanted to teach Senjuro some sword techniques. Senjuro's face instantly caved into something of shame and fear, and he stuttered to Giyuu that he wasn't any good at sword use and had tried more than he could count. Giyuu was more than understanding, but Kyojuro insisted that level of skill had nothing to do with it, that sparring with his brother was routine and he was happy to have Giyuu join in on it. Giyuu tried his best at similar encouragement. He only faced Senjuro for a small while before the boy sulked away and said he wanted to watch them both instead, so he sat in the shade while the two hashira battled. Giyuu was quite tired before they even started, but he didn't feel like saying no, and the happiness that Kyojuro had for entertaining his brother was something he didn't wish to crush. If he was in their home, he'd listened to what the Rengokus asked of him.
When the sun began to set, they went into the kitchen. Giyuu planted himself in the doorway and leaned against it as he watched them prepare vegetables. Now that they were working together at something Senjuro didn't seem insecure about, he matched his brother's soft smile and was able to talk lightheartedly. Kyojuro had the soul of a teacher, one who strived for passion over perfection. Giyuu almost wished he had Kyojuro in his life a little more often, maybe then he'd be warmed by his light.
While the brothers chatted some more, backs turned, Giyuu heard a door slide open behind him. He looked to the hallway closest to the kitchen and saw Shinjuro scratching his head before he opened his eyes to look at Giyuu. He was most definitely tipsy, which made sense from what Giyuu remembered being told about him.
Shinjuro's eyes did a quick but far from covert scan up and down Giyuu's body before he lazily started sauntering down to the left hall, likely to go to the bathroom. Giyuu made no outward reaction to him, keeping his own arms interlocked tightly together and his face neutral, but his gaze traced along Shinjuro's wide steps until he opened the bathroom door. This man was the epitome of lousiness and alcoholism, of bad fatherhood and time taking a tole on one's personality, yet... well, Giyuu couldn't say he'd be any better when he got older. This draw towards Shinjuro had him feeling guilty for Kyojuro's sake.
By the time Shinjuro was done in the bathroom, the oden soup was finished. Kyojuro caught his father just in time to tell him to eat with them. Shinjuro stopped near the kitchen and looked at the bowls being poured, then to Giyuu, who worked to keep his own eyes firmly on Shinjuro's face.
"You have to eat with us, since we have a guest!" Kyojuro insisted.
Shinjuro groaned, taking a hand and dragging it down his face before stumbling on his feet closer to Giyuu's side accidentally. "Fine."
He didn't help the three of them take bowls to the table, just took his chop sticks and spoon. Kyojuro sat next to Giyuu, and Shinjuro sat right across from him with Senjuro at his side. Kyojuro said a little prayer over their meal then encouraged them all to dig in. Giyuu would've been fine if some conversation erupted around him, even if he personally would remain silent, but nobody spoke. Only sounds of utensils in bowls and chewing filled the void. The air was uncomfortable, to say the least, yet it seemed that that was the most comfortable it could've been.
Giyuu looked up after taking slurps from the broth to see Shinjuro's eyes tracing the shape of his lips around the spoon, his own mouth still full of food but having stopped chewing. He flitted his gaze back to his own meal when he noticed that Giyuu stilled.
After a bit, Shinjuro was staring at him again, but this time it was Giyuu's hands which he followed. Suddenly, he plopped his elbow on the table, which got quite the jump from Kyojuro who asked about his father's manners. Shinjuro opened his hand and motioned. "Let me see your hands."
Giyuu hesitated, but ultimately slid his hand across the table, not lifting it into Shinjuro's open palm. Shinjuro took it anyway. His eyes skimmed over the outside, then flipped it over to study the lines on his palm and the pads of his fingers. Giyuu felt small in Shinjuro's grasp, his fingers not as long or thick, palms flatter.
Shinjuro hummed gruffly. "You have soft hands for a hashira, little too pure."
And Giyuu didn't know if that was true. He cared about his nails, but he knew his palms had calloses and his knuckles had scars. Once again, Kyojuro loudly asserted that his father shouldn't be rude to Giyuu, but Shinjuro waved him off completely. When Giyuu pulled back his hand and absentmindedly rubbed over it, retracing how Shinjuro's thumb had cascaded over a certain side, the man let out the faintest chuckle. It was impossible for Giyuu to be the only one to hear it, but he knew it was only intended for him. He felt hot, and hoped it was the soup they were eating that gave him a burning to his cheeks.
