A while ago someone asked if I had anymore headcanons about Naoto and her male inclinations.  Well, here’s another one  :)  I like Naoto all around, boy, girl, whatever. And I feel that, you know, after posing as a boy for so long, even if she’s o.k. with being a woman, those feelings still have to be there.

Leave it to Kanji to indulge Naoto.  

Definitely, DEFINITELY not worksafe.  

***

“… this is stupid.”

“Naoto.”

“It is!  T-this is-”

“I thought you wanted to try it.”

“I-I do, but… I look stupid.”

“How do you know?  I haven’t even seen ya yet.”

“And you are not going to.  I am not opening the door.”

Kanji sighs from the other side of Naoto’s bedroom door, leaning back against the wall.  As cute as her shyness is – and he’s one to talk, he had kept his feelings a not well kept secret for months – he wishes she would stop being so insecure about the whole thing.  It had been her idea to try this and he was willing to go with it, “Come on, Naoto, I bet ya look great.”

“… I…”

“Can’t be as bad as me in that dress at the pageant, yeah?”

“Do you realize how long ago that was?  Besides, you… did not look that bad.”

“…”

“Your legs are… rather impressive…”

“Well hey, if this works out, I’ll put on a dress again,” what the hell is he saying?!  But he’s desperately curious at this point and he really wants Naoto to open the door.

There’s a long sigh then the door opens.  Naoto is standing there, hat off her head and dressed in a tank top – compression shirt zipped up underneath – and a pair of boxers.  Kanji takes a moment to look over her, his eyes gazing in-between her legs.  He lets out a small moan when he sees the hint of a bulge in the boxer shorts.

“See?  Stupid.”

“Actually… i-it’s kinda hot.”

“E-excuse me?”

“Hot,” Kanji says again, unconsciously licking his lips, “You look like a hot boy right now.”

Naoto blushes, squirming a bit from where she’s standing, “… y-you are just saying that…”

“I’m not,” then Kanji smiles and takes Naoto’s hand, “Here, I’ll show ya.”

Naoto stumbles after Kanji in surprise when he pulls her over to the full length mirror in her bedroom.  Naoto tries to pull away, her face becoming more flushed, “K-Kanji, what are you-”

“Look.”

Naoto looks in the mirror, Kanji standing behind her.  In the mirror, in the clear eyes of the glass, stands a small young man with short strands of blue hair.  In the eyes of the glass it’s a boy, chest flat underneath the tank top, boxers loose and comfortable but the bulge quietly poking through them.  It’s store bought, of course, an idea Naoto had brought up a week ago that Kanji had surprisingly – or unsurprisingly – agreed to.  The straps are hidden by the shorts, the penis guaranteed to feel like “the real thing.”  Naoto has touched Kanji’s quite a bit and she can attest that the one she’s wearing feels fairly real.

She just… feels like a moron wearing it.  

“All right, yes, I appear to be a boy, but I… I am not a-”

“That’s not what this is about,” Kanji says, “Just… ain’t no one stoppin’ ya from bein’ a boy, if that’s what you want right now.”

“I realize that, but… how does this make me-”

“It doesn’t,” Kanji says.  Suddenly, his hands are on her hips and he’s slowly rubbing himself against her backside.  Jeans against boxer silk, Naoto can feel him, hard and turned on by the image in front of him, “The thing you’re wearin’ don’t make you a boy.  I do that,” he whispers.  

“Y-you…?  But how-”

“Just keep your eyes on the mirror.”

Naoto nods, watching the reflection in front of her.  One of Kanji’s hands has left her waist to brush in-between her legs.  She can feel his palm pressing against the penis she’s wearing.  It’s an odd sensation and she’s not quite sure how she’s supposed to react.  But he keeps rubbing his hand against her and she watches, imagines.  It’s a boy with a boy, it’s her as a boy with her – his – boyfriend.  She – he – can feel Kanji grinding against him, his hand moving faster, and suddenly Naoto’s body is working on autopilot.  

Naoto, the boy, is moving back against Kanji.  Naoto, the boy, is watching his hand slide into his boxers.  

When Kanji wraps his hand around the penis Naoto gasps at the image of a hand in his boxers, stroking him, up and down, then back up and back down.  Naoto can feel it, a tingle running down his body.  He knows how this is supposed to feel, can feel his cheeks getting warmer, body hotter.  

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Kanji whispers.

Naoto tries to respond but only ends up whimpering, legs shaking in the effort it takes to stay standing.  

Kanji pulls his hand away and leads Naoto over to the bed, “Sit down,” he says, and Naoto can only give in to the request.  Suddenly, Kanji is on his knees, spreading Naoto’s legs and rubbing his cheek against the stiff member in the boxer shorts.  Naoto’s eyes widen, logic trying to come crashing in.  Logically, there’s no way this could be pleasurable.  Imagination is fine, but the bottom line is this is fake, something purchased, something that Naoto doesn’t really have.

But when Kanji brushes his lips against the boxers, letting out this low sound that erupts from the back of his throat, for the first time in Naoto’s life logic takes a back seat.

Naoto brushes his fingers through Kanji’s hair, whispering a soft plea of, “Please.”  Kanji is more than happy to comply and slides the boxers down to Naoto’s ankles, applying gently kisses to his inner thigh until the boxers hit the ground.  Naoto is whimpering now, gripping onto the edge of the bed.  Kanji keeps kissing at his thighs, around the dark straps that help create this enticing image of a small, beautiful boyfriend.  

Kanji’s not sure if this is what a penis is supposed to feel like.  He’s touched his own, of course, especially during those months of crushing on a certain detective.  But he’s not sure if this is how it’s supposed to feel in his mouth.  He knows what Naoto feels like, has had the pleasure of sliding his tongue against Naoto the girl several times, so he tries to apply that texture to this moment.  Slick, moist, and a taste that he can’t get enough off, Kanji keeps his hands on Naoto’s legs as he closes his eyes and hums around the hardness in his mouth.  

Naoto tries to remember how this works.  Naoto the girl has done this to Kanji before, has felt his reactions.  He would always try to stay in control but would end up muttering shit shit shit, bucking his hips into her mouth, grabbing onto her hair.  So Naoto tries that.  Naoto gently grabs onto Kanji’s hair, thrusting his hips up and – oh, actually, the sound Kanji makes is rather nice indeed.  Naoto thrusts his hips up again, and again, fingers growing tighter in his hair.  Suddenly, they’re building up a rhythm.  Suddenly, they’re moaning together.  Suddenly it’s absolutely, positively two boyfriends going at it on a Sunday afternoon, sun shining outside and peaking in through a couple of un-closed blinds.  

Kanji is able to reach his climax through pure imagination, the image of Naoto releasing into his mouth, the taste it leaves on the tip of his tongue.  When Kanji pulls back Naoto lays back on the bed, panting and trying to catch his breath.  

“Did you…” Kanji starts to stay, still trying to breathe.

“… I… y-yes… and you?”

“Yeah,” he says, standing up so he can sit on the edge of the bed.  He smiles as he looks down at Naoto.  Small and exhausted, a few strands of hair sticking to his sweat covered forehead, Kanji can’t help but say, “My boyfriend is fucking hot.”

Naoto looks up at Kanji and gives him a sweet smile, “So when does your boyfriend get to have you in a dress?”

“Aw shit,” Kanji says with a laugh, “you remember I said that, huh?”

And Naoto laughs with him, closing his eyes as he lays in bed as Kanji Tatsumi’s boyfriend.

***

Note:  I am not an expert on sex toys, so if that whole description of a strap-on seemed kinda lame, that would be why?