Work Text:
Sanemi shivered against a gust of wind as he shoved his keys into the door, jiggling them at the point they stuck, then shoving his shoulder against the door just so— The door wrenched open with a loud creak, and Sanemi stepped inside. Fix the fucking door, he reminded himself for the tenth (or fiftieth) time, glaring at it as he forced it closed again. He turned and braced himself as a furry body came barreling down the hall, barking and whining loudly. Sanemi grinned, gripping the dog’s ruff and shaking his head gently.
“Kuma,” Sanemi greeted, crouching down. Kuma danced around him, tail wagging aggressively.
“Sanemi?” Giyu’s voice called from further in the house.
“Yeah,” Sanemi called back as he straightened. Kuma sat down, waiting patiently as Sanemi shucked off his coat and dropped his keys and messenger bag on the entry table, slipping out of his snow-damp shoes. “Just me.”
Warmth enveloped him as he stepped further into the apartment, along with the savory smells of salmon, potatoes, carrots. He sighed, the relief of being home stripping away some of his weariness from the extended work hours he was pulling. He followed the sound of Giyu’s voice down the hall and into the kitchen where he found his fiancé standing at the stove, one hand stirring a steaming pot, another holding his phone and scrolling through what looked like a recipe, likely the one he was preparing.
“What are you making?” Sanemi asked as he came into the kitchen. Kuma followed and settled himself on his mat in the corner. “It smells good.”
“Sanpeijiru,” Giyu said, his voice vague, distracted.
“Ambitious…” Sanemi said.
“Good for a cold day,” Giyu corrected, glancing over his shoulder. “Why did you have to stay late this time?”
“It’s always the same thing. This project is shit,” Sanemi sighed, leaning on the counter. He raked a hand through his hair, then shook it out.
Giyu hummed in disapproval. “What else is new?” he said, closing his phone and setting it on the counter. “If I’d known it was going to start snowing so hard, though, I would have waited for you. This is why we should take two cars.”
“It’s fine, I called a cab,” Sanemi said. He watched as Giyu leaned over the stove, looking into the pot, his loose black hair falling forward as steam wafted around him. “You’re going to get your hair in the food,” Sanemi commented. “Again.”
Giyu shot him a glare. “Smartass,” he chided, but he pulled the spoon from the soup and set it down, pulling a tie from his wrist and gathering his hair into his hands. The pale column of Giyu’s neck appeared as he pulled back the ebony veil, gathering and regathering loose sections as they fell free, and Sanemi’s eyes snapped to it. Threads of familiar desire wound through him, fingers curling unconsciously, heart skipping ever so slightly. God, Giyu was gorgeous. Even after more than a year together, Sanemi couldn’t seem to grow used to it. Dark hair framing near-flawless features, eyes like cut gems, shit. Looking at Giyu was like looking at art, a man that was almost more sculpture than human. Only a sculpture never made such pretty sounds as Giyu when it was kissed.
Sanemi shifted off the counter, sidling over to Giyu as he finished fixing his hair in a messy knot on his head and retrieved his spoon, returning to his gentle stirring.
“Sanemi…” Giyu warned as Sanemi stopped behind him, a hand landing low on his waist.
“Hm?” Sanemi hummed, leaning forward, lips ghosting over the back of Giyu’s exposed neck, the tip of his nose tracing his spine.
Giyu made an annoyed sound. “I’m cooking.”
“Then don’t let me distract you,” Sanemi purred, the words brushed against velvet skin, his grip on Giyu’s waist getting tighter, dropping to his hip. He pressed a step closer to Giyu, the scant space between them vanishing.
“You are inherently distracting—” Giyu’s voice cut off with a hitched breath as Sanemi’s mouth pressed to the slope where his neck met his shoulder, then worked his way up one slow kiss at a time. Open mouth sealed against skin, his tongue languidly stroked Giyu’s throat, and Sanemi felt the pulse beneath his mouth as it began to race. Giyu’s hand had stopped stirring now, his fingers loose on the spoon. Tension mounted in Sanemi, even as he felt it rise in Giyu, evident in the taut muscles of his throat and the stiff set of his spine. Sanemi’s hand wound around Giyu’s waist and held him tighter, Giyu’s ass pressing against Sanemi in a way that made him lightheaded. He wanted to wring the tension from him bit by bit, wanted to feel him unwind, wanted him to let go of his control, wanted him to give it to Sanemi.
