pslplz | Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

There went his quiet evening.

Omi looked at the pop-up notification on the screen that he had a visitor at the front gate. For just a moment, he pursed his lips, then with a small sigh approved the request, as he always did when the place was empty.

A friend of a friend who knew a guy in a band: in hindsight, it probably wasn't the best association to start with. Omi agreed to take a look at a computer synthesizer acting up and, after several hours of research, troubleshooting, and playing with different underlying settings, he fixed it. By all rights, that should have been the end of it. Then the visit turned into an invitation to hear the band, which turned into a club and a bit of drinking and that turned into a mess. And then the mess had turned into a habit, and now here he was.

Anyone that knew would probably find them about the oddest pair to be had, insofar as the word pair even applied. Akaya was wild, creative, and had a certain air about him that whatever he was up to, it spelled trouble. Maybe in a way, that was what had drawn him in, out of his own mundane life of safety and predictability. One of these days, Goku was going to be home unexpectedly early and he was going to have a heck of a lot of explaining to do. Hopefully, tonight would not be that night.

Omi took the liberty of getting an extra mug out now. If past experience was any indication, the caffeine was no threat to Akaya's bedtime anyway.

Home it is, then. Which probably also meant that Hungry Hungry Hippo wasn't in. Akaya had yet to meet this elusive roommate, who left traces of his voracious appetite in the trash (lots of empty cartons and boxes) and the sink (dishes numbering in the many that were probably not of Omi's doing). Maybe one of these visits, he will. Akaya never really knew if there would be a next visit, but something usually directed his feet in this direction eventually.

He wouldn't go so far as to call it a habit. Habit forming behavior was an occupational hazard and Akaya was way too disciplined to fall into that trap. He glided past the security sensors in the lobby and the elevator, and went in through that familiar door. The smell of coffee wafted in to the foyer as he bent down to peel off his boots.

How long had it been since his last visit? Akaya didn't remember, exactly. He might have forgotten to text, too. So he opened with a saunter, and a casual "'sup?" There was something about his movements that looked feline, maybe because he was so slender and he moved in the kind of way that was accustomed to being on a stage where hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking. Plus, he was wearing dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket and red sleeveless top that weren't exactly tight, but hugged his form just enough to show it off.

When Omi heard the door open, he stepped over into view of the hall, feeling a typical mix of gladness to see Akaya and annoyance at his manner. How anyone could be quite so shamelessly carefree, appearing out of nowhere as though carried in by the wind (and only to greet him as though he should have been expected), he did not know. Was it so much to ask for even ten minutes of advance notice?

He was dressed well, at least. Rather, in a way that was both fitting and flattering for a young musician. Omi for his part was in a mesh top, his trademark shorts that he seemed to wear no matter how cold it got outside, and socked feet. Though he'd always been on the small side, thanks to a smattering of outdoor leisure activities he had enough muscle to pull off the top (not that lack of them would have necessarily stopped him).

"I don't suppose you've heard of calling," he said with a small frown by way of greeting. "You're lucky it's just me here tonight." So was he, to be truthful, but Omi didn't plan on voicing that part.

Calling? That would imply that Akaya knew what he would be doing in advance. Every other part of his life was planned out meticulously. He was actually quite responsible in that respect, not just because it paid the bills, but because he had the ambition to make things happen. The competition out there was intense for bands like theirs. You had to work twice as hard as everyone else to stand out.

And so with his personal life -- things tended to take a more mellow route. And besides which, he was well aware of his own appeal, and there was no need to waste all that time and effort into a sure thing.

Omi didn't look pleased, but Akaya was not concerned.

"What can I say, I've got good timing," he said with a smirk. He gave Omi a very deliberate once over approvingly and then strode past him to the kitchen to help himself to a cup of coffee.

