Work Text:
You sprinkled a cup of green onions into the simmering broth. Your mouth had already begun to water at the thought of that first taste of soup. You gave it a great stir before turning your attention to the beeping rice cooker on the other end of the counter.
“Okay, okay. I hear you.” you muttered.
You hated that sound so early in the morning despite it not being nearly as unpleasant as you made it out to be.
With that, you could prepare the final dish, salmon. You sprinkled a dash of salt before placing the fresh fish into the crackling frying pan.
Unbeknownst to you, the door knob turned and in walked your stone-faced partner. You would have been startled by his sudden appearance had it not been for the overwhelming light briefly filling the dim apartment.
He slipped off his shoes and walked past you to rid himself of his coat, vest and unbuttoned his dress shirt.
If he hadn’t worked six overnight shifts in a row, you might have been hurt by his rudeness. You empathized but that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him about it.
“Your greetings, young man?” you said in a nagging voice.
He blinked for a moment and by the briefly averted glance, you knew that he hadn’t even realized what he’d done.
“S-sorry.” he said, his deep voice rumbled in the empty air, sounding far louder than he meant to.
“That’s okay.”
It had only been a couple of weeks since you made the decision to join him in Fukuoka. After months of lonely living, you supposed that he’d fallen out of the habit.
“I’m home.” he said, pressing a soft kiss at the crown of your head as he made his way to the bathroom door behind you.
“Welcome back. How was work?”
The shower squeaked before water began to pounce into the tub.
“Long.”
“I see.”
When he walked past you again, he was wrapping a large towel around his hips. His bare feet thumped against the hardwood, the salmon sizzled in the skillet and the birds chirping outside leaked through the cracked window.
The window clicked shut.
“O-oh,” you covered your mouth, “I’m sorry! I opened it earlier bu--”
He gripped the folded ring of his towel as he approached you, a rare Nagasugai smile graced his lips. It was small but it was a smile nonetheless.
“I understand, you were cooking. Smells great.”
“I didn’t think to close it.”
“Relax.” he pressed another kiss onto your head. “It’s fine.”
“Okay.”
You smiled, flipping the salmon with your lacquered chopsticks as he stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him.
Behind the frosted glass door, Kiryu stood beneath the stream, the water beating down on him. He brought his hands up to clean his face as he softly sang the last song he’d heard after his final passenger.
It was about a man realizing how the woman he loved could tell when he needed her, even when they were miles apart, out of contact, she always made her way back to him, even if he tried to push her away and when they reunited, words were never enough to explain how he felt so he made love to her from dusk till dawn.
With everything going on in Kiryu’s life, sexual pleasure was typically the furthest thing from his mind. He couldn’t even bring himself to recall passionate bouts of love with you to release some stress.
There was nothing sexy about ripping himself from the ones he loved most just to ensure a better future for them.
He’s been on the brink of death more times than most men but the loneliness he felt before you arrived was some of the worst pain he ever endured.
Of course, you could never fill the void that was reserved for his kids but at least he didn’t have to go through it alone now that you’ve made your way back to him.
Just like the woman in the song.
The night you arrived, he made love to you like he never had before but it seemed that night of passion was a one off. Lying in bed next to you at night, eating meals and talking with you provided him with the intimacy he needed to make it through this rough patch. Since that night, sex hadn’t crossed his mind even once.
The song changed that.
It was like an aphrodisiac.
All he could think about on the drive back to the office and on the walk home was that night and even though he knew he didn’t have the stamina to recreate it, he needed a piece of you.
He rinsed the remainder of the soap off his body, suds dripped down the base of his hardening cock.
“Kazuma,” you knocked on the door, startling him. “Take as long as you need, but breakfast is ready.”
He didn’t answer.
The only thing he wanted for breakfast at this moment was you and there was something intoxicating about hearing the name ‘Kazuma’, not ‘Suzuki’, not ‘Kiryu’.
His given name was called sweetly in what used to be the loneliest apartment in Fukuoka.
You took your time to set the table with bowls for the soup and rice then little porcelain plates for the salmon and pickled veggies then you straightened the zabuton.
His ashtray was in the center and full of ash and bent buds.
You cleared it from the table, took it to the kitchen to dump its contents and washed it in the sink.
You took an old rag and dried the droplets of water. Just as you reached to close the tap, cold droplets of water dripped onto your shoulder, soaking through your top.
