Work Text:
The clock in their pristinely organized and mostly untouched kitchen cheerily announces it’s 4 am when Kyoya finally stumbles through the darkened front door of their apartment. After a layover that should have taken three hours morphing into six, then into two canceled flights due to weather, all he wants to do is shower and collapse into bed.
Normally, Kyoya wouldn’t mind - he’s had worse travel experiences in his life, especially in high school when everything was wild and untamed - but he’s never had someone eagerly awaiting his return before. It was his first trip abroad since they moved in together, and Kyoya has never felt such a deep, unending ache in the absence of that warm presence at his side.
Two weeks apart should not feel like a lifetime.
As if on queue, an amorphous orb of darkness toddles over to him, rubbing furiously at his pant legs and weaving between his feet. Noir, their six month old black cat that is more fur than creature, purrs low like a motor engine as she welcomes Kyoya home, nipping affectionately at his toes and ankles with sharp, needle-like teeth. At some point she will lose her ridiculous fluff and turn into a normal cat, but for now she is nothing but a ball of fur and two empty, striking green eyes.
Though he would normally provide her much needed pets and treats, right now Kyoya’s mind is singularly focused. His exhaustion is bone-deep, but there is a tether to the mooring of his heart and as much as he would like to flop into bed, he feels it tug him across the floor of their eclectically kept (and fabulously designed) flat to the end of the hall where gentle, warm light filters through the cracks of a door. Like Kyoya is a ship lost at sea and the beacon of light is his salvation, Kyoya discards his bags and shoes as he goes, heedless of where they end up as his focus sharpens.
The door is barely ajar and Kyoya slowly nudges it open with his foot just enough to allow himself to slip inside. What greets him is what could be generously described as “organized chaos”. This office is covered from head to toe with shelving, stacked high with various fabrics, sketchbooks, ribbons, dyes, and all manner of fashionable odds and ends. Kyoya takes only passing notice of the mannequin in the corner of the room wearing what looks like a half-finished dress, a cream chiffon shawl tacked to its beige shoulders. No, Kyoya’s focus is, as always, drawn to the man at the center of it all, crouched over a cluttered desk with his orange-red head resting on his arms.
As Kyoya slowly approaches he can’t help but notice the figure is wearing one of his shirts, all buttons opened save for the one in the middle clinging on with all its might. The fabric shifts with the gentle rise and fall of his lover’s chest as he breathes deeply, and Kyoya’s chest pangs with affection - of course Kaoru would try to stay up for him.
Gently as he can, Kyoya presses soft kiss after soft kiss to Kaoru’s face - nose, cheeks, forehead, everywhere he can reach but his lips - Kyoya’s fingers running soothingly through Kaoru’s messy copper hair. The action does its job as Kaoru begins to rouse, his stunning golden eyes fluttering open in an effort to blink away the clinging claws of sleep.
Oh, but when those gorgeous eyes adjust to the low light and focus on him, surprise and relief and excitement and pure adoration flashing across them in quick succession, Kyoya can’t help the way he smiles.
Heedless of his desk, Kaoru launches into Kyoya’s arms with a cry, wrapping his arms around him as his chair clatters to the floor. Kyoya responds just as fiercely, holding Kaoru tightly to his chest. He lets himself melt into the familiar embrace and takes a moment just to take him in - the weight of Kaoru’s body against his own, the faint, pretty mix of vanilla and citrus from Kaoru’s cologne. It’s a balm to the ache inside him, and judging from how Kaoru trembles in his arms, he can only assume the feeling is mutual.
It’s even better when Kaoru breaks their silence, voice warbling as he tries - and fails - to sound upset.
“I was trying to wait up for you!” Kaoru admonishes even as he squeezes the air out of Kyoya’s lungs and nuzzles into his neck, “You could have at least called when you landed!”
Chest swelling with emotion, Kyoya can do nothing but laugh, holding Kaoru back just as tightly. “And ruin the surprise? Perish the thought.”
Kaoru pulls back just enough to make his pronounced pout known. “ I was the one who was supposed to surprise you when you got home,” he complains, even as he tries to hold back a smile, “Must you always ruin my carefully laid out plans?”