It was probably a good thing Omi was not privy to Akaya's internal thoughts that thirty seconds and a couple of taps to his holophone was such an exorbitant request of his time and energy. Instead, Omi was left with a statement he couldn't argue with, because it was true to a point of being eerie. Akaya's timing was impeccable. Not only had he made a surprise appearance when Goku was away but just as the coffee finished.

Omi followed him to the kitchen and leaned against the island counter.

"You do have that... How long do you have?" It was hard to know with Akaya's schedule. Maybe in that respect, Omi's own job was what made it workable. Working from home on your own hours definitely had its perks.

He poured a mug of sweet-smelling coffee and took a sip of it, black. Akaya didn't usually drink flavored coffee, but he wasn't picky about it either. He leaned his hip to the kitchen counter and tilted his head at Omi.

Truth be told, he wasn't the usual type that Akaya went for. Round faced, wide-eyed, somewhat nerdy. Shorts. Quite a change from the usual crowd from Akaya's circle, filled with artists and roadies and music execs. He'd never met a guy who worked from home before. There was always such a whirlwind of activity in Akaya's life that the quiet independence that seemed to define Omi's world felt strangely foreign. Akaya probably shouldn't get too comfortable.

Nevertheless, he was here, wasn't he?

"Why? You wanna get on with it?" Akaya said, grinning. Honestly, he wouldn't mind just talking for a moment. But he had no objections to the other thing, either.

Omi wrinkled his eyebrows, but caught himself grinning back as he picked up his mug and replied.

"That's not it. I was asking because it would be nice to know whether you have time for more than getting on with it. I never really know with you."

Five years ago, a tease like that probably would have embarrassed him. Just a bit, it still did, and he took a drink of his coffee in hopes the dust of pink on his cheeks would be excused as a product of the drink's heat.

"Though I guess the fact you went for the coffee before my pants should answer my own question, shouldn't it?"

"Heh." That was true enough. There might have been a time when the first words out of Akaya's mouth when he came in through the door was take off your clothes. HIs dark green gaze rested for a second on the hint of a blush rising in Omi's cheek. How he still managed to color like that after all they've done together was a mystery. Akaya found it amusing.

"I dunno, shorts are pretty quick to get into compared to pants. Guess I figured I could spare a minute to drink your coffee," he said, laughing warmly.

Omi snorted and slid around the island, bumping up against Akaya's side. "It has been a while. They must be keeping you pretty busy." Or something was. Omi wouldn't be surprised if Akaya had this sort of relationship with others and tonight just happened to be the one that Akaya wanted to see him. He didn't especially care to find out if that was the case either.

"Yeah, tour is coming up and all," Akaya said without elaborating too much. His schedule would ramp up even more in the weeks leading up to the tour, and then of course, he'd be on the road for a few months. That was how it went every other year. Even if Akaya were the committing type, where would he ever find the time? He sometimes showed up on Omi's doorstep pushy and demanding because you had to squeeze in some semblance of a connection when you could.

He turned toward him when Omi came around the island. Around Akaya's neck hung a silver Celtic knot pendant with a round obsidian set in the middle, a piece he usually wore, even on stage. His fingers had several rings on them, his wrists covered in black leather buckle bracelets. He pushed his coffee mug to the counter and let his hand settle on Omi's hip, pulling him closer.

"You miss me?"

He meant it as a tease, which Omi should surely deny. Akaya wouldn't know what to do if he actually said yes, and meant it.

Tour, yeah. Omi thought it was about time for that. He didn't know how Akaya could stand the upside down life he had, with barely any down time and so much travel and chaos everywhere he went. Omi would go crazy in that life. Having the man himself a few hours every few months was enough excitement. Mostly. He wouldn't say no to a few hours every few weeks instead.

His gaze lingered on the trademark pendant around Akaya's neck as he got pulled in closer. Funny. Omi never caught him without that thing. Sometimes, he wondered if that was deliberate, because it was important for Akaya to have one constancy that he could cling to to stay anchored in such a fast-paced whirlwind of existence.