“Kazuma…” you whispered, and his breath was hot against your neck.
You were small under him, you were about to be devoured but even so, you felt safe as he cupped your chin from behind and tilted your head to get better access to your neck.
“Thank you for preparing breakfast,” he whispered through breathy kisses, “ _____.”
“Mhmm, but if you keep it up, the food’s going to get cold.”
“It’ll be fine."
His lips were sort of dry and cracked from dehydration, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant and the dryness would be resolved by the saliva dribbling down your neck as he hooked his mouth against your skin.
He sucked and nibbled.
You closed your eyes, reaching back to touch him and your hand arrived at his wet chest. Your fingertips interrupted the trail left behind by the droplets of water rolling down his taut skin until you met the damp towel catching them.
He clicked his tongue, grabbing your wrist and placing it back on to the counter in front of you.
“Don’t move…” he whispered, “let me indulge… in you.”
The hand that had been gripping your chin tightened his grip, the joints of his fingers pressed into your skin but he was careful not to leave any bruising. Then, it lightly clawed down until he could caress your breasts.
You dropped the ashtray, grateful that it was metal. A shallow ring echoed in the steel dish basin as it rolled before finally settling and you gripped the edge of the counter.
He let out a heavy sigh, his warm breath coupled with the cool wetness coating your skin sent goosebumps down your arms. He licked up the curve of your neck, before latching his newly softened lips onto a spot where he intended to leave proof of his desire.
You wince at the harsh sucking against your skin and he eased up in response.He broke away from his activity at your neck to caress your chin again, this time maneuvering your head to face him.
His glassy eyes met yours, briefly, before he captured your lips in a heated kiss.
A moan rumbled into your mouth as he pressed his excitement against your back, the towel was tented but continued to hang on for dear life.
The back of your clothes was now completely damp and so was a section at the front of your shirt from the beads of water clinging to the fine hairs of his forearms that transferred to the fabric.
He brought his large hands to squeeze gently at your sides, a silent warning about what he was about to do. If you had any objections, now was the time to voice them but alas, you didn’t have any.
He slipped his thumbs beneath the fabric of your shorts and panties, then slowly slid them down to pool around your ankles. Your knees rubbed against one another as you trembled with anticipation while he massaged your winding hips.
His breath was at your neck again, his nose nuzzling your cheek before you endured the slight pinch at your collar when he took a mouthful of the fabric of your shirt between his teeth. It didn’t take long for his drool to seep through.
His warm hands ghosted your sides, then in one slow, fluid motion, your shirt was tossed away and forgotten.
“So beautiful.” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around you tightly.
Even with the warmth of your body flush against his, there was a brief moment of doubt that this was really happening. That you were really there.
When he snapped out of it, he pinched the hooks of your bra and slipped the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside.
The dampness of the towel was cool against the backs of your thighs as he pressed into you, finally allowing himself some friction by grinding into you. His sudden weight shifted you forward and the edges of the counter cut into the tops of your thighs but you were too far gone to care.
He teased your nipples with the rough pads of his fingertips and you let out a moan that caused his cock to twitch. He groaned.
Dipping his head over your shoulder, he licked what he could of your bare chest while his hands travelled south. One hand playfully clawed at the flesh of your thigh while the other cupped your sopping sex.
He gasped with satisfaction.
This was the effect of what Kazuma did to you.
Kazuma pressed his two middle fingers past your lips and your slick coated them well. He used them to tease your clit, while he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He inhaled each gasp, swallowed each moan that escaped you. If you thought that he would get you off with his fingers, you were sorely mistaken, he told you.
He abruptly halted his ministrations, leaving you panting and confused and frustrated.
He broke away from you, “Don’t move.” he commanded again, and you didn’t dare defy him.
He worked at the folds of the towel clinging around his waist and finally bared it all to you.
The towel that kept the two of you apart fluttered to the floor, becoming nothing more than an afterthought.
He pressed against you once again, his member twitching against your back. Warm dots of precum found their way onto your skin as he rolled his hips.
He took one of your hands that had been gripping the edge of the sink and brought it back to stroke his veiny length, letting you know what you’ve done to him but it wasn’t for long. He'd been waiting long enough.
“Counter.” he whispered and your hand was quickly back in its original place.
He chuckled, pressing curved lips against your cheek. “I love you.”