“Why darling,” Kyoya smirks, curling a hand around the back of Kaoru’s neck to play with the short hairs he finds there, “I thought ruining each other’s plans was what we did best.”
The low, warm light from Kaoru’s desk lamp sparkles in his eyes when he laughs. It’s far too much for Kyoya to take. “Only when I’m the one who gets to - !”
Enough talking. Surging forward, Kyoya captures Kaoru’s lips in a slow, gentle way that has both of them sighing. They fit together like pieces of an intricate and extravagant puzzle, slotting into place with a slide of their lips.
Pleased to be done with words, Kaoru sweeps Kyoya into a series of languid kisses, humming contentedly against him. Kaoru is pliant and warm from sleep, his arms wrapping lazily around Kyoya’s shoulders to pull him that much closer. Kyoya’s hands slide down to their places at Kaoru’s hips, pinching him playfully.
Kaoru gasps against Kyoya’s lips and he wastes no time in indulging them both by pressing his tongue inside. It’s a slow, sweet slide of give and take, remapping the inside of each other’s mouths after such a painful separation.
Knowing Kaoru, however, sweet and slow is replaced by hot and insistent in the blink of an eye. There’s an underlying desperation and need to be closer, to be connected, that runs through them, and Kyoya refuses to deny either of them the need. Two weeks is far too long, and Kaoru mewls softly when Kyoya takes advantage of the nearby shelving and presses Kaoru up against it.
Kaoru sighs into his mouth, fingers brushing up Kyoya’s neck into his hair as his hips tilt toward him. Fire lights from every point of contact, thrumming through them from their sloppy, indulgent kisses to the pads of Kyoya’s fingers where they press into the dip of Kaoru’s hip bones. Kyoya can’t stop the way he pushes Kaoru up more against the shelving, forcing their mouths and hips together in an indecent roll of their bodies.
The desperate, insistent slide of Kaoru’s tongue makes something in Kyoya’s brain pop and fizzle, and he inhales deeply as he slides his hands up Kaoru’s sides beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, relishing in how Kaoru lifts into him. It presses Kaoru closer, presses their hips together in a rough grind, and they both groan as their hardening lengths brush together through too many layers of clothing.
Kaoru squirms against him, tugging at Kyoya’s hair sharply until it starts to sting, and Kyoya breaks from Kaoru’s swollen lips with a guttural noise that’s pulled straight from his chest. It’s how Kaoru lets him know he’s moving too slowly. Well, Kyoya knows how to remedy that. One of his knees lands between Kaoru’s legs and Kaoru eyes flash with understanding before he immediately begins to grind himself down.
Kaoru moans, tilting his head back as he rubs against Kyoya’s thigh, the thin fabric of Kaoru’s shorts doing little to hide the way his confined cock twitches at the press of their bodies. It is agonizing to watch. Kyoya’s blood rushes south, his length pressing painfully behind the tight line of his slacks, but he is well versed in staving off his own needs to feed his insatiable partner.
Kaoru deserves only the best, after all.
Kyoya’s hands glide lower, slipping beneath the fabric of Kaoru’s far too short and far too soft lounge shorts to squeeze his ass, the muscle tight and twitching against his palms. He starts kneading until Kaoru whimpers, his head falling back as he greedily drags his clothed erection against Kyoya’s thigh.
Eager fingers delve further, seeking that precious entrance Kyoya knows so well, but Kyoya is stunned to find something blocking his path. His index finger brushes against hard, tapered metal nestled perfectly in the cleft of Kaoru’s ass, and he lets out a slow, steadying breath. He rolls it between his fingers experimentally and it’s like Kaoru’s body is a livewire, arching and shuddering against him. He moans embarrassingly loud.
They both still and Kyoya swears he can hear the flush that crawls up Kaoru’s neck, tinting his ears red before Kaoru hides his face in the crook of Kyoya’s neck.
Not that such a coquettish act will stop Kyoya from knowing exactly what he is currently circling with his thumb and forefinger.