At the question, Omi tipped his head and took another drink of his coffee.

"I'd be in a lot of trouble if I did that," he answered blithely. It was his own way of teasing back, as it was neither a denial nor a confession. And it was the truth either way.

He would, wouldn't he? Which is why Akaya never asked that question of himself, either. Sentimental things best remained in the romcoms that Shuji (his bassist) had an inexplicable taste for. His fingers curled around that hip in that firm, sure way he had about him.

"And you definitely don't want any trouble," Akaya said with equal blitheness. As if neither of them understood that Akaya was trouble on legs. But hey, their arrangement worked out plenty well so far. To both their satisfaction. He leaned closer, close enough that Omi could probably smell Akaya's shampoo and the coffee on his breath. He glanced down at the mug still in Omi's hand between them.

"You gonna finish that?"

Omi couldn't help another snort at that reply for the sheer irony of it. And while he was tempted to banter back that was true-- he had his hands full of that already-- the moment passed before it left his mouth. There was a warm, firm hand on his hip and warm air exhaled against his cheek. He'd be lying if he said it didn't stir the anticipation. He quirked an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth at Akaya's question.

"Don't tell me you really did only have one extra minute on account of the shorts."

But he put the mug on the counter and turned towards him, sliding his arms up around the back of the musician's neck.

"I'm ready anytime."

"Show up naked next time, and maybe I'll give you another extra minute," Akaya said with a chuckle, palming Omi's cheek with his other hand. The weird part of it was, he didn't find the idea of 'next time' objectionable. He didn't usually plan that far ahead when he was still knee-deep in the moment. He pushed the thought out of his head and concentrated instead on the willing body that he pulled against himself.

His lips found his, a slow, lingering kiss that tasted like caramel and coffee. For all the casual talk of getting it on, it was a sweet way to start, even if it was edged with Akaya's usual determination.

Omi had his banter ready-- Call next time, and maybe I'll have a chance to get naked first-- but their mouths met and he wasn't about to break a kiss for something like that.

He returned it with his typical bedroom demeanor, which was not as submissive as his appearance might suggest. Underneath the big eyes and easily turned cheeks was a plucky and generally confident young man with a mischievous side all to his own. Someday he would spring it on his partner just to see how he responded. For tonight, he allowed Akaya the reins, but met the challenge with enough interest and pushback to communicate it wasn't for lack of ability to play the role.

His embrace over Akaya's shoulders tightened a little.

The first time they met, Akaya had not expected Omi to accept his invitation to the gig. Akaya had thrown it out there as a professional courtesy after the guy did them a favor. But Omi had said yes, then that turned into an invitation for drinks, which turned into an invitation for something more... It was a night of yes, and yes, and hell yes, each one like a tantalizing door that Akaya wanted to open. Because behind that sweet face and innocent doe eyes was a flash of something fresh, not exactly full of experience but maybe a willing spirit to try. Akaya liked that.

One of these days, he'll coax it all out of him. For now, he was satisfied enough with the responsiveness of that body that pressed closer to him, arms that tightened eagerly around his neck. He gripped him harder at the hip and pushed him against the island, tilting his head to deepen the kiss with parting lips that was, what else, an invitation to more.

Omi grunted softly as the counter's edge dug into his back from Akaya's push. He was keenly aware of the contrasting sensations between his front and back: warm, firm pressure spread out against his torso, driving him against a concentrated point of cold, unyielding hardness. It wasn't very comfortable, but coupled with the deepening kiss, it had an arousing effect all the same. He arched his back into him, fingers raking into Akaya's shoulder muscles and neck craning to press his mouth harder against his partner's. He wasn't sure if it was a reaction to the discomfort, the arousal, or a combination of the two.

And in that moment, he couldn't care less which was the truth.