Shinjuro ate a bit more, but when he knew Giyuu was looking at him, he pinched the cloth of his yukata and fanned the loose fabric around his chest, looking elsewhere to pretend that it wasn't, again, just for Giyuu.
Shinjuro sat improperly, elbow on the table so he could hold up his head, back hunched over. Giyuu always sat straight in the presence of others. He'd gone rigid once boyhood was over. It felt wrong to be seen in a lazy moment. Shinjuro didn't seem to think that way. He'd given up on keeping himself together once Ruka died, evidently.
Giyuu finished right after Kyojuro. "Thank you for the meal, it was very well made."
"Thank you!" Kyojuro exclaimed. He grabbed Giyuu's bowl and put it in his own, still staying sat politely as he waited for everyone to finish.
Shinjuro looked up after his own bowl was emptied, sharp intent pointed at Giyuu, scheming. "Do you like to drink, Tomioka?"
"What?"
"What's your go-to alcohol?"
"Oh, I don't... I don't know."
"Well," Shinjuro lilted, "I got some expensive stuff at the market today. Artistic and all that. Would you like a taste?"
"Don't put pressure on him to do such a thing," Kyojuro nearly snapped. Giyuu didn't know if rage was an emotion Kyojuro could physically present, but it was clear when he'd had enough of something. "It's getting late."
"I wouldn't mind," Giyuu uttered. He didn't know what being had taken over his mouth. He didn't predict himself even answering after Kyojuro had stepped in, but something told him this was the edge of a cliff, and he needed to jump off it willingly if he were to know what was below.
"Great." Shinjuro stood up.
Kyojuro and Senjuro took everyone's bowls back to the kitchen, but before he left, Kyojuro gave his father a look that spoke. When both their backs were turned to Shinjuro and Giyuu, Shinjuro grabbed the sleeve of Giyuu's yukata to get his attention. He jerked his head in the direction of his room.
Just as Giyuu stepped into the doorway, Shinjuro put his hand low on his back, shutting the door behind them both. Giyuu's first instinct was to feel something near repulsion, but when the hand disappeared, he wanted it back. It was warm, like how he'd wanted.
The back doors were open to the yard just as in the living room, and only the lanterns on the engawa outside provided light.
"Go sit over there," Shinjuro said.
Giyuu wondered why he liked to sit in the space of open doors so much, turning his back to the interior of the home, staring over the enclosed but fairly wide space of his backyard. There wasn't much to look at out there, not a garden or flowering bushes, mostly sand, and it was walled up, no valleys at eye point. Perhaps it was slightly more freeing than being inside, sure, but if Shinjuro actually enjoyed the wind in his hair he could step out the front door instead. Giyuu suspected he only left the safety of those walls when he needed more booze.
Giyuu listened, he didn't mind sitting in doorways.
Shinjuro had walked to the side of his room, and when he came to sit beside Giyuu, he handed him a small cup for tasting. His own was large and filled to the brim. "This one's a mix of sweet and tangy, not too dry if your taste is more delicate."
He slammed down a good half while Giyuu sipped. A cherry-like sweetness rushed over his tongue then left a small burning after, almost lemony. Giyuu let his mouth pull tight at the aftertaste before holding his cup out to Shinjuro's side.
Shinjuro finished his big gulp before reaching to pour more. It was a different one than the other, and it had more of a light sensation but was so unenjoyably dry. He coughed before putting the cup down.
"Don't like that one, hm?"
"Can I have more of the other?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want you getting drunk, maybe another time," the man huffed, bringing his heavy hand down to pat the top of Giyuu's thigh.
Giyuu felt himself tense up, his eyes darting to Shinjuro's hand and following it even as it slid itself away. He needed to repress these things, he knew. It was so wrong to look at Kyojuro's father and think that maybe he was flirting with Giyuu, to hope he was, but Giyuu liked the touch of men. He wouldn't pretend he only fathomed competition and comradery with them, no, he wanted them. He was scared of the danger it would put him in to ever proposition someone he found attractive, but god did he want. Just to try, at least once, a taste test. Even if he found himself repulsed after an act-- and he wasn't sure he would, which he worried about-- he secretly hoped that every decently attractive man that gave him a good bit of attention was telling him they wanted him too.
