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Rosinante spent the day in the secret house with the kind of patience that frayed at the edges. The morning light slanted through the curtains, golden and dusty, touching the corners of the little rooms with a fragile warmth. It was a modest place, hidden from the world, but to him it was precious. Here was safety, here was sanctuary, and – most important of all – here was where Law would return.
He tried to fill the hours with chores, though they rarely went smoothly in his hands.
The laundry was first. He gathered both of their clothes into an ungainly bundle, socks and shirts draped over his arms like casualties of war. By the time he reached the washing machine, half of them had slipped free to form a breadcrumb trail across the floor. He stuffed the rest inside, pressed the button with a self-satisfied nod, and jumped at the alarming clunk of metal within. Only then did he realise he’d tossed one of his lighters into the drum along with the clothes. After frantic fumbling and muttered curses, he retrieved it, dripping wet, and set it on the windowsill to dry.
Onigiri, lounging on his bed in the corner, cocked his head as though deeply amused by the spectacle. Rosinante ruffled the dog’s ears, embarrassed, and muttered something about keeping it all a secret from Law.
The kitchen was another disaster in waiting. He meant only to tidy up a little, but the bottle of floor-cleaner slipped from his fingers and landed upside down on the tiles. In his haste to catch it, he kicked over the bucket full of soapy water meant for mopping. A green tide spilled over the floor, sliding across the tiles in sudsy rivulets. In his attempt to stop it all, Rosinante lost his footing and skidded gracelessly across the floor, arms flailing like sails in a storm. Onigiri barked with delight and dashed through the foam, leaving sopping wet paw prints everywhere. By the time Rosinante righted the chaos, the dryer was full of towels and both of them were damp, smelling faintly of lavender.
Cooking, he told himself, would redeem the day. Grilled fish and rice balls; simple, safe. He arranged the fillets neatly beneath the grill, turned away to shape the rice, and promptly forgot about them. A hiss, a curl of smoke, and he was scrambling back to wrench the tray out before the kitchen became a furnace. One side of the fish was charred black, though salvageable after some vigorous scraping. He sighed, knowing Law deserved finer meals than his bumbling attempts, but pressed on stubbornly, patting the rice into smooth triangles and setting one aside for Onigiri. The dog devoured it in seconds, white grains stuck to the fur of his cheeks, while Rosinante chuckled softly and stroked his head.
By mid-afternoon the house had been tamed into some semblance of order. Rosinante lit a stick of incense to disguise the faint scent of burnt fish. He straightened a cushion on the sofa before he sank into it with Onigiri curled against his side, but still the room felt hollow. The silence pressed close, broken only by the dog’s steady breathing. He missed Law most in these moments: the sharp wit, the steady eyes, the warmth hidden behind his guarded words. Without him, the air itself felt thin. Rosinante closed his eyes, willing the hours to move faster, counting heartbeats until the lock would turn and life would pour back in.
The bathroom gave him one last battle. He ran the bath in anticipation of Law’s imminent return, filling the room with steam. Testing the temperature, he leaned too far and his braced hand slipped. To stop himself from falling headfirst into the water, he flailed and grabbed hold of something – that something turned out to be the lever for the shower, and his elbow knocked the hose itself off its hook. In a blink, water sprayed across the room, soaking him, the floor, Onigiri – everything.
He let out a strangled yelp, slipping in the growing puddle as Onigiri barked in alarm at the sudden storm. By the time he’d turned off the water, forced the hose back into place, wrung out his clothes, and bundled the sodden towels into the dryer again, his cheeks were scarlet. He muttered under his breath, swearing that Law must never know how close the house came to becoming an indoor swimming pool.
As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard it: the sharp, blessed click of the front door unlocking.
His heart lurched.
He abandoned everything, stumbling down the hall so quickly he nearly tripped over Onigiri. The door swung open, and there was Law, shoulders weighed by his school bag, hair falling over tired eyes. He bent to undo his shoes, and Rosinante dropped to his knees before him, unable to help himself, grinning like a fool.
Law barely had time to glance up before Rosinante’s arms were around him. Law pressed forward, falling into his chest, and the world righted itself at once. Rosinante held him fiercely, clinging as though he could anchor him there forever, while Onigiri tore circles around them, barking so loudly, it reverberated off the hallway walls.
"I missed you," Rosinante whispered against dark hair, again and again, each word pressed into Law’s skin with soft kisses – along his temple, the line of his jaw, the corner of his mouth, those pouting lips. The boy sighed, half-annoyed, half-melted, but did not pull away.