A mixture between a growl and a question rumbles through Kyoya’s chest, his voice low and raspy like gravel. “Kaoru - “
Kaoru grinds back down on Kyoya’s knee, rolling his hips into Kyoya’s warm palms. “You - ” Kaoru hisses, breathless, “You were supposed to be home hours ago.”
Kyoya presses the base of the toy. It must shift, because Kaoru shudders in his arms and stifles a sob against his shoulder, hips jolting weakly in Kyoya’s grip.
Well then.
Kyoya allows his lips to glide down Kaoru’s throat and over the soft sweep of his shoulder, pinching his teeth around that supple flesh until Kaoru is gasping out his name.
“If that is the case,” Kyoya hums against Kaoru’s burning skin, relishing in how Kaoru shudders against him, “Then I will just have to make it up to you, won’t I?”
Kaoru tightens his fingers in Kyoya’s hair.
Whatever clever retort that was building in Kaoru’s chest is immediately replaced by a cry as Kyoya begins to ease the toy out, intentionally, agonizingly slow. Sharp, perfectly manicured nails dig into his skull, but Kyoya just growls low in his throat and drags his teeth against the delicate skin of Kaoru’s neck.
Kyoya is careful to keep the blunt head of the toy inside before stilling. Kaoru blinks his unfocused, glassy eyes open in anticipation.
Then Kyoya shoves the toy back in firmly.
“ Ah!” Kaoru inhales, tossing his head back against the shelves.
Music to Kyoya’s ears.
He starts a brutal rhythm then, thrusting the toy in and out as tension crawls up Kaoru’s spine, shivering out half moans and thin gasps of words he can’t fully form. Kaoru still valiantly attempts to match Kyoya’s movements, grinding in an obscene roll of his hips even as he starts to tremble beneath Kyoya’s touch.
The tip of Kaoru’s cock peeks out just above the top of his waistband, pearls of milky precum beading from the head, and Kyoya hums in satisfaction before slipping his free hand between their bodies to smear it with his thumb. It’s just a touch too gentle - he knows it’s not nearly enough pressure to satisfy Kaoru - but it is enough to leave him quivering and whimpering in Kyoya’s arms.
“Kyoya,“ Kaoru pleads in a small, fragile voice.
Smirking, Kyoya grazes Kaoru’s earlobe with his teeth, then closes his lip around it and sucks. Kaoru hisses, sobs, arches at the attention, fisting in Kyoya’s hair and pulling until Kyoya is groaning, his senses turning feral.
“Good?” Kyoya rumbles against Kaoru’s ear, swirling his thumb around the head of Kaoru’s twitching, leaking cock, “Is this what you wanted?”
Kaoru’s shoulders draw together tightly, chest hiccuping.
Kyoya laves his tongue along the shell of Kaoru’s ear with a well-timed thrust of the toy, and that’s all it takes.
An animal noise leaves Kaoru’s throat as he shudders, his features squeezing in exquisite agony and bliss. His hips jump in Kyoya’s hands, head thrown back as his back arches, and hot cum splashes between them.
A hum of approval rises in Kyoya’s chest as he slows to a stop, though he wouldn’t dare remove his hands. Not when it feels like Kaoru would melt into the ground if he wasn’t holding him up.
“Did it feel good, Kaoru?” Kyoya asks, gently grabbing the base of the toy and twisting. Kaoru lets out a low, pitiful sound that shoots through Kyoya’s body, igniting him beneath his skin.
“Yes,” Kaoru whines, voice breathless and shaky, “Y-Yes, but it’s - ”
“‘But it’s’?” Kyoya pushes the plug back in and taps its base for good measure, watching greedily as Kaoru’s contorts, his eyes flickering open and closed as he fights to form words.
Tears cling to Kaoru’s beautiful eyelashes and he slaps Kyoya’s shoulder lightly. “It’s not enough - “ he says all in a rush, “I need…I need - ”
“Tell me what you need, Kaoru,” Kyoya rumbles. He leans in to suck a bruise on Kaoru’s bare collarbone - replacing the one that had faded after two weeks of neglect - and smooths his hands down Kaoru’s chest. Kaoru squirms, fingers finally releasing from their shaking purchase in his hair to dig into Kyoya’s shoulders. The button that had been holding Kaoru's shirt closed is easy enough to pop open and Kyoya kisses a feather-light trail from Kaoru’s collarbone to his nipple, giving it a lazy lick just to relish in how Kaoru gasps.
