[If he knew how to say it or that he needed to say Yamamoto right now, with how he feels would tell Gokudera to stop being patient. Maybe if he had kissed him when this urge first came the baseball player himself could be more patient, as it is, he is like baseball wound up for the pitch, galloping towards home plate.
Any demands made by the storm, be it with his lips, his hands, or his words Yamamoto will give them, no regrets, no hesitation.
He has about ten percent of his brain left with rational thought at this point, then there is a kiss near his ear. His fingers curl into Gokudera's shirt, tighten in his locks as his breath shudders out in what he could not deny being a moan. Heat shooting bullets down his spine from the contact.
His skin is so hot he would almost wonder how the bomber's hand is not burned as it touches his neck, only firing those bullets faster. His head moving with the touch, letting the storm have what he wants if he wishes to nuzzle he will not be stopped. Never has his name sounded that way, for Yamamoto it is intimate and Gokudera knows this, just what it means to the Japanese to drop last names. Yet, he wants to hear the smaller male say it over and over again. He doesn't want anyone else but Gokudera to call him that if hearing it makes him feel this way, it's only him that Yamamoto wants.
But then there are lips near his and he wants them again, he wants them everywhere, completely lost to instinct here he tries for a kiss. The other's lips are gone too soon. Worse than that he tries to shift back, the swordsman is quick as he pulls the other back to him, nearly knocking himself backward on the stretcher.
No way is he letting go as those hooded eyes of his catch Gokudera's, fired with intensity, it is almost like his look on the battlefield, except this time it is fired full of needs, some of which he may not even fully understand himself. What he does know, he is not letting go unless Gokudera makes him.
His breathing may not be the heavy shudder but it still rushes out with the desire that is running through his body as he grips Gokudera there against. The hand that was in his hair going to cup Gokudera's cheek, the pad of thumb dragging itself along the others jawline.]
More, Hayato. [His thumb goes lower, finding what bare skin it can to caress as he leans in, wanting those lips again yet also, wanting Gokudera to continue what he was doing before he spoke.]
they would, may have to try it on a goofy thread one day, not as if those don't happen lol
Any demands made by the storm, be it with his lips, his hands, or his words Yamamoto will give them, no regrets, no hesitation.
He has about ten percent of his brain left with rational thought at this point, then there is a kiss near his ear. His fingers curl into Gokudera's shirt, tighten in his locks as his breath shudders out in what he could not deny being a moan. Heat shooting bullets down his spine from the contact.
His skin is so hot he would almost wonder how the bomber's hand is not burned as it touches his neck, only firing those bullets faster. His head moving with the touch, letting the storm have what he wants if he wishes to nuzzle he will not be stopped. Never has his name sounded that way, for Yamamoto it is intimate and Gokudera knows this, just what it means to the Japanese to drop last names. Yet, he wants to hear the smaller male say it over and over again. He doesn't want anyone else but Gokudera to call him that if hearing it makes him feel this way, it's only him that Yamamoto wants.
But then there are lips near his and he wants them again, he wants them everywhere, completely lost to instinct here he tries for a kiss. The other's lips are gone too soon. Worse than that he tries to shift back, the swordsman is quick as he pulls the other back to him, nearly knocking himself backward on the stretcher.
No way is he letting go as those hooded eyes of his catch Gokudera's, fired with intensity, it is almost like his look on the battlefield, except this time it is fired full of needs, some of which he may not even fully understand himself. What he does know, he is not letting go unless Gokudera makes him.
His breathing may not be the heavy shudder but it still rushes out with the desire that is running through his body as he grips Gokudera there against. The hand that was in his hair going to cup Gokudera's cheek, the pad of thumb dragging itself along the others jawline.]
More, Hayato. [His thumb goes lower, finding what bare skin it can to caress as he leans in, wanting those lips again yet also, wanting Gokudera to continue what he was doing before he spoke.]