"Cora-san," came the muffled murmur, arms curling around Rosinante's neck.
Rosinante cupped his cheek with a large, careful hand, brushing his thumb along the sharp bone. The sight of him, safe and close, undid every knot of waiting that had twisted Rosinante’s chest through the long day.
"I made dinner," he said eagerly. "Grilled fish and rice balls. And I ran you a bath."
That earned him a raised brow and the faintest tug of a smirk. "How many times did you flood the bathroom this time?"
Heat rushed to Rosinante’s ears. He ducked his head, mumbling, "Once." Technically true – Law had only asked him about the bathroom, after all. He thought of the towels tumbling in the dryer and winced.
Law snorted, a short, amused sound that made Rosinante’s heart swell despite the teasing. The younger male leaned up, brushed their mouths together in a kiss both tender and lingering, before murmuring, "Bath first. Then food."
Rosinante nodded, already readying himself to serve, to fetch, to do anything that would make him happy. But Law’s hand caught his, fingers curling tight.
"Only if you join me."
For a moment, Rosinante could not breathe. Then, his grin bloomed wide and helpless, chest aching with the sheer, dizzying relief of being loved.
-~-
The bathroom was heavy with steam, the mirror a blurred canvas and the air thick with warmth that clung to skin like a second layer. Rosinante hovered, enormous frame awkward among the delicate bottles perched along the bath’s edge. His hands, still damp from testing the water yet again, fidgeted against his thighs as though unsure where to rest.
Law stood at the door, stripping away his uniform piece by piece with slow, precise movements. His shirt fell first, sliding from narrow shoulders to the tiles in a soft whisper of fabric. Rosinante’s throat worked around a lump, transfixed by the smooth expanse of dark and pale skin, the subtle muscle beneath. Every button undone felt like the loosening of some knot in his own chest, and when Law glanced at him – gold eyes glinting, amused at his gawking – he felt heat rush to his ears.
"You’re staring," Law said flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Rosinante’s reply caught in his throat, coming out as a strangled murmur of, "I can’t help it."
Law ignored him, slipping out of his trousers and underwear with calm grace, stepping into the bath as though the world belonged to him. Water embraced him, rippling gently around his body as he sank down with a sigh that caused Rosinante’s toes to curl.
"Well?" Law’s gaze lifted, sharp and expectant. "You’re not going to leave me waiting, are you?"
Instantly, Rosinante fumbled with his clothes, tugging them off in graceless jerks; seams creaked and strained in his rush. He nearly tripped over the leg of his jeans, and it earned a short laugh from Law – soft but not mocking, affectionate in its edge. When, at last, he sank into the bath opposite him – they both ignored the wave of water over the side – the heat was a shock, searing against his skin, but Law’s presence eclipsed everything else.
The tub was narrow, their knees brushing with no room to retreat. For a moment, they simply looked at one another through the haze. Steam clung to Law’s hair, damp strands curling against his cheekbones, droplets tracing down his collarbone to disappear beneath the water. Rosinante’s breath hitched, caught on the sight.
Then Law reached forward, hand sliding into his with quiet finality, and the distance between them vanished.
Rosinante guided and supported his boyfriend’s movements, until Law was comfortably resting back against his chest, long arms wrapping around him once again in a protective cocoon. He pressed his lips to damp hair, breathing deeply, steam and warmth mixing with the tang of everything that made up Law’s natural smell. His partner’s smaller hands rested against his arms, fingers tracing lazy patterns that sent shivers beneath Rosinante’s skin.
"Ridiculous," Law mumbled, voice husky. "All this fuss just for me."
Rosinante smiled against his temple, his breath stirring the strands of wet hair. "You’re worth all of it. More."
Law turned slightly, face tilting up, and Rosinante met him halfway. The kiss was tentative at first, their lips brushing with delicate restraint, but the heat of the water and the ache of longing unravelled restraint quickly. Their mouths parted, slow and searching, until Rosinante was lost in the taste of him.
His hand slid to Law’s jaw, thumb stroking tenderly over skin slick with condensation, marvelling at the softness of his skin beneath damp fingertips. Law leaned into it, lips moving more insistently against his, tugging a quiet groan from Rosinante’s throat. The sound vibrated in the small space, swallowed by steam.
They kissed until Rosinante’s head spun, dizziness descending. When they parted, he couldn’t resist following the trail lower – kisses along Law’s cheek, down his throat, lingering where that strong pulse beat steadily beneath fragile skin. Law’s breath hitched, fingers curling tighter around Rosinante’s arm, his body shifting back against him with a need that sparked through the steam.