“You are beautiful. You know that, Kaoru?” Kyoya purrs, “Truly a specimen.” His licks turn into insistent sucking. Then he bites; takes the nipple between his teeth and pulls on it, flicking and twisting the other with his fingers.
Kaoru whimpers, eyes fluttering and breathing hitched, and the sound is absolutely maddening to listen to. Kyoya could truly do this for hours - and he has - just listening to the full array of sounds he’s able to pull from Kaoru’s delectable throat.
But it’s been too long, and as much as Kyoya enjoys pulling Kaoru apart in all the best ways imaginable, the insistent need pulsing beneath his skin makes it hard to take things slow.
Kaoru must think so too, because he shoves Kyoya back - not roughly, but enough to give himself some breathing space from Kyoya’s wandering lips and hands - his golden eyes wild and hands shaking.
“Bedroom,” Kaoru hisses, “Now.”
“Bossy.” Kyoya smirks. But he tugs Kaoru forward all the same, pulling him back into his embrace with an indulgent and almost too-sweet kiss.
They stumble into their bedroom, tripping over each other as they desperately pull at each other's clothes, stopping only to exchange heated, open mouthed kisses and nip at each other’s exposed skin. When Kaoru flops onto the bed, tossing his unneeded and ruined shorts somewhere into their room, his flush is high on his cheeks and his breath is hiccuping in anticipation. Kyoya wastes no time in crawling up his body, hands sliding up Kaoru’s smooth legs with deep seated hunger.
It’s only now, when Kyoya finally has Kaoru laid out on their bed, that he grants himself the view he’s been waiting for. He pushes Kaoru’s legs apart to look properly at his hole and the base of the toy sticking out of it, and groans low in his throat. Kaoru’s puckered hole is pink from use, clenching and unclenching against the hard, unyielding metal. The plug is one they’ve used before, one of Kaoru’s favorites, and has a flared base decorated with mother of pearl and a diamond inlay. It sparkles in the moonlight, painting Kaoru’s pale skin in dancing rays.
Kyoya has to take a moment to just admire him, this stunning beauty against his sheets.
It’s moments like this that Kyoya is convinced Kaoru must be some sort of ethereal being. Bathed in the moon, his fiery hair halos him against the pillows, chest flushed a pretty shade of pink from arousal. Kaoru’s nipples are spit-slick and red from Kyoya’s lips, hard from the attention, and golden eyes flash behind fluttering eyelids. His hip bones are angled perfection underneath his smooth skin, and his pretty pink cock, erect and leaning against his belly, dribbles precum. It smears against the pale skin of his stomach and Kyoya wants nothing more than to devour, to worship, to claim.
“Sen…senpai,” Kaoru murmurs, voice strained and breathless, “Please…”
And who is Kyoya to deny him?
He puts both hands on Kaoru’s legs and nudges them up and to the sides. He leaves butterfly kisses on his inner thigh, coaxing Kaoru to spread them further, and he lets out a groan of approval when Kaoru complies.
He reaches down, finally, and eases the toy out. The sound it makes - loud and wet - makes heat flood Kyoya’s veins. He watches in pure agony as Kaoru’s hole twitches around nothing, slick with lube and so perfect.
Kyoya pushes a finger inside easily, a testament to how well the plug kept Kaoru nice and open for him, and he groans against the pale skin of Kaoru’s thigh as he adds a second. “You are truly exquisite,” Kyoya murmurs, voice raw and hoarse.
Kaoru’s breath hitches, his whole body trembling, goosebumps rising across his exposed skin. Kyoya will never get over how sensitive he is. Just a delicious combination of feisty, bratty, and needy, and Kyoya is nothing if not compliant to his wants. Even with the plug keeping him nice and open, Kaoru is disturbingly hot and equally tight and it drives Kyoya downright feral. Smooth, lolling walls wind around his touch, and he knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers.