"How old are you?" He found himself asking. He'd get a slap on the wrist if he was a young boy saying it to a random man, but he'd found that while many hated his blunt nature, they'd all come to accept it if they were around him enough. Giyuu hid many things in fear of outspeaking, but there were also many he simply let loose without care for their perceptions. He'd either be ignored or misinterpreted either way.
Shinjuro, unlike some, took this and laughed a little. "Almost fifty."
Giyuu liked that answer.
Shinjuro suddenly scooted closer, letting his hand crawl to Giyuu's knee as he turned his way and opened his mouth to say something, the smell of alcohol thick on his breath, something else like sandalwood and sage coming from his skin. Giyuu's eyes lowered to his lips for a moment, his own mouth open a small gap. Before Shinjuro could get out a word, Kyojuro spoke from somewhere in the house.
"Tomioka? Where'd you go?"
"Should I go find a room--?" Giyuu asked, but Shinjuro shook his head and turned to yell at the door.
"He's with me. I'll find a futon and room for him. You should take a bath or go to bed after a mission, Kyojuro, let yourself relax." The suggestion was said with the least paternal consideration Giyuu had ever heard. He felt like he should at least go say goodnight, and his leg jolted to tell him to get up, but Shinjuro put more pressure on it and gave him a seating look.
He looked back to Giyuu when a door closed somewhere and the house settled in silence again. Shinjuro copied Giyuu's previous move of eyeing lips and breathing shallowly.
"You're very pretty," Shinjuro muttered.
"I'm... pretty?"
"Mhm." His hand came up so his fingers could slide under where Giyuu's hair crowded over the side of his face, cupping his cheek. He used his thumb to rub over the skin under Giyuu's eye and blew out a breathy laugh when Giyuu's eyelashes fluttered. Giyuu swallowed a lump in his throat. He thought Shinjuro would lean his face closer and touch their lips together, maybe before really diving in, grabbing Giyuu to come sit on his lap, but then he removed his hand, and he kept his mouth where it was.
His hand brushed up Giyuu's thigh, going higher each time then sliding back down, up and down, up and down. He teased a reach higher but never went for it, luring Giyuu to believing they wouldn't get past some light petting... until eventually he shot his hand to Giyuu's groin.
Giyuu let out a high, embarrassing squeak as Shinjuro palmed him hard then ferociously shushed him, grabbing Giyuu's face with his other hand again to press his thumb against Giyuu's lips. His palm squeezed around the bulge inside Giyuu's fundoshi just under enough to hurt. Giyuu let another whimper slip between his lips and Shinjuro's thumb. The hand lightened its pressure then squeezed down again.
Giyuu's hips give an instinctual stutter and jut forward, feeding into it, encouraging Shinjuro to palm him again. His hand felt huge over Giyuu, inescapable. Giyuu's mind melted. He tried not to whine again as Shinjuro slowly massaged him. He had no choice but to shoot his legs up around the man's arm at a particular grope. His thighs encased Shinjuro's forearm and squeezed it, his hips asking for more. It was getting so hard to be quiet.
"You're too cute," Shinjuro chuckled.
Giyuu's legs slowly unfolded again when Shinjuro let his hand retreat. He leaned in and raised his eyebrows to ask Giyuu a question, to which Giyuu nodded. With that, Shinjuro's lips slowly pushed into his. The two of them didn't do the hesitant peck most people do at first, they just kept going until they were firmly locked. Giyuu's nose pressed into Shinjuro's cheek, his eyes shutting in peace instead of being scrunched. The kiss was slow and sensual even though it was full of hunger, and Shinjuro's fingers tangled into the hairs at the back of Giyuu's neck, his palm cupping the bottom of Giyuu's head. Giyuu melted into him, hands pressing themselves to Shinjuro's chest. He felt special and ordinary, big and small, anxious and comfortable all at once. Finally, he was right about someone taking an interest in him. Just a coincidence that it happened to be the shaggy middle-aged dad of his colleague.
