Work Text:
You and Ijichi have spent most of your relationship working around your schedules because, well, you have to. It’s just how things have always been in your busy lives; schedules don’t align, free time becomes scant, and with Ijichi being quite the problem solver, it only took one instance of mismatched expectations before he made sure the two of you set up a nice compromise. From then on, when life got in the way you knew that even if you can’t sit and enjoy meals together or take your walks together or enjoy your evenings, the two of you could still chat over the phone. Sure, it may take a while to get a response, but it’s better than nothing.
The best part of that compromise had come about quite naturally, when the two of you had taken to daydreaming of plans, knowing that things will work out eventually, and you’ll enact them then. So that’s what you did, planting seeds to help grow when the elements agreed to such a thing, and enjoying knowing time together would mean that much more in the meantime.
This time was no different—little hastily sent texts reading “I miss you”, links to new menus at your favourite restaurants, an interesting show one of your coworkers spoke about that you planned to cuddle and watch together once work stopped stealing all of your days. Then the time finally approaches. You’re already home, and Ijichi isn’t far behind, waiting on a few students he needs to drop off after an assignment and then he’ll be right home. You solidify your plans via text as you wait in your respective spots: Ijichi in his car, and you curled up on the couch of your shared apartment.
are you sure just two episodes is fine for tonight?
ofc Kiyo! I miss you but we have to sleep too lol
you’re right 🥺
lemme know when you’re on your way back and I’ll order food 😘
ok, that should be perfect timing
The time between the final confirmation of tonight’s plans and Ijichi texting you that he’s on his way passes just as slowly as the rest of your time apart, but you both finally have something on the horizon other than work and that keeps you going.
You’ve only just gotten your food delivered and sat the containers on the counter when you hear Ijichi’s key pushing into the lock on the front door with a familiar set of clicks. You make your way there to greet him, smile wide with excitement for your night ahead when he finally comes into view and shuts the door behind him. He sets his keys on the little table next to the door and hasn’t even removed his suit jacket before you’re approaching him happily.
“Hi, Kiyo!”
He sighs happily, head tilting as he looks at you with a twinkle in his eye, like just seeing your face was the salve to heal all the wounds he’d received just from being apart so long. “Hi, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
“No, the food only just got here.” You move to hug him, and for as tightly as you squeeze, he squeezes that much tighter. You let him, enjoying the proximity, the familiar smell of him, before a question comes to you and you pull back.
“Oh, do you want to eat at the table? Or while we watch tv?”
“Um…“ he looks towards the kitchen, then back at you, chewing his bottom lip as he thinks. He takes a moment much longer than you’d have thought such a question would require, and you step back from his embrace a little further to take in his expression.
There’s a strange look in Ijichi’s eye, less like the calm happiness that he usually has on your nights together. Something much more reminiscent of the eager honeymoon phase of the beginning of your relationship—like he doesn’t know what to say, like he might just mess everything up if he figures that out and makes those thoughts known.
“Kiyotaka? Are you okay?”
“I’m just… it’s good to…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to wave his thoughts away, but it’s to no avail. He takes off his glasses and tosses them haphazardly onto the counter next to his keys, and pulls you into a kiss. It almost makes you laugh, how eager he is, and how hesitant he’d seemed before. As if you’d ever deny him affection. But then he’s holding your face in both hands and pressing his body to yours and he’s hard.
It’s not like Ijichi to cut straight to the chase like this, bypassing all words and formalities in search of every part of you he could possibly get his hands on—but once he’d had you he’d never gone so long without.
It surprises even him, as he pulls his mouth back to speak, to explain, but all that comes out is a shaky breath before his lips are drawn back to yours. There was even less hope for him to pull his hands away from you, firmly grasping your face to keep you held close so he can use where your mouths meet as the spine for where the pages of your limbs are bound together. His thin leg is slotted between your thighs, pressing at you with the same urgency with which he grinds his clothed hardness against you.