A strong hand gripped your shoulder, guiding you forward while the other pumped his weeping length.
With you bent over, he admired the nice view your position provided for him. He temporarily withdrew from your shoulder to spread your ass so that he had clear sight of your holes.
“Look at you.” he whispered.
Licking his lips, he guided his girthy member to your wet snatch. You both hissed and he’d barely even pushed in the full tip.You gripped the counter until your fingers went numb and you paced your breathing as you graciously accommodated his entry.
He titled your head back and kissed you deeply once he was half way inside, allowing you time to appreciate the way he was stretching you. You were a moaning, whining mess and he smiled softly against your lips, flattered.
He rolled his hips back, then slowly pushed forward causing you to cry out.
Just a little more. You’re doing so well. He thought.
Once you were calmed, he continued to feed his length to you, his voice hitched in throat until he’d buried himself to the hilt.
“______.” he groaned.
Kazuma sensually rolled his hips, slowly driving into you.
So deliciously deep.
His fingers caressed your chin like he’d done in the beginning, a gentleness that contradicted the harshness of the thrusts to come. His thumb was pressed against your bottom lip and you weren’t sure what compelled you to do it but you took his thumb into your mouth and he nearly yelped.
He hissed a swear as he sped up his thrusts, certain that you could handle him at full throttle now.
He dug you out; thrusts brisk and desperate and suddenly the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling was all too much and yet not nearly enough.
It was impossible not to stagger under the pace he transitioned to; the counter was no longer enough to stabilize you. You reached forward, placing your hands firmly against the subway tile on the wall, mindful of the dishrack hovering just above your head.
How cute. He thought.
Your fingers curled against the slippery tile and your moans echoed in the sink. You were trying your absolute best to keep up with him.
He stroked the small of your arching back with his thumbs while the rest of his fingers gripped at you, slamming you back into him. He watched his cock split you, the song played his head to the rhythm of your clapping skin.
Your walls pulsated around him. The curl of your toes and the whimpers escaping your lips warned him that he was onto something.
Tossing his head back in ecstasy, his bottom lip quivered as he angled himself in a way that allowed him to stroke the part of your pussy that made you cry out like a woman possessed. All it took was a few deep caresses for you to tumble forward, knocking over the bottle of dish liquid and the cup of toothbrushes next to it, your arousal spattered against his thighs and dribbled down your legs.
He bit back a guttural moan.
Shit.
He was faced with a predicament: did he indulge further and spoil you once more or did he give in to his overwhelming desire to cum while you were clenching him tightest?
He gave in.
His expression hardened as he leaned forward.
He kissed the back of your head before wrapping an arm around your neck, his bulging bicep firmly pressed against your carotid, lightly hindering your airway. He clenched his jaws as he pounded into you relentlessly. There was no doubt in his mind that your legs were just about giving out on him.
His breath was hot on your ear and in the smallest of voices, your name escaped his lips. He was about to come; you were sure of it and you wanted to see it. You wanted to see his hardened expression melt with absolute bliss.
“Kazuma,” you managed. “I want to see your face when you cum.”
The arm that had been wrapped around your neck, was now wrapped around your waist and he used his freehand to tilt your face toward his own. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he kissed you ferociously.
When he broke away from your lips, his glassy eyes softly peered into yours and his forehead furrows were on full display.
His hips rolled slowly, greedily trying to help himself reach even deeper within your wet core. His brow twitched and guttural moans ripped from within his chest. His large hand gripped your jaws, holding you still so that you didn’t miss the gaping of his lips, the roll of his eyes and the snarl at his nose as the final snaps of his hips sent threads of his essence deep within you.
“Ngh, aghh!” he grunted, his eyes sewn shut. “Haah!”
He continued to thrust until he physically couldn’t manage it anymore; his seed dripped from your connection, rolling down your leg. You were practically pinned against the sink while he fought to regulate his ragged breathing. He ran his thumb along your jawline, pressing soft kisses onto your forehead.
When he finally released you, there were indents at the tops of your thighs from the edge of the counter but you didn’t mind them.
“I’m sorry.” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto your neck before kneeling to help you slip your bottoms back on.
“Why?”
He shook his head, leaning against the wall as he looked down at the breakfast spread so neatly arranged on the low table, noting that the steam was no longer rising from it.
“Breakfast is cold.”