Giyuu had shared a few kisses in his life, and never gone beyond them. He'd had women try and seduce him, or thank him after a rescue. He and Sabito occasionally sneaked a peck here and there. He'd never gone beyond being grabbed by someone, or feeling tongue. He could tell that this was slowly going into a territory he didn't know how to traverse.
Shinjuro eventually pulled back and removed the hand at the back of his head. "Would you like to spend the night with me?"
And that had to be it. Giyuu hated vague wording, euphuisms, the secrecy of things he wanted, but he was sure he knew what Shinjuro was asking. "I-I've never... had sex with someone before."
Another dark smile murked up any pure air that could possibly be left. "You ever given someone head?"
"No, I haven't done anything."
"Alright, then why don't you try?"
"I won't be any good if I don't know."
"So?" Shinjuro asked in a bored, matter-of-fact tone, "I don't care about your skill. I'd like to see you try and take it." Giyuu's pants tightened pathetically at the fact that Shinjuro, too, sounded like such a teacher. Maybe not as nice of one as Kyojuro, but a man of great guidance nonetheless.
"Okay."
Shinjuro patted the baby fat of Giyuu's face lightly then got up to close the doors to the backyard. He put their cups on his cabinet then walked himself to the wall nearest where Giyuu sat, leaning his back against it.
Giyuu, the fool, stood and walked to Shinjuro instead of crawling. The older man just gave a sweet kiss to Giyuu's lips before lightly shoving him down by the shoulders. Giyuu made eye contact with him until he'd slid onto his knees, looking up through his thick lashes. Shinjuro used a hand to grope himself, pushing his yukata open and showing off where a hefty cock sat waiting, the outline defined tight against the fabric.
Giyuu hesitated too long, so Shinjuro jerked his head at him. "Go on." Now that was a little more like an old man outside the bar, no faux care.
Giyuu slid his hands up Shinjuro's muscled thighs, shuddering at the sensation of his coarse hair. He gently palmed at Shinjuro's erection, holding him and caressing with his thumb. He didn't wait for Shinjuro to get any more impatient before taking the edge of the fundoshi and sliding down. Shinjuro's cock waved in Giyuu's face, bobbing in the air. Giyuu sucked in a sharp breath, focused on the veins that trailed from Shinjuro's lower abdomen to the shaft and the sneak peak of his reddened tip through his foreskin. Giyuu had wanted to be in this position for so long, always wondering what it was like to have a man standing above him, expecting something of him, believing he might be able to do a good job.
Shinjuro let him stare. Giyuu brought a hand up and grasped him. Surely this wouldn't be too hard... he knew what pressure with his hands he liked for himself, and he knew men liked soft, tight things. He knew he was already welling up saliva.
He stroked down, pulling back the extra skin and revealing Shinjuro fully. Shinjuro let out a deep rumble from the back of his throat. Giyuu gave one more dolly look up to his eyes, then he slowly opened his mouth and put his lips just around the tip. His tongue stuck out and licked a his slit, tasting the musky, salty taste and feeling the texture he'd been curious about for so long. His heartbeat thundered around in his chest, inexperience was making him worry.
His mouth stayed tonguing at the head nervously, eyes no longer making little flits up to Shinjuro, at least, not until the older man's hand cupped under Giyuu's chin and jaw from the side, tilting Giyuu's head up. Giyuu's lips closed around the tip before sliding off, not with enough spit to string back with him but enough to dribble down his lip.
"Stop putting so much pressure on yourself or it won't be good for either of us," Shinjuro scolded. Giyuu's cock gave a twitch for some reason.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"Just get to it, you'll learn as you go along." Shinjuro paused for a moment then, taking his thumb and pressing it into Giyuu's bottom lip to slowly drag it down and appreciate the way it bounced back into place. "Do it how your body leads you."
Giyuu nodded, soaking in his husky voice, embarrassed when looking into his eyes but doing so anyway. Shinjuro leaned back into the wall again, and Giyuu settled himself down.
He started with mouthing around the head again, giving slow strokes with his hand and rubbing his thumb over Shinjuro's soft skin. He slowly slid the tip of Shinjuro's cock into his mouth in full, his lips rounding out around the side, then his cheeks as he pushed down further. He took in a deep breath at same time as Shinjuro did, and he slid down more and more, thinking he could go on forever, that he'd take him down in full on his first try impress him. But then he looked and saw the inches between his face and Shinjuro's lower abdomen and he felt the tip touching the back of his throat. If he wanted to achieve that, hed have to work for it.
Giyuu pulled back and worked down in different bobs of the head, going further each time. He could feel the instinct in the back of his mouth to close up, not allow that intrusion, but he needed that approval. And Shinjuro played his part well too, giving grunts and deep sighs, the half-nonchalance of an experienced man, not letting Giyuu think he was doing too good. It made it all the more of a fun challenge, that bit of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
Giyuu was able to take in more if he closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted rather than what he thought he needed to do. He wanted to feel Shinjuro down his throat. Once he got there, he stayed, in fear of back up and gagging a little too bad and also because he didn't know if he could do it again. Shinjuro let him enjoy his little achievement and he patted Giyuu's head when he was ready for Giyuu to get back to it.
Giyuu found that he enjoyed this more than he even thought he would. Of course he knew he had to pleasure men in order to receive the same treatment from them, but he always worried he'd think of it as a job. This, on the contrary, was far from that. He liked the weight that was put on his tongue and the way his mouth felt filled out, how his throat could be flexible and silent or he could gag and choke and Shinjuro would get off on either. He could be a mess or he could be refined.
Shinjuro's hand stayed on the top of his head as Giyuu got used to the patterns of movement and eventually Shinjuro told him, "Now start swiveling around your tongue a bit, when you feel it's necessary, push it up with more force."
Giyuu took the time to absorb the instruction, then did as told.
Shinjuro patted his head twice again. "Good boy, good boy."
Giyuu choked and his gut gave an excited lurch, an uncomfortable amount of saliva spitting from his full mouth down his own chin and Shinjuro's cock. He felt precum wet the tip of his underwear, enough that it even soaked to his pants. His mind felt foggy. He'd gotten to the point where he was going off pure instinct and the small bit of breathing he could get from his nose.
When that lack of oxygen crept up to him and he had to stagger back, far too late to do it calmly or prettily, Shinjuro laughed. He tapped his hand on Giyuu's cheeks playfully once again. Their eyes met, Giyuu's chin streaked with spit and his eyelashes feeling so heavy all of a sudden.
"I think that's good for now, then," Shinjuro told him. "I know something about you now."
"What is it?" Giyuu asked.
Shinjuro walked away from his place on the wall and left Giyuu on his knees. He walked to his closet. "You like being praised."
Giyuu's watched as the older man pulled out a little vial of oil.
"Come here," Shinjuro said, motioning to the futon. He sat, then pulled Giyuu with him, guiding Giyuu's arms back around his shoulders and letting Giyuu sort of sit over his lap. His stubble rubbed over Giyuu's chin and cheeks as they kissed. Giyuu wanted to feel that sensation between his legs.
Shinjuro finally started trailing heaving, wet kisses down below Giyuu's jaw, hooking in between his head and his neck to suck, then the junction between his neck and shoulder. Giyuu lifted his legs to rub them down Shinjuro's sides, tying his ankles on Shinjuro's lower back before having to break them apart again. Shinjuro leaned away just enough to unbuckle Giyuu's belt, hand nudging his erection as he went about it. Giyuu found himself purposely slipping out sounds until the belt was out of his pant loops. He didn't know if he sounded any more enticing, but he was desperate to learn how to be.
Shinjuro moved on to pulling Giyuu's haori off of him. When he attempted to throw it aside, Giyuu asked if he'd fold it. Shinjuro grunted, and did a half-assed job, but Giyuu had expected him to disobey completely, so it was hardly an issue. While he did that, Giyuu was able to get his pants off, and he worked down the buttons of his shirt. Shinjuro helped finish the rest.
Shinjuro's hands cascaded down Giyuu's sides, then squeezed his thighs, so rough that Giyuu almost felt uncomfortable before the sensations switched in his mind and he could feel his cock throb extra insistently. Shinjuro gave him messy kisses as this went on, letting Giyuu hear a gruff sound here and there, letting Giyuu touch his hair and twist some around his fingers. Then, Shinjuro pulled away. He stared down at Giyuu's naked form for a moment, taking in the thick hair that trailed down his belly and the swell of his muscles unflexed and relaxed under his skin. Giyuu's palm wandered into Shinjuro's yukata.
"You are rather pretty for something never explored by another man before," Shinjuro remarked.
Giyuu's mind was far beyond coming up with a response. He steadied his breathing, willing himself to look Shinjuro in the eyes as his fingertips toyed with his happy trail. Shinjuro's cock was still out, bobbing around with his minor movements as it peeked out of his yukata, which Giyuu didn't have the gall to ask him to take off. Instead he just licked his lips as he stared, taking in the lines around Shinjuro's eyes and how they looked down at him. "I want you to fuck me."
"Turn over and lay your hips on a pillow, it'll help the position." He reached for one of the two pillows on the futon, helping push Giyuu onto his stomach and holding him up to slide it under.
Giyuu didn't know if he hated or liked that he couldn't see Shinjuro's expressions when he was laid down like this. It made him feel a bit cheap, impersonal, but that's very much what this was, and in a way that shameful kind of interaction fed into the horniness. Once Shinjuro had oiled up his fingers behind Giyuu, the small bottle clinked back to the floor beside them and Shinjuro's other hand went to his waist. He used this hold to put some pressure on Giyuu's body, either for sensory reasons or to keep him from moving, and with the other hand his wetted fingers come to tease the entrance of Giyuu's ass.
Giyuu's legs spread a little more, but they went tense before relaxing again. Shinjuro's two finger tips prodded around his opening, coating the outside and then dipping just barely passed the rim, before he finally folded one finger back to his hand and stuck the other one down in to the final knuckle. That barely felt like much, just a little odd.
It was when the first few pumps were done and he was already sliding in a second finger that Giyuu's breath sucked in tightly through his clenched teeth. It stretched him just beyond what he'd known before. It made him confused. Still, he like when he felt Shinjuro's fingertips against him from the inside, and the way he could feel Shinjuro breathing down the length of his back. He liked that now, when he thought about where he was at, he felt immature and dirty. Three fingers finally gave a stretch he couldn't come to peace with so quickly. It felt intrusive for the first few several second, but Shinjuro refusing to drag it out made it all the more better. Giyuu anticipated the even warmer, heavier feeling of his cock. He wondered if he'd feel it when Shinjuro came in him-- he hoped he would.
"Does it feel any good?"
"Y-yeah," Giyuu huffed. He tried to turn his head back over his shoulder to look at the stone cold expression on Shinjuro's face, so passive while Giyuu was a wreak below him, and Shinjuro never met his eyes, busy fixated on where his fingers hooked into him.
He squeezed around the side of Giyuu's waist again and hummed, "Guess you're just quiet then."
Giyuu didn't know what he was supposed to do, of course he was quiet. How could he be loud? He felt the pleasure, but any urge to give constant little hums and sighs were so easily choked down that he almost felt like they weren't real at all.
Shinjuro started doing something specific with his fingers, not spreading them out to widen Giyuu nor thrusting in. He started pushing down in him, his knuckles bending into the cushion above where the fingertips were searching for something, dancing. Then he rubbed against a spot inside Giyuu that finally broke the barrier between his brain and his mouth. The noise he made was unexpected, and unpracticed, but even odder was the feeling that caused it. Shinjuro gave a sultry laugh at Giyuu's reaction then rubbed against the spot again and watched as Giyuu gave a small bow of the back.
"T-that's good," Giyuu said. "Keep doing that."
"That's your prostate. Meant to feel real nice."
Giyuu let a low rumble sound from his throat similar to a cat's purr, closing his eyes gently to let the feeling of Shinjuro playing with the spot take over him in full.
"It's the same thing that's stimulated here," Shinjuro said, taking his other hand and pressing his thumb into the space between Giyuu's balls and his hole. Giyuu muffled a small moan into a pillow.
Shinjuro pressed into both spaces a few more times, getting Giyuu to start jutting his hips in search for more stimulation, but then he backed out and away.
Giyuu looked over his shoulder again. "That was good," he repeated.