His hands search for your hips, but can’t part long enough so his fingertips graze along your neck, taking in every muscle, feeling your hitching breaths from where they form below your clavicle. He squeezes at your sides for a moment before he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling every inch of your body as if all of it needed to be refreshed in his mind from your absence. Each new area his hands explore elicits another noise from him; sighs, groans, whines, all from his mouth to yours as the prospect of parting your lips is not one he’ll entertain now that he’s captured them.
His hands make their way to the hem of your top, working beneath it to tickle at your heated skin, running his palms across your stomach until he’s pulling your shirt upwards. He falls to his knees, lips parting from yours and you can only just catch a frenzied breath of ”Missed you-“ before he kisses at your stomach. He presses his face to you there, indulging in the softness and warmth, licking and sucking at the skin and leaving marks he normally would not.
“Kiyo, what about you?”
He looks up at you, swollen lips still kissing at your skin, as if only your voice could remind him there might be something to focus on other than you, the feel of you, the smell of you, the taste of you.
Ijichi pulls the bottom of his shirt loose from where it had been tucked into his trousers, but a few buttons is all he can manage to undo before he has to return his hands to your body and it’s like the previous diversion has never happened as he squeezes at your hips before sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants.
He’s even more firm in his goal now, his usual hesitation cast aside and replaced with desperation as he pulls the remainder of your clothes down, mouth latching to the wetness awaiting him before he’s even gotten your panties past your knees. The first taste has him groaning into you, eyes half opened but focused on nothing, pale face long ago turned bright red and now beautifully displayed before you in stark contrast to the soft hair between your legs. He buries his nose there, nudging at your clit as he laps at your wetness, sucking and licking and only coming up for air when his fingers are finally drawn to delve past your folds in place of his writhing tongue—much too short to reach the spots he knew by now that you needed.
His fingers work feverishly, mouth open and moaning as his tongue toys with your clit, and his other hand grips and squeezes at your thigh. It’s only so long before even that isn’t enough as he slides his hand down your thigh to glide along your calf, shoving your clothes down further until you’re trying your best to kick them off without interrupting him from his desperate need to taste you. You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it down to join everything else as you run your fingers through his hair, rocking against his face gently and clenching at his fingers when the action makes him whine against you.
Your fingers trace along his scalp, moaning out his name, and it breaks something in him. His fingers slide out of you suddenly, as his hands work desperately to undo his trousers and shove them down, before he’s pulling you onto his lap. There’s a passing inclination to move yourselves elsewhere: the couch, the rug, the comfort of your bed. You worry for his knees on the hardwood floors, worry that he’ll be uncomfortable, but with the way that his trembling hands try to line himself up with your entrance, whine emanating from his throat at just having his tip in the briefest contact with you, you don’t think he could handle the wait of a few steps travel.
So you help guide him to you properly, and the way his eyes lock on yours, flustered and appreciative and out of his mind to be inside of you, helps you take him all without hesitation.
“Th-thank you…”
Here he is, thanking you, when he’s the one loving you, caring for you, worshipping you wordlessly because he doesn’t have the heart to do anything less than show you just how much he’s needed you. You cling to his shoulders as you rock into his movements, freeing his hands to go back to their desperate groping of your body, finally resting around your waist and pulling you flush to him.
His whines are stifled as he draws one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently as he looks up at you in a daze, brows twitching with every moan you let loose, matching your expressions as every step you take to your end tugs him right along with you. The way he thrusts up into you is sloppy, desperate, and when your pleasure reaches a frenzy and you begin clenching around him, he releases your breast, only able to indicate that he wants you to kiss him by looking up at you, a pleading look just breaking through the adoration plastered all over his face as he sticks his tongue out gently.
Your mouth meets his, just as desperately as your hips, and it’s the final straw to your undoing. Your orgasm is blinding as you both cling to each other with a desperation you had not felt since the very beginning of your relationship, it borders on too much, but as Ijichi begins to spill inside of you, it’s as if it will never be enough as you ride out the last of your orgasm until your boyfriend is panting beneath you.
This time, as you hold each other on the floor of your shared apartment, neither of you sees any reason to let go; cooling food and sore knees be damned, because all that matters is you’re back together, for now.