pslplz | Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

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.

There were all kinds of things Akaya could do with his mouth to keep it occupied. Kissing Omi wasn't a bad option, so he didn't resist when he was pulled into it. He was grinning too, as he shrugged out of his leather jacket, letting it dropped just as carelessly as Omi's shirt. Their lips only parted just enough so he could yank his own sleeveless top off. He hissed appreciatively under his breath as their bodies pressed together, hot breath and eager hands falling on bare skin.

He didn't waste much time to reach between them and get into those much talked about shorts, grabbing him in a sure grip that would coax it up, if he wasn't already at full attention.

Omi wasn't about to get in the way of Akaya taking his clothes off, even if a part of him was loathe for any distance between their bodies. The jacket and top disappeared, revealing an irresistible set of abs and nicely defined chest that Omi immediately put his hands on. Fingers traced hard curves of muscle on their way to the hem of Akaya's pants; they jerked into a grip around it through a hiss of pleasure when Akaya grabbed him-- no need for coaxing up.

He tugged and fumbled at the fly to those dark pants, eager to get inside them.

Sometimes, Akaya might lend him a hand in the fly department, depending on his mood and whether he felt like Omi wasn't being adept enough with his fingers. Tonight, he figured he'd let him fumble with it on his own. And in any case, Akaya had his own hand full already. He curled his fingers around him, giving him a rough stroke. Any sounds Omi might make he would muffle with his mouth, which he had quite occupied with an equally rough kiss.

Omi didn't try to hold back his groaning at the firm grip rubbing against him. Akaya's roughness hurt a little but it felt so good at the same time. Few people came at him with that kind of passion behind it.

The button finally came free, the zipper following suit quickly after. Omi blindly yanked the pants down over the hips and dug his hand into Akaya's boxer briefs to take hold of him near the head. His other soon followed, slipping lower and cupping underneath.

What was the point of holding back? If it was something Akaya wanted to do, he just went for it with everything he had. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to press up against the lithe body that reacted so gratifyingly to his touch. But that didn't mean he was just going to bend him over and get it over with (not that he minded the quick and dirty either).

He grunted appreciatively when Omi wasted no time putting his hands on him. He did like that feisty side of him. He slid his other hand from Omi's neck, palm moving deliberately down his torso and ending at his hip. He hooked his fingers to the hem of his shorts and tugged them off.

"Never thought shorts could be hot," he said with a smirk, between heated kisses.

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