"Of course it was." Shinjuro spilled the oil over his hand and coated his cock. The same hand was used to pull one of Giyuu's ass cheeks to the side so he could look over him. Giyuu put his face back into the pillow in front of him. His inexperience, his insecurities, and all of his little ways of thinking were made vulnerable before-- which he now realized was likely all Shinjuro wanted him to blow him for, to feel the power-- but having his cock pressed up against his tummy and his ass in the air felt more revealing than anything else. He knew it was less the case, but it couldn't help the feeling. He liked this feeling of embarrassment, the knowledge that he had no choice but to succumb to the fact it made him feel hot, and that he probably deserved it. Almost total humiliation.
Shinjuro jerkily leaned over Giyuu's back and planted one hand beside his shoulder on the futon, the other holding his length steady. Giyuu moved one of his legs up and bent it, letting his body lay comfortably as Shinjuro gently pressed against his opening. "I'll go gentle," he promised, "won't be nothin' too painful."
"I believe you," Giyuu said. Shinjuro was being so nice to him.
The more he slid in, Giyuu tightened up, and Shinjuro made a quick scolding sound before trying to enter a little more persistently. Giyuu tried to relax, allow his body to open up and give way, but the second Shinjuro's tip slid inside, he went back to his inexperienced instincts.
"Stop that," Shinjuro said gruffly.
"Sorry..."
"Just..." Shinjuro put his free hand more on Giyuu's shoulder, where he gave a tough squeeze and tried to get Giyuu's body to relax. He waited until he was sure Giyuu was more in control, and he started forcing himself in more, now much more smoothly.
Shinjuro didn't stop until he was all the way inside. He'd slid in at his own pace only, cautious for Giyuu but not letting him be the dictator. It was all up to Shinjuro, and he must have wanted it that way. Giyuu was more than okay with that. Once settled, Shinjuro went back to leaning over Giyuu's back. One arm was right above his shoulder, keeping him in that exact spot on the futon, and the other went to smack the side of Giyuu's ass lightly.
"You got good hips," Shinjuro commented, "nice shaped ass too. You'd make a good mommy if you could."
"O-oh." Giyuu's brain melted a bit. His eyes fluttered closed. It already felt so good, just to be talked to like that.
Shinjuro made some kind of sly chuckle at Giyuu's reaction and leaned down to breathe over his ear. He brushed the back of his hand down Giyuu's reddened cheek and then went back into action, briefly letting his fingers entangle in Giyuu's hair from how he held the side of his face. Giyuu didn't even realize how flushed his skin felt until Shinjuro's usually warm hand felt almost iced in comparison.
After rutting his hips about and letting Giyuu expand around him, Shinjuro pulled out slowly. It was nothing but a small sting, a dull pinch. He only went half way before he slowly sunk in again, less slow than how he'd first entered, still a little overwhelming for poor Giyuu. But Giyuu knew that Shinjuro knew what was the best way to fuck him. He couldn't have gotten luckier, or at least that's what his mind sighed to him when Shinjuro was to the base again and he was full. It felt less like a painful fullness now, more like a right one.
Shinjuro did very shallow thrusts at first, not even enough to make a sound between them, but he did keep up a steady beat. After enough thrusts, it made Giyuu moan for each one, when Shinjuro would slide in and Giyuu would feel full and choked up. Once that had started, he finally thrusted faster, leaning up and putting both hands on Giyuu's waist, just before the subtle swell of his hips.
Giyuu's voice sounded breathy to his own ears, a little distant and distracted, whiny and startled all at the same time. Startled at the constant, steady hitting of Shinjuro's hip bones into the cushion of his ass. His cock was heavy, maybe not some huge monster but surely more than a good majority of men had. He made Giyuu's lower body explode with heat and energy, something that felt so addicting.
Shinjuro sped up. Giyuu couldn't help how it had him sounding, like a whimpering idiot. Shinjuro's moans were something the man was clearly used to doing, almost too repetitive and grunty, but then he'd open his mouth for a small second and give something smooth that made Giyuu shudder. He was just so good at setting the right atmosphere, making Giyuu pliant under him. He both rocked Giyuu back on himself and shoved into him.
"You're being so good," Shinjuro suddenly said, speeding up even more. "h-holding up so well, baby."
"Mhm," Giyuu whined.
"Yes, you like being praised, don't you?"
Giyuu gave a weak nod. He felt a burning need from his own dick. He reached to slide his fingers against himself, but when combined with Shinjuro it just felt like too much, and he didn't know what to do. It was so good, he needed it, but it was already so overwhelming.
Shinjuro took his hand off Giyuu's waist and cupped it over Giyuu's throat, not to squeeze on it but to slide up under his chin and make Giyuu tilt his head back.
"Just keep listening to me, keep being a good boy, Giyuu."
"Yes... yes, sir." The title trailed off, delicate, floating from his mouth.
Shinjuro went faster. Giyuu arched his back more and made sure his hips were high like he was an animal responding to heat, chest to the bedding, ready to be bred. He could feel Shinjuro's burning eyes sliding down the slope of his back.
When Shinjuro hit a streak of finding Giyuu's prostate with seemingly every other thrust, Giyuu was having trouble keeping his mouth closed when it wasn't shoved into a pillow. Shinjuro used the opportunity to scoot his hand close to Giyuu's turned face and slide in two fingers. The digits pressed down on Giyuu's tongue, Giyuu's teeth resting on top of them, the taste of skin and the texture of his fingers driving Giyuu mad.
The thick smell of sweat and bodies opening up, working together, sliding against each other, filled the room. When Shinjuro would lean his mouth close to Giyuu's Giyuu could still smell the hints of alcohol on his breath, but he could hardly taste it.
He knew Shinjuro was just a dad-- and a hashira, sure, but a hashira that'd faded into a random man soliciting young prey after drinking a little much-- but maybe it was all that which had Giyuu's toes curling against the sides of Shinjuro's muscled calves. It was that little bit of shame-- embarrassment-- again, that he was being fucked by someone who simultaneously had so much agency over him and barely had control of his own life.
Giyuu slobbered over Shinjuro's fingers, eyes rolling back as Shinjuro drove the tip of his cock into Giyuu's most sensitive spots and made him feel all unraveled and coiled up at the same time. His throat felt raw with the deep sounds he emitted.
"That's right," Shinjuro groaned, "you take it so well for your first time."
Giyuu whimpered.
"S-so close, baby-doll, just hold out for a bit longer."
And when Shinjuro did cum, he was the type to grunt out a slew of curses and obscenities, calling Giyuu filthier things than he had the whole time and seeming to not even realize he was doing it. He plunged his fingers as far into Giyuu's mouth as he could, making him gag and bite down a hard. There was the sound of wet slaps between them when his continued thrusting made his cum spill out and stick between them, smacking against Giyuu's ass and stringing when Shinjuro's hips would rear back. It dripped onto the futon messily, leaving streaks down the back of Giyuu's thighs. He didn't know sex was supposed to be that messy. The sound and sensation alone was so dirty that Giyuu quickly came too. His cock became too sensitive to handle suddenly and he spurted ropes over the the futon below him, a wreaked cry of overwhelming pleasure he hadn't ever had elicited from him before.
Right after Giyuu finished, when he still felt the electricity thrumming through his body and he hadn't completely come down from the high, Shinjuro pulled out and grabbed his hips to help lay him on his side.
As Giyuu laid loopy the immediate moments after, Shinjuro got up. Giyuu blearily opened his eyes to watch his figure walk away, then come back with a different pillow that he lazily slung to the side of the futon. He then staggered over to his dresser and poured himself another full glass before downing it instantly, and came back to lay his own head down when he crashed to the sheets, unaware of the stickiness between Giyuu's legs making him rub them together and the fact it made the bed all wet. Giyuu's mind pieced back together right as the man was laying down, and the water hashira found himself wondering what he should do from there. Surely a man like Shinjuro was waiting for him to get up and leave or something. He'd probably grumble and tell Giyuu to in a few moments, and Giyuu was prepared, he wouldn't mind. He also wouldn't mind getting a damn towel to wipe himself off with, if Shinjuro couldn't spare the time.
Minutes passed, maybe two, maybe three, but not more. Right when he was about to ask if Shinjuro wanted him to get up, the man patted the side of his butt appreciatively and threw his arm over Giyuu's waist, telling him, "You did well."
There a moment of silence, then a clearing of Shinjuro's throat.
"Don't get attached though, won't be happening again," he grumbled.
Giyuu turned over his shoulder and saw that he'd passed out right after.