“If you want dinner…” Giyu said breathlessly, “Then…this needs to stop…” But he did nothing to push Sanemi’s mouth away from his throat where he was slowly painting him with splashes of burgundy. He did nothing to pull away.
“It’s not my fault that you’re so fucking pretty,” Sanemi growled as he reached Giyu’s ear, nipping at its curve.
“Sanemi,” Giyu gasped as Sanemi’s teeth found purchase on his neck, biting gently, sucking at his skin until Giyu made a low, desperate sound. Music, Sanemi thought, the sound buzzing in his head, and he wanted more of it.
“Do you want me to stop?” Sanemi teased, one hand massaging into Giyu’s hip while the other slipped beneath the hem of his shirt and traced up the lean muscle of his abdomen. He felt Giyu tremble beneath his touch, and tremors whispered through Sanemi’s own body, the hot coil of want low in his belly begging for more. His voice was ragged now when he hissed in a voice that was as much plea as demand, “Tell me, Giyu. Tell me… what you want.”
Giyu’s composure collapsed. Suddenly he was turning in Sanemi’s arms, taking Sanemi’s face in his hands, and his lips crashed into Sanemi’s, hungry and consuming. Triumphant, Sanemi kissed Giyu back with reckless abandon, chasing his lips, desperate to taste him, addicted to the feel of his teeth catching his lips, the sweep of his tongue against his palate, unable to get enough. His hands dragged down Giyu’s back, gripping the curve of his ass. The soup was forgotten as Sanemi lifted Giyu easily onto the counter top of the island, fitting himself in the space between his thighs, deft hands quickly working at the buttons of his shirt. Their lips never parted as Giyu ran his hands into Sanemi’s hair and held him captive, tangling soft white locks around long fingers at his nape.
Finally the marble perfection of Giyu’s torso appeared as his shirt fell open, sculpted planes of alabaster making Sanemi weak. He dragged his mouth from Giyu’s only so he could worship the beauty of his body, kissing the lines of his chest, hands running down his thighs. He was rewarded with the gasp of Giyu’s breath, quickly chased by a low moan as his tongue traced the pink bud of Giyu’s nipple, and his fingers found the buckle of his belt. Pretty, pretty, the sounds that Giyu made when he started to come undone.
Sanemi’s senses buzzed, every one singing with desire to hear more, feel more, see more, taste more. The snick of Giyu’s belt coming loose rang in Sanemi’s ears, and every touch of Giyu’s hands on him raced through him, electrifying. He looked up into Giyu’s face as his fingers trailed below the waistband of Giyu’s pants, teasing. Their eyes locked, the ocean-blue of Giyu’s gaze dark with desire as he watched Sanemi, challenging him, and a thrill raced through Sanemi.
Just as he was about to pull Giyu off the counter so that he could be rid of the last unnecessary bits of clothing, a loud hissing erupted behind him. Giyu’s eyes snapped away from Sanemi and widened.
“Damn it” he said, pushing Sanemi aside and slipping off the counter top, rushing over to the stove to turn it off as the soup he’d been making boiled over the sides, pouring across the stove top. He turned on the microwave fan as smoke from the food that had fallen onto the burner began to waft up, waving his hand and stirring the soup to try and settle the foam that had risen up and sloshed over the sides, until finally he gave up on trying to save it and stepped back.
The silence was thick between them as they stood side by side, disheveled and unkempt, their hair messy, their skin flushed, looking at the ruin that had been their dinner.
“This is your fault,” Giyu accused, folding his arms.
Sanemi grimaced, reeling slightly from the abrupt interruption. His body ached to pick up where they left off, but looking at Giyu, arms folded, scowling at the mess, Sanemi suspected the moment may have passed. He hummed apologetically, not denying the accusation. “So…” he finally said. “Pizza then?”
Giyu cast a sideways glare at him, then grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards their bedroom.
“Not until you pay for ruining dinner,” he said, looking back over his shoulder with a wicked glint in his eyes, lips turning up slightly.
Sanemi’s heart jumped and his stomach twisted in anticipation. Perfection, when Giyu looked at him with those eyes, that smile. Sanemi grinned and dragged Giyu back into his arms, kissing him hard. Stumbling into their room, they collapsed together onto their bed.
“That,” Sanemi murmured, pushing the stray hair off Giyu’s face, stroking his cheek, grinning at him fondly. “That, I can do.”