
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3604944.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Yu-Gi-Oh!_ARC-V
  Relationship:
      Kotsu_Masumi/Sawatari_Shingo
  Character:
      Kotsu_Masumi, Sawatari_Shingo
  Additional Tags:
      Trans_Female_Character, Trans_Male_Character, Making_Out, Oral_Sex,
      Fingerfucking, Semi-Public_Sex, Awkward_Kissing, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-24 Words: 3023
****** Tenebrescence ******
by miscellanium
Summary
     It hadn’t been a problem before, but lately, in the wake of Professor
     Marco's warm guiding hands on her waist, Masumi’s found herself
     worrying more about how little experience she has to offer him. She’s
     never even kissed anybody— She squashes the thought. There must be a
     way to get this out of her system.
Notes
     note to trans readers: i don't believe i use any specific names or
     labels during the sex scene but as always those concerned about
     triggers should read with discretion.
See the end of the work for more notes
Whenever the latest test results are posted in Leo Duel School’s main common
room, Kotsu Masumi takes her time working her way to the front of the crowd.
She knows her results without looking; she’s always the best in her Fusion
class but it never hurts to check. This month, though, her score’s dipped a
bit. Barely worth noting to anybody else, really, but the Maiami Championship’s
coming up and once a flaw breaches the surface of a stone it’s unsalvageable.
Going over last week in her mind Masumi tries to identify the cause,
eliminating options until she’s left with the answer she expected but did not
want: Professor Marco. It hadn’t been a problem before, but lately, in the wake
of his warm guiding hands on her waist, she’s found herself worrying more about
how little experience she has to offer him. She’s never even kissed anybody—
She squashes the thought. There must be a way to get this out of her system.
It’d be weird to ask Yaiba or Hokuto for advice, she thinks as she leaves the
common room, because they might be her friends but they’re not friends, yet she
can’t just ask some random person—
Just then she hears an obnoxious voice bragging about new rare foil cards;
Sawatari Shingo’s down the hallway, holding court over a few bored kids waiting
outside a classroom. He might work, she realizes with distaste. If nothing else
he of all people should understand.
"Hey," she calls out. "They don’t care. Come here."
Sawatari sputters—of course they care, how could they not care about his
perfect cards—but complies, studiously aloof by the time he reaches her.
"I need to ask you something," Masumi says. "Not here. Do you know somewhere
private? Not that hideout of yours," she adds as he opens his mouth. "I just
want to get this over with."
He runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “How private do you need? There’s
this one stairwell people don’t really use—”
"Good enough. Take me there."
And he does, only because he has nothing better to do. He makes sure to tell
her this, voice raised for his long-suffering captive audience, but one cold
red stare and he goes silent.
Once they get there, Masumi waits just long enough to make sure she can’t hear
anybody coming before saying, “I’m only talking to you about this because
you’re the only other trans student I know of.”
Sawatari’s in the middle of sitting beneath the stairs when she says this and
he thumps down, looking up at her like she’d tripped him. “What? You’re—”
"Yes. Unlike you, though, I don’t have to deal with any asinine politicians.
Anyway," she says, ignoring the way he fumbles for a reply, "Is there any truth
to those rumors about you? Because I need to know if it’s any different when
you’re with other people."
"What?"
Masumi exhales through her nose, lips pressed as thin as her patience. Sawatari
may be a decent strategist (and a better liar, a less kind part of her adds)
but pull his plans out from under him and you have a fair chance of breaking
him. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to catch up, and his grey eyes
brighten with a sudden understanding.
"Oh! Oh," he says, drawing out the vowel in that vaguely irritating way of his.
"Wait, is this about Professor Marco? Ha, as if you’ve got a chance—"
"I don’t care what you think."