Kaoru wails. The lustful, wanton crack of his voice is as sweet as sugar and as addictive as the most potent drug, and Kyoya feels his hips tip upward at the sound, tension tight across his body.
“Needy,” Kyoya teases, even as the strain in his voice betrays his own desires. Kaoru responds by rocking his hips into the touch, strong and certain.
Whimpers of Kyoya’s name tumble from Kaoru’s kiss-red lips as Kyoya thrusts and curls with hard, calculated purpose. Kyoya relishes in the way Kaoru’s eyes roll in the back of his head, the way his hips jump and shudder under Kyoya’s deliberate movements.
It’s a delicious, delirious sort of high when he watches Kaoru’s cock twitch against his stomach, a fresh, sticky glob of precum dripping onto his fluttering abs. Kyoya is dizzy with want, and that deep-seated need to fulfill them both overtakes his desire to drag this out the way he normally would.
It’s been too long, and his cock is so hard it’s painful, still trapped in his slacks. Kaoru’s warmth is enough to drive Kyoya mad, his insides burning hot. There is nothing he wants more than to delve into the stifling heat and feel the gripping pleasure.
Kyoya leans in for another kiss, all teeth and tongue and the inferno of passion he doesn’t bother to keep down, pouring all his pent-up energy into Kaoru’s lips.
Slipping his fingers from Kaoru is agonizing, and the moan Kaoru releases is low and animal in a way that moves against Kyoya’s bones. Kyoya watches Kaoru’s body rattle with emptiness and he presses a placating kiss to Kaoru’s shoulder.
Kaoru is not one to be placated, however. In a flurry, his hands latch on to Kyoya’s shirt, fingers unsteady and grasping at the buttons as his mouth takes in Kyoya’s lower lip. He gets Kyoya’s shirt undone with a hungry, mewling noise and Kyoya hasn’t even finished shrugging it off before Kaoru is moving to pull his undershirt over his head and bare Kyoya’s chest for his eager touch.
“Hurry up,” Kaoru insists, the words rasping out of his throat as he greedily runs his hands across Kyoya’s broad shoulders and drags his perfectly manicured nails along his skin. Kaoru’s hips start gyrating against Kyoya’s, grinding whatever friction he can. It’s maddening, intoxicating.
“Bossy,” Kyoya hums again, even as he strains his neck to suck at Kaoru’s lithe throat. The leather from Kyoya’s belt hisses as he pulls it free, losing his decorum in his haste as he tosses it aside, somewhere in the dark of their bedroom. His pants and boxer briefs follow shortly after and Kyoya kicks them off his legs unceremoniously to the floor.
It’s only when he’s fully bare that Kaoru threads his hands in Kyoya’s hair and pulls him down into a bruising, searing kiss.
Kyoya wants his hands everywhere. Hips and shoulders and hair, wants to remap Kaoru’s body with his hands and his tongue. Wants Kaoru a writhing mess against him and to work him to orgasm over and over until he’s nothing but putty between their sheets. His palms glide across every expanse of skin, twitching and clenching fingers into flesh when their lengths bump against one another, the flash of burning heat enough to stall both of them. Kyoya swallows the grunt that attempts to rise in his throat, but he can’t hide the heavy spill of precum over the head of his cock, slicking against Kaoru’s as it bumps against his skin.
Two weeks is far too long.
Trembling, he liberally coats his cock with lube from their bedside table and touches his head to the puckered flesh of Kaoru’s entrance, echoed by a chorus of Kaoru’s desperate little “ yes”s and those perfect nails digging sharply into his shoulders.
His cockhead fits perfectly into the indent of Kaoru’s body like it belongs there, like Kaoru is beckoning him in, desperate and oh so ready.
Even so, Kyoya pushes in slow, watching his cock spread Kaoru wide as his rim grips at the thick, rounded head of Kyoya’s length.
“Fuck,” Kyoya hisses, nipping at Kaoru’s jaw, “How are you still so tight?”
All Kaoru can offer him is a whimper, expression unguarded and completely undone. Kyoya sinks deeper, knocking the breath from his lungs as he seats himself inside where they both know he belongs.
“ Aah,” Kaoru breathes, a genuine sigh of ecstasy and relief as Kyoya fully bottoms out. Kyoya can only echo that sentiment as he groans against Kaoru’s throat. He can’t help it, not when he’s staring at true magnificence, touching pure perfection, sinking into oblivion.
Kyoya begins to rock his hips and Kaoru tangles his fingers in Kyoya’s hair, throwing his head forward to retake Kyoya’s mouth in his, huffing and whimpering against his lips. It’s more teeth and tongue than the gentle suckling from earlier, and Kaoru has to break away to breathe, exposing his beautiful skin to Kyoya’s eager teeth. Kyoya presses his lips to Kaoru’s ear, breath hot.
“You fit me so perfectly, Kaoru,” he groans, relishing in how Kaoru’s body convulses against him from the touch. Kaoru’s sensitive ears are truly a blessing, and Kyoya accentuates the reaction with a roll of his tongue around the shell of Kaoru’s ear.
Kaoru sobs, nails raking down Kyoya’s shoulders and back in a desperate attempt to ground himself, but Kyoya doesn’t give him the chance.
He keeps his hips going, cock moving in heavy motions that slam their hips together. It forces a noise from Kaoru as if knocked straight from his chest.
“Good,” Kyoya purrs, mouthing at Kaoru’s ear, “You’re so good for me.” Kaoru whimpers, hips jerking at the words, and Kyoya slides his hands almost too gently down Kaoru’s sides.
He feels his blood mounting in his veins and knows he has to up the ante soon if he anticipates sating Kaoru the way he deserves before he reaches his own release, and shifts.
With rough, deliberate movements, Kyoya pulls back and hikes one of Kaoru’s long, lithe legs over his shoulder. He slides nearly all the way out, leaving just the thick, fat head of his cock seated inside Kaoru’s slick, wet heat. Kaoru is fully splayed out for him now, stretched out and fully at Kyoya’s mercy.
Just the way they like it.
Kaoru looks up at Kyoya then, chest heaving. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes are almost all pupil - black, unfocused, and glassy. Kyoya smirks, unable to stop himself, and Kaoru’s chest hiccups in anticipation.
It’s the only sign either of them give before Kyoya slams back in to the hilt, and Kaoru screams. And then it’s no longer slow or gentle - it’s a brutal, deliberate pace that Kyoya knows will bring tears to Kaoru’s eyes and steal his breath. He thrusts into Kaoru fully, quickly, and watches as Kaoru’s expression crumbles around pain and pleasure as he’s split on Kyoya’s cock. He slides in and out of Kaoru with long, forceful thrusts, aimed with precision only years of practice can give him. If Kaoru’s cries form words, they are lost to the roaring rush of blood in Kyoya’s ears.
The pressure builds up fast and grand. Kyoya grunts with the effort, unable to control the erratic, nigh frantic slam of his hips, encouraged by Kaoru’s cries and sobs of his name, unable to form anything but praise for the man he loves.
And then Kaoru’s eyes shoot open, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts himself into Kyoya’s arms. Long, sharp nails rake down Kyoya’s shoulders, the sting of pain making Kyoya growl, pleased, against Kaoru’s throat. Kaoru’s head lolls back and he cries out, his pretty cock jumping as he cums hot between their bodies, his release splashing across their chests.
Kaoru’s walls tighten around him, sucking him further in, and the vice grip Kyoya already has on Kaoru’s hips tightens that much more. They both know Kaoru is going to bruise there, and that thought alone sends Kyoya over the edge he’s been teetering on. He pulls Kaoru flush against his groin until there’s no space left between their bodies and spills inside him, burning and all consuming. Kyoya knows he shouts some semblance of Kaoru’s name - a guttural sound that’s more animal than human - and holds on tightly as the orgasm shakes out of him, thrusting hard as he works as much of his release into Kaoru as possible.
Even as they begin to catch their breath, Kyoya is deliberate but languid as he rocks through the aftershocks of his orgasm. They’re both exhausted, but he still ensures to angle his hips just right until Kaoru’s eyes are wet with tears, clinging to his beautiful eyelashes from the overstimulation.
It’s only when Kaoru mewls, pathetic and wounded, does Kyoya finally slow to a stop. With a smile, Kyoya leans down and kisses the tears away and continues to kiss Kaoru’s face - his cheeks, his forehead, his lips - until he eases himself out, setting Kaoru’s leg gingerly back down on the mattress.
Kaoru shudders from the loss but reaches up all the same, cupping Kyoya’s jaw to lead his wandering lips into a gentle, soft kiss.
Kyoya collapses on the bed next to him and Kaoru hums, content, curling into Kyoya’s side. Realistically, Kyoya knows he needs to get up and clean them both off, but he can’t be bothered, especially when Kaoru is so sweetly nestled against his chest, his smile serene and his body warm.
Instead, Kyoya wraps a firm arm around the man he loves and presses a tender kiss to the crown of Kaoru’s head.
“Welcome home,” Kaoru murmurs as his eyes close, his smile soft, “Missed you.”
Kyoya’s chest swells with overwhelming affection and he runs his fingers through Kaoru’s messy hair. “It’s good to be home.”
The next morning, Kyoya is awoken from his much needed slumber by the smell of something burning. There is also a suspicious Kaoru-shaped warmth missing from his bedside.
Hm.
As Kyoya’s groggy brain deliberates on the merits of rolling back over and hiding under the duvet until his body has deemed it a reasonable time to wake up, an equally suspicious clattering of something metallic (a pan? Some sort of dish?) and an apprehensive “mreow?” from their hallway has him reconsidering.
With incredible reluctance, Kyoya drags himself out from the comfort of their bed, shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and trudges out into the hallway.
Their open floor plan living room and kitchen combination has a hazy tint to it when Kyoya shuffles into the room, though whether the haziness is from the light streaming from their floor-to-ceiling windows or the lingering smoke in the air is anyone’s guess.
Bustling around their quartz kitchen island is Kaoru, dressed in yet another one of Kyoya’s button downs (this time with no buttons done, Kyoya notes), and a modest pair of boxer briefs. His bangs are held back with a headband and he gestures at Noir with an empty paper bag, no doubt nagging her under his breath as she chirps at him expectantly.
Nestled on their island are two immaculately plated dishes: one, an ultra-thin pancake folded around layers of cold-smoked salmon, cream cheese, baby spinach, onions, string beans, and capers. The other, no doubt Kaoru’s, stuffed to the brim with tropical fruits, custard, and whipped cream.
It makes the already suspect scene more dubious.
But then Kaoru turns to face him, breaking into a smile so wide and excited Kyoya almost misses how quickly he hides the paper bag behind his back.
What was that saying about love making people foolish?
“Kyoya!” Kaoru calls out cheerily, brandishing a spatula in his free hand, “I’m glad you’re up. You’re just in time for breakfast!”
Kyoya’s eyes scan their kitchen from their electric stove, the spotlessly clean spatula, and the suspiciously absent dishes in the sink before landing on Kaoru, who has now shuffled to the trash can.
“You made Belgian crepes?” Kyoya asks, raising an eyebrow.
“What, can’t you tell?”
Even with his sleep addled and sluggish brain, Kyoya’s internal files unfold. Belgian crepes. High quality, out-of-season ingredients. He doesn’t even need to see the emblem on the bag Kaoru is not so silently shoving into their trash can.
Breizh Cafe Creperie. Shinjuku.
He could call Kaoru out on it. Could drag him through his obviously ridiculous and clear lie, could question the smoke still lingering in the air and the sudden disappearance of their largest pan. It would be par for the course for them, after all - their constant banter and one-up-man-ship is how they flirt.
But absence has made Kyoya soft, it seems, because he finds himself strolling up to Kaoru instead, wrapping his arms loosely around Kaoru’s waist.
"I can tell it was made with love," he murmurs.
The way Kaoru’s eyes sparkle when they meet his own, the gentlest of flushes dusting his cheeks as he ducks his head shyly before nuzzling into Kyoya’s chest is worth all the destroyed pans in the world.
It’s good to be home.