Second Chances

Part 26

Hira flipped through the limited clothes that Kiyoi had at the house and pursed his lips, before shaking his head. Nothing would work for his portrait. He sighed and then went to his father's left behind clothes in the back storage room. He knew, somewhere, was his father's older Yukata's that didn't fit him. 

Slowly, Hira pulled out the carefully folded pile of dove grey silk. He had always thought his father looked impressive, almost intimidating, wearing this as they walked along the road to the festivals, with his mother and he, dressed in kimonos. He sighed as he saw the colors of his last kimono. Slowly, he fingered the aging silks, and then, carefully, covered it back up with the cotton paper.

Shaking off the memories, he stood up, when he saw the Montsuki. It had been his Grandfather's, on his father's side. Instead of being folded, it hung, draped on a mannequin, covered by a sheet. "Kiyoi!" He yelled, "Come help me."

Kiyoi stared when he entered the jammed packed storage room. It had an air of ancient remnants of history, unlike the rest of the house. "Hira..." He paused, and slowly spun around, taking it all in, "What is all this?"

Hira shrugged. "History. Here, come take this." He thrust the pile of dove grey silk in his hands and walked over to the mannequin. Without ceremony, he picked it up and carried it out of the room, leaving Hira standing in the storage room with his hands full of the silk.

"Kiyoi? Are you coming?" 

With one last, longing look, Kiyoi glanced back. History... Hira had all of this and he had nothing. He sighed with longing, wondering if he knew how precious all of that history was. "I'm coming. What's this for, Hira?" He repeated as he followed him out of the intriguing room.

Hira had that dangerous look. Kiyoi shivered as he put the armful of rough woven silk down. "Hira? What's this for?"

In that famous deadpan voice, with glittery eyes, Hira stared at him. "The photo shoot." He reached for the bundle of silk and gently took it from Kiyoi. "Strip." He didn't stay to watch, instead he began to unfold the silk, and Kiyoi's eyes widened as the yukata appeared. 

"Oh, I understand." He took off the casual tee shirt he had worn all day, and hesitated with his jeans. "Hira? I think I want a bath before I put that on. It deserves a clean body." He rubbed his smooth belly, waiting for his answer. 

The silk was now spread out, and Hira was examining it to see if it needed any pressing or cleaning. Instead of answering, he waved his hand, then looked up. "Do you want to wear traditional undergarments, modern or nothing?"

"Excuse me?" Kiyoi's belly flipped. "Will I wear what underneath?"

Hira walked closer, running his fingertip down to his button on his jeans. "Think of how fabric feels against you, with or without covering." He closed his eyes, as Hira tugged on the button. "Do you need help?" The double entendre made him meet the solid, black glittery orbs, closer than he needed, right now. 

Kiyoi's blood sang, hotter than it should be. His member was tight, restrained within the briefs and jeans. I'm doomed... commando or traditional and the whole damn world will know I can't stop thinking about the fact I can't stop thinking about fucking my lover!

A soft pat on Kiyoi's extra warm, tight abdomen and Hira swiftly inhaled. "Go bathe. I want to dress you, then take your pictures." It was only then, Kiyoi realized, despite Hira's deadpan face and voice, he too, was just as aroused. His hand stretched out and he grabbed his crotch, cupping it. 

"Mm." Glancing through his lashes, Kiyoi nodded. "I will. Now." He felt relief, knowing he wasn't alone. Swiftly, he left the room, or they wouldn't be taking no pictures tonight.