He scoffs and gets to his feet. “Well, excuse me! Then why am I even here,
huh?” They glare at each other, Sawatari staring down from his couple extra
inches, and it’s he who gives in, looking away with a scowl. “Things aren’t
that different,” he says. “It’s the same stuff in the end. So it’s experience
you’re worried about, yeah?” As he brings his gaze back to her, eyes narrow and
calculating, his hands move towards his belt. “Y’know, if you really want to
find out about those rumors—”
"No."
"Okay okay!" He throws his hands up, stepping back. "Just thought I’d offer,
since you asked and all! Anyway, for kissing it doesn’t even matter if the
other person’s like us or not. You at least know how to do that, right?"
She doesn’t look away but she doesn’t say anything either.
Sawatari crosses his arms, his smirk as theatrical as his gesture. “You telling
me Kotsu Masumi the stubborn’s never kissed anyone?” He laughs loud, the sound
of it echoing in the empty stairwell.
"Shut up!" Masumi grabs his shirt, other fist at the ready, and he slams his
mouth shut quick. But then that curious expression flits across his face again
and before she can react he’s touching the back of her hand, fingers circling
light across her skin, and the abrupt intimacy of it catches in her throat.
"I wouldn’t mind letting you practice on me. You’re only asking me to help you
as a last resort, right? I know what it’s like when you can’t stop thinking
about someone."
Letting go of his shirt, she stands there and looks for a tell. His smile seems
sincere, though, small as it might be, and really, now that she lets herself
think about this, it’s just his personality that’s unattractive. So she lets go
of his shirt and grabs his wrist instead, pulling him back under the stairs. He
follows easily, anticipating her movements and kneeling in front of her.
They both start forward at the same time so they pause, each watching the other
warily. Sawatari stays there until she rolls her eyes and leans in; then he
goes to hold her face with both hands, stopping her advance, but closes his
eyes and so his kiss lands on her cheek. His lips are soft except for rough
patches of skin where he must make a habit of chewing on them, and she realizes
his hands are trembling. She shifts, unfolding her legs to push herself up
against him and rest her ankles over his, then pulls his hands, hovering
awkward in the air, back to the curve of her jaw. He huffs, breath warm on her
face, and closes his eyes again. This time he bumps her nose with his, finding
her upper lip first before shifting his mouth down.
For a first kiss, it’s…wet. Sawatari’s grip on her face tightens a bit, as does
the pressure of his spit-slicked kisses, and a strange prickle rolls its way
down her back. But then he’s alternating between pushing his mouth hard against
hers or trying to suck on one of her lips and all she can think of is, well, a
slobbery dog. She hasn’t closed her eyes, doesn’t see why she should, so when
his breath stutters she notices a blush starting at the top of his ears.
Masumi tries to turn her head away but he just follows so she ends up mumbling
against his mouth, “Is it always like this?”
He recoils like she’s slapped him. “N-no! I have a, a technique! It must be too
advanced for you, since you’re new to this,” he says, cheeks reddening to match
his ears.
"Okay." This isn’t his best lie but she lets him keep it. "Then let me try
something."
Masumi puts her hands on his shoulders for leverage and rises to her knees,
knocking Sawatari onto his rear. There’s no face-holding, just a tilt of the
neck and she’s on him, fingers pressing hard into the muscles stretched over
his scapula. His eyes, gone wide with surprise, slide shut again as she starts
kissing him with their lips slotted in a way that feels more natural to her,
not shoving but a gentle push and pull, and leans her weight in until she’s got
him flat on the cold vinyl floor. Swinging her legs over his hips in one fluid
move she puts a hand on his chest to hold him down and the other on his chin as
a guide, like a bridle. She closes her eyes for a moment and when she looks at
him again his thick eyebrows are furrowed, his lips slightly parted. She bends
down to kiss him again, her hair falling across his face, and he makes a small
noise, like a moan—
Masumi pulls back and Sawatari’s gone bright red, staring at the underside of
the stairs above them as he wriggles out from beneath her and sits up. He wipes
his mouth, barely letting his fingers linger on his philtrum, before looking at
her face but not her eyes.
"That was." He has to clear his throat before he can continue. "I think you’ve
got the hang of it now. Since you haven’t done this before—" and now he meets
her gaze either in challenge or confession, she can’t tell— "You should know
that at this point it’s, it’s a good idea to start touching the other person.
Lower."
And Sawatari reaches out to her, slow as though he’s waiting for her to slap
his hand away, and after a beat Masumi mirrors him. He lays first his fingers
then his palm on one of her breasts, testing, but when she does the same on his
chest he shrugs her off and shakes his head. Oh—right. She moves her hand down
quick to rest on the curve of his waist. He huffs again—like he’s been holding
his breath, she realizes—and scoots closer, kneeling again between her legs as
he gathers up the blue fabric of her shirt in his hands. Their faces are close
enough now to rest their foreheads against each other but she holds back. While
he starts caressing her, if it can be called that with his fingertips pressing
so light and cautious along the hidden line of her bra or rise of her nipples,
she traces slow circles on his sides, raising an eyebrow when he shudders just
from this.
He ignores her and expands his range, sliding one hand down her body and using
that one to explore her hips, her arm, anything within reach above the waist,
so she mimics him, running her hands over first one thigh then the other. With
not much else to do, she slips one hand under his shirt and up his back—a sharp
gasp hisses warm in her ear. Sawatari’s eyes aren’t quite shut, not yet, but
he’s dropped his head down near the crook of her neck and his breath is
hitching again. It isn’t really surprising, somehow, and Masumi almost envies
him.
Then he’s got a hand under her shorts, between the yellow and the black—
"Don’t do that," she snaps, jerking away. Seeing him left there shamefaced, it
occurs to her that tangled up with his superiority complex is a need to be seen
as good, a desire to satisfy others. Smoothing out the yellow cloth, she tugs
at the black spandex beneath before adding, "Don’t do that kind of thing
without asking first. What were you trying to do?"
Sawatari swallows. “Well, if you want to be experienced for Professor Marco….”
The sentence hangs there like he’s expecting her to finish it, and when she
says nothing he exhales loud through his nose and continues. “I bet he’d want
to, y’know, do oral. If you’re not bothered by—”
"Are you asking if you can give me a blowjob?"
And again he just freezes up, recalculations running visible in his eyes,
before nodding once. Masumi considers this, their bodies, and says yes. After
all she’s enjoying this, the taste of a level of control her stubbornness has
not yet won her, and despite all his bluster it seems Sawatari likes being told
what to do. She stands, looking down at him, and removes her blue shirt. Before
she can slip out of the yellow one-piece, though, her holster needs to go.
She kicks his knee. “Hey, take this off.”
He squints at her but refrains from arguing, reaching out to unbuckle the
holster. When he goes to pull the second band down her leg his fingers brush
against her inner thighs and a feeling like static electricity sinks into her
stomach. She steps out of the holster quick, wriggling out of her clothes until
all she’s got on is her bra and underwear. Not ideal, but then she didn’t get
dressed with this in mind.
Already breathing heavily, Sawatari sits back on his heels. His face is at just
about the right height and he glances up at Masumi from under his bangs when
she moves closer, pushing herself against his cheek. Without shifting the
underwear he begins mouthing at her, tongue warm through the thin cotton, and
slides his hands up her legs to hold tight onto her rear. Then he’s yanking
down her panties and she closes her eyes; this at least is difficult to get
wrong. These days she no longer gets as hard but even so she can feel herself
responding, a heavy heat rising through her body, as Sawatari sucks with
increasing enthusiasm, small muffled noises escaping every now and then. It’s
starting to devolve into slurping, his swollen lips dragging sloppy along her
length and below it, when above them she hears a door open—
Masumi grabs his hair and holds his head still. With his face buried in her
crotch Sawatari can’t say anything but as the sound of footsteps starts echoing
down the stairwell he stiffens, looking up at her again with panic. The student
walks right past their hiding spot without any sign of noticing them, shutting
the door behind her with a reverberating slam, and Masumi relaxes her grip on
Sawatari’s hair. He starts to pull his head back, a question clear in the line
of his brows, but her hand stays firm, keeping him in place, so he just moves a
hand between her legs and presses at the tender join—
Everything telescopes to that one point, to his fingertips digging in, and she
can think only of his skin hot against hers, of his wet mouth—
Knees buckling, hips stuttering, she curls over him and comes, fingers tangled
tight in his hair. His throat works around her as he tries to swallow, choking
when he can’t keep up, and he shoves away from her with a wet gasp, unable to
stop it dripping down his chin. He keeps gagging and coughing, his face twisted
up, and she'd be insulted if she hadn't expected this from him.
Still shaky but mind clearing fast, Masumi turns her back and goes right for
her clothes. Once dressed she looks at him, with his hair mussed and his face
all flushed, and thinks of a gem in the rough. Well, perhaps that metaphor is
overwrought, yet there’s a certain vulnerability in his expression now that she
finds herself unable to ignore and he’s done this much for her so she may as
well do something in return.
"If you can tell me what you want," she says, "I’ll do it."
Focused on steadying his juddering breath, Sawatari only shakes his head. But
then he shifts, pulling his legs together under him, and he mumbles something
she does not catch.
"Say that again."
"Will you get me off?" Now he meets her stare, eyes bright with an embarrassed
defiance and something else bleeding through, and even if she still doesn’t
understand him she feels a growing tenderness—or maybe it’s pity.
Masumi pushes Sawatari down once more and grabs his knees, spreading them wide;
between his legs there’s a small patch where the red deepens into burgundy. She
touches it, finds it damp, and he turns his face away, breath going shaky
again, as she presses her thumb in as far as his trousers will allow. He
inhales sharp and loud, angling his hips towards her, but she stops and moves
to unzip his trousers and tug them down along with his briefs. Leaving them
bunched around his ankles, she kneels by his side and rests a hand on the
uncovered curve of dark hair.
"Tell me how to do it."
With his arms crossed over his face it’s a bit difficult to understand him but
it sounds like “Just put your fingers in,” and so she does.
It feels a lot like his mouth, is the first thing that pops into Masumi’s mind,
the same tight heat and wet friction. She tries crooking her fingers and
Sawatari arches his back, moaning quiet into his elbow. A second time and he
rolls his hips against her hand, shoving down onto her, and brings down one
hand to start rubbing rough at himself. His whimpers are getting clearer,
rising in volume, so she takes her free hand and holds it tight over his
mouth—it wouldn’t do for them to get caught now, so close to finishing—and he
keeps his eyes squeezed shut, barely visible under his arm, as he whines and
licks her palm—
Masumi leans heavy on him until she can feel teeth through his lips, a
smothered groan purring against her skin, and begins thrusting, going deep—
Gasping through his nose Sawatari goes rigid, straining, like he’d be thrashing
if he wasn’t held down. There’s a high-pitched hum starting in his throat and
it takes her a second to realize he’s wailing and then he’s coming hard around
her, trapping her fingers—
She keeps thrusting, riding him slow through the aftershocks, until he just
falls limp on the cold floor and it’s safe to uncover his mouth. As he lies
there, panting hoarsely, she wipes her hand on his belly and stands, waiting
for him to recover.
When he finally pulls up his trousers Masumi says, “Don’t you dare tell anyone
about this.” It comes out a bit harsher than she intends and he stares at her,
blush fading, then gives her a brief nod before shoving past her and out the
door.
Later, after Professor Marco’s been officially declared missing, Sawatari makes
eye contact with her in the halls then looks away.
End Notes
     thank you for reading. please leave kudos and/or comments if you can,
     they mean a lot to me
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