Rosinante’s heart thundered. Every inch of him ached to hold tighter, to pour everything he couldn’t say into touch. He stroked Law’s chest and stomach with slow, reverent hands, daring to trace the lines of his muscles down to the jut of his hip bones, feeling each shiver that answered his touch.
As if growing impatient, Law turned in his arms. Rosinante gawped up at his boyfriend as the other rose up onto his knees and shuffled even closer, straddling his lap. His heart stumbled. The press of their bodies, slick and bare beneath the surface, drew a low groan from his throat. He clutched Law’s waist instinctively, fingers spanning across damp skin, holding him close as though afraid he might slip away.
Their bodies pressed together in the narrow bath. Rosinante’s breath broke on a gasp at the feel of Law pressing a firm line against his belly, and he wound his arms instinctively around his partner, palms splaying wide across slick skin. Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling, and Law’s eyes – so bright, so sharp, so soft – searched his with a heat that stole words away.
Gasping softly, Law tilted his head back slightly and Rosinante’s lips instinctively raced to press against the elegant line of his throat. He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, slow and lingering, tasting salt and warmth, listening to the stutter in Law’s breathing. His mouth lingered over the steady pulse in his neck, teeth grazing lightly before soothing it with his tongue. Law shivered in his hold, nails biting faint crescents into his shoulders.
With the slowest motion – not rooted in hesitance or reluctance, but instead in a way that spoke of savouring – Law slid his body lower, arousal dragging across the hard plains of Rosinante’s abdominal muscles, until it nestled and nudged so perfectly against his own. Twin broken moans filled the air, fraying at the edges, as nails bit into skin, as motion began to build.
The water lapped around them, heated ripples fanning out as Law rolled his hips against him. Rosinante’s breath caught sharply, his grip tightening, every nerve alight. He pulled him closer still, chest to chest, their skin sliding together in the water’s embrace. The friction was maddening, sparking low and fierce, and Rosinante felt himself unravel beneath it, every ounce of restraint fraying.
"Law…" His voice broke, hoarse with need, but filled with reverence.
"Don’t stop," Law pleaded, his words feathering against Rosinante’s ear before his mouth closed over it, teeth grazing, tongue soothing. Each sound, each movement fanned the fire already burning in Rosinante’s chest. He obeyed, continuing to kiss his neck again and again, deeper, hungrier, his hands roaming over slick skin – mapping every inch, every dip, committing it all to memory as though he could brand it into his very bones.
Law arched against him, lips parting in a breathless gasp, and Rosinante captured them with another kiss, swallowing the sound as though it were sustenance. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the heat of water, the slick glide of skin, the sharp catch of breath between them – simply Law, in his arms, finding pleasure in his body.
With only the slightest reluctance, he pulled away from the sweetness of Law’s lips, and trailed kisses lower, across collarbones gleaming with droplets, down to the hollow of that tattooed chest. The rise and fall beneath his lips was uneven, quickened, and the taste of damp skin filled his mouth. He lingered, kissing, nipping, soothing, until Law’s fingers tangled in his hair, almost guiding him to the pertness of a dusky brown nipple.
A quiet, desperate sound escaped Law’s chest when Rosinante’s mouth sealed over the soft flesh, tongue swirling in gentle circles until it firmed into a firm peak, which he pinched delicately between his teeth. A suckle earned him a moan, a tug earned him a hiss, and letting go earned a raspy groan, breathless with relief. Rosinante soothed the swollen bud with long, broad sweeps of his tongue, fingers already worrying the other.
Rosinante poured everything into his actions – longing, devotion, the ache of all the hours spent waiting. His free hand braced Law’s hip – cradling, supportive guiding – though his kisses spoke of hunger, of a need that burned far too hot to contain.
The water rocked gently around them, sloshing over the side when Law bucked against him with a whine. He’d need to mop up a second time, but his thoughts were far from that.
The only spilling on his mind was Law’s.
Law pressed against him harder, movements deliberate, igniting sparks wherever their bodies touched. Rosinante’s vision blurred with the steam, with the sheer intensity of sensation and pleasure flowing through him, his senses drowning in Law – the taste of him, the weight of him, the sound of soft gasps mingling with soft groans.
"Close," Rosinante whispered, words tumbling between ragged kisses against the dark lines on Law’s chest, a vow threaded with fire.
Passion sparked like flint in the heat. Law’s hands moved across him in return, fingers exploring his chest, nails dragging lightly, sending shivers through him that had nothing to do with the temperature of the bath. Rosinante felt undone, every nerve alive beneath the boy’s touch, every breath catching as if it might be his last.
They moved together, not quite frantic but almost, their bodies sliding and pressing beneath the water, the rhythm of their closeness rising and falling like a tide. The bathroom faded away; there was no world beyond the slick heat of their skin, the sound of their mingled breaths, the grip of hands that clung as though separation would be unbearable, the desperate grind of their cocks together.
"Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t st-stop," Law’s whisper echoed across the tiled walls, voice ragged.
"Won't. I won't," Rosinante promised, even though Law was definitely the one in charge of it all. His words were breathed against sweat-slick skin as he rested his forehead against Law's sternum, repeated like a prayer. He held him tighter, kissed him harder, gave him everything he could not put into words – his devotion, his longing, his unshakable need.
The water rocked in rhythmic waves. Rosinante kept his hands tight on Law's slim hips, guiding and supporting his boyfriend as Law controlled their movements. He resisted the urge to buck upwards when Law rolled his hips in gyrating circles; he didn't want to upset the rhythm, knowing how close they both were – Law especially, considering how breathy and almost pained his gasps sounded, laced with cut-off groans, whimpers spilling from that beautiful mouth.
So caught up in the sight and sounds of his boyfriend, Rosinante failed to notice the warning waves of his cresting orgasm. It slammed into him, seemingly out of nowhere, and forced the loudest whimpering moan from his own throat, fingers digging desperately into Law's flesh to hold him tight against his pulsating cock. The weight, the heat, the firmness of Law against him – he lost himself to the flares of pleasure that zinged through his veins, setting nerves on fire.
And Law kept grinding against him, praises slipping from kiss-bitten lips, coaxing his climax longer and longer until it crackled at his nerves. As the fire ebbed, as he caught his breath, he regained control of his body and awareness of how Law was still in desperate need. Clumsily, he kept one hand on Law's ass, fingers cradling a pert cheek, whilst his other trailed to take hold of Law's cock, palm enveloping him with a firm grip that Law immediately bucked into.
A loud moan reverberated off the bathroom tiles. Fingernails dug into Rosinante's shoulders, tugging his face even closer against Law's chest. He kissed and licked and suckled and nibbled at the dark lines in front of him, allowing his boyfriend to fuck into the tight grip of his hand beneath the water. A particularly firm thrust had Rosinante's hand slipping where he steadied the other boy, fingers brushing across the whorl of Law's ass. But before he could apologise and retreat–
"Mmph-! Y-Yes, keep- don't stop," Law stuttered, mouth dropping open as he gasped staccato breaths, eyes rolling back beneath closed lids.
Rosinante kept his fingers where they pressed, rubbing and massaging the puckered opening. He pressed with enough pressure to give intent, but not to enter, even as Law tilted his hips pleadingly. That was for later, if Law wanted, but not now – the bathtub was not the right place to spread Law out and ease him open; comfortably, at least.
It would be hell on both their knees.
"A-Ah, yesss, just like that, Cora-san, j-just like that…!"
Rosinante kept the rhythm of his fingers steady, letting Law fall into the pleasure as he wished. That taut, lithe body trembled and writhed against him, strung tight like a wire about to snap, until he let out a choked gasp and began to come. Rosinante stared down at the water as milky white clouds the surface, Law's pretty cock twitching in his grasp.
"Cora-san…" Law moans so sweetly, and Rosinante wants this moment to never end; he wants to keep looking at that handsome face and his beautiful body, wants to keep those pretty sounds in his ears for hours on end.
Steam thick in the air, the bathroom falls quiet, save for their panting breaths. In the absence of flaring passion, Rosinante was left with a feeling that was more than echoing desire: it was love, raw and consuming, burning brighter than the heat of the bath itself. Tilting his head back, he smoothed his hands up Law's sides and eased his slack weight to lean against him, their foreheads pressed together.
Rosinante smoothed damp strands of hair from Law’s eyes, kissing him once more; softer, reverent, lips barely pressing together. Law’s answering smile was small, tired, but utterly unguarded.
"You run the best baths, Cora-san," Law mumbled. He nuzzled their noses together. "The best."
"Other people run you baths?"
A grumble, a frown, a tug on Rosinante's ear in retaliation. "Idiot." It was said fondly, bursting with a barely-withheld snicker.
Outside the door, Onigiri scratched impatiently, whining for attention or perhaps in alarm at the water that was probably creeping out from under the door, and they both sighed, knowing they would have to get out soon.
…Eventually.