pslplz | Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

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.

Had Akaya been in the mood, Omi could easily have obliged quick and dirty that night (and possibly a Round 2 if there was time). He shifted his hips to help Akaya get the shorts off.

"I like them better on the floor." After a beat (from another kiss), he added, "Us too."

He sunk slightly, as though encouraging Akaya to take the hint and come down with him. The tile was going to be freezing cold against a bare back, but it was weirdly erotic to have that contrast of cold and hard versus hot and fleshy, like the moment of the counter's edge digging into him from behind.

"Fine by me," he said with a laugh.

If Omi didn't mind the cold tile floor, then who was Akaya to argue? He followed him down eagerly, pushing him to his back with a firm hand to his shoulder. His own body pressed him down further as he came to settle on top, smirking lips finding Omi's frantically. He liked this spontaneity, the urgency that couldn't seem to wait for the next touch, the next kiss. He ground their hips together, muffling his own gasp into their locked lips.

Omi gasped from the shock of cold hitting his back; even if it was a feeling he'd invited, it was still impossible to prepare for it. He loved it, though, especially once he felt Akaya's weight pressed against him and pinning him to the tile. He worked Akaya's underwear off him while they kissed before squirming a hand between their bodies to touch him again.

It was always like this when Akaya came over. However much Omi tried to be annoyed at him for his unannounced arrivals and the messes he left behind, it never lasted more than a minute, and before long they were tangled in each other's limbs, unable to keep their hands off each other. It was different, too. Omi had been with others, including recently. The sex could be good and the interaction friendly, but it didn't have this kind of passion behind it. Sometimes, Omi wondered if it was something Akaya brought into the equation the way he brought it to his music, or if it was something in himself that was innately more alive when they were together. Possibly, he would never know the answer.

"You're right," Akaya said breathily between kisses, "you're better on the floor." Whatever minutes they apparently saved because of the shorts didn't give them enough time to move things to a place like the couch. Akaya didn't care though. Omi seemed happy enough to get pressed into the tile under him, and that eagerness was something he found rather appealing. He trailed his mouth hotly down Omi's neck, tracing the curves there with a graze of teeth while his hands explored the lithe body beneath him from the collarbone, down across his ribs and over abs.

"It's always better with something hard," Omi answered with deliberate vagueness. He wasn't kidding, either. He enjoyed rough, raw, even borderline painful sex, hips that slammed against him and a thrust that buried deep. He liked the drag of nails and teeth over his skin, a forceful tongue in a solid press against his mouth. Hands that squeezed, pinned, and held fast to him. Small though he was in stature, he had a sturdy body from muscle-building activities like rock climbing and swimming; he wasn't going to break.

He groaned and ground his hips against Akaya as he placed his hands on those shoulders and tried to push him lower.

"I want your mouth on it..."

"On the floor?" Akaya said teasingly. But he wait for an answer, shifting lower to put his mouth exactly where Omi wanted it. His fingers curl hard around him and gave him hard stroke before he bent down to take him with his mouth, hot. Nothing teasing about it.

Omi didn't dignify that tease with an answer. Akaya knew what he meant and his next move proved as much. Besides, it was getting increasingly difficult to think up anything witty through the tight tension of arousal in his body. And when that mouth made contact, it might as well have been labeled impossible.

Through a loud grunt and heavy breathing, Omi's fingers groped down and tangled in ebony curls, loosely holding Akaya in place. God but he'd missed this. To admit it was forbidden, but Omi knew it was true all the same. It was the reason that, without fail, his door opened to Akaya's ring when Goku was out. He'd be left with a mess to clean up every time, inside and out, and it would be two or three days before he settled fully back into his usual routine. And he would do it again, every time, because for all his initial grouching, it was worth it.

In a way, it might even be that the fussiness of his greeting was for subconscious distancing, as though to prove to both of them he wasn't as glad to see this bundle of trouble as he was.

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