He liked the way Omi's body arched into him, slender and compliant and yet surprisingly bold. Akaya moved his palm down Omi's cheek, pressing his thumb against his chin to urge that mouth to open up. He slid his tongue inside, the heat of that kiss inducing a low growl in the back of his throat. He gripped that hip harder and pushed into it with his own, nevermind if the motion would send another stab to Omi's back from the counter behind him.

Omi's jaw obliged and hungrily welcomed Akaya's tongue inside. There might have been a moan, too, punctuated when his back went back into the countertop. God but it was hard to care about that now, though, with excitement and warmth flushing all through him, most pronounced between their joined hips. One of his hands dropped to the arm holding his hip, curling around the muscle as though to keep it in place.

His other hand dropped to Akaya's waist, fumbling for the hem to his shirt to get his fingers underneath.

That moan was swallowed up eagerly into the kiss as Akaya slid his tongue against Omi's, hot. His fingers slipped into the hair at the back of Omi's neck, fisting tightly. Maybe his initial aim when he walked in here a minute ago was to hang out for a while, but it didn't seem all too important anymore. Akaya was an improvisor, and no one could ever accuse him of going into anything half-assed.

His knee pushed in between Omi's legs, forcing them apart as his hand made its way down that hip to the thigh possessively.

The pull of Akaya's fist against the hair at his nape drew his head back, further slackening his jaw. Omi's fingers curled against the skin of his arm and waist. There was something intoxicating about the way Akaya handled him, passionate, claiming, almost violent. Their relationship was strictly casual, but when Akaya had his hands on him, it was hard not to think of himself as belonging to him.

The moan became a whine as the knee parted his legs and the hand trailed down his hip to his thigh. He grabbed at the hem of Akaya's pants for leverage, the better to push his hips against him with. It was impossible to bring them any closer without taking something off first, but damned if he could help trying anyway.

It might have been impossible to pull closer than they already were, but Akaya appreciated the effort anyway. He chuckled darkly into the kiss as he felt it, like a taut heat that pulsed between their hips. He thrust against him, greedy to feel more of that heat, enough to send a shudder down his spine. He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down the side of Omi's neck, grazing it ever so slightly with his teeth before he found just the spot to mark him. He'll probably have to wear a collared shirt for a few days, but Akaya didn't care.

It was unreal just how quickly Akaya could turn a situation from casual to hot. Omi knew it was because he held nothing back when he did shift gears, but that didn't make it any less impressive. He wanted him. Now. It was Akaya's pace, though-- and it seemed he was far from done teasing.

Omi panted out of the kiss until that hot mouth clamped down over that spot. That wonderful, wretched place on his neck that was way more sensitive than it had any right to be. He cried out, a shudder convulsing down his back and through his legs from the overwhelming wave of pleasure, and dug his nails into Akaya's flesh. It was simple reflex.

The bastard did it on purpose, Omi was certain.

Of course it was on purpose. You could hardly expect Akaya to discover such a weakness and not exploit it, could you? He had a bratty streak a mile long. You give him an inch, and he walked all over you. Especially when it brought him so much amusement. He laughed and pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. Or maybe to observe his expression, which was sure to be something worth seeing.

"Too easy."

He smirked. His hand moved back up the hip and under the hem of Omi's top, pushing the pesky fabric aside to caress the skin beneath.

The expression Akaya found was a mixture of arousal, vexation and embarrassment. Truly, what an undignified sound that had forced out of him! He huffed out a breath.

"Clearly not!"

Not that it changed anything. Akaya was still going to be a brat and Omi was still going to ultimately let him. What was really irritating was that it was a characteristic Akaya wore astoundingly well. Omi didn't think anyone else could make bratty attractive. He said nothing more of the stunt, instead grabbing the hem of his shirt to peel it hastily off and throw it out of the way to land on some hapless spot of floor.

Then he grabbed the back of Akaya's neck and pulled himself in for another kiss. If the man needed something to keep that mischievous mouth occupied, Omi could happily oblige.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject