major content warnings: none word count: 564 fandom: daiya no ace pairing: kuraryou
a/n: inspired by kyousougiga
'What can I expect today, Youichi,' Ryousuke whispers into his neck, arms drooping carelessly across Youichi's chest. He's tracing circles onto his skin, the collar of the red yukata Youichi wears drawn wide open, the sash holding it together hardly covering the rest of his body.
Youichi blinks slowly, smiling as Ryousuke fetters his neck in small kisses, little bites that alert him to the new day faster than the tea that's whistling on the stove a few feet over. Ryousuke stands reluctantly, running his hands through Youichi's hair before lightly stepping to the stove. He pours two cups of tea and saunters back; he's mildly disappointed that Youichi's hands and attention have returned to the canvas in front of him.
Tt's an old thing; the binding is worn and falling apart, the leather aging into a dull brown. The pages feel like old parchment, as if with enough pressure they could fall apart in your hands. Youichi handles them with care, his fingers scanning the many blank pages until he finds one that feels right. Ryousuke smiles, blows over the steam of his tea and watches.
'What are you feeling like today, Ryou-san?'
Ryousuke ponders the question, humming. He's distracted by the skin at Youichi's neck, tan and darkened by a few hours too many in the baking sun. 'Surprise me,' he says softly, tugging on the thin material of Youichi's robe. it falls over his shoulders giving way to the dark shadow of a tattoo that hugs Uouichi's back. Intent on his work, Ryousuke can barely see the reddening of his lover's face.
Youichi recovers quickly, reaching into a wooden box to his left. Inside is an array of brushes varying in size and shape. Youichi selects a thin tool, the bristles fine and capable of immense detail. Ryousuke's smile widens.
When at work, Youichi is meticulous and efficient - he covers the width of the canvas in strokes so fast that Ryousuke can hardly keep up. The ink is black, always black, the color only coming to life when Youichi wills it. He rests his legs on Youichi's lap and lets his mind wander.
Minutes pass and Ryousuke is content; Youichi is a natural extension of his own body, his movements filled with ease and as comfortable as if they were his own. His eyes flutter open when he feels Youichi shift underneath him.
'Are you ready?' he asks softly, eyes lit and smile wide.
'I always am.'
Youichi places his hands to the finished piece, palms down on the paper and whispers, mutters a series of words so quiet that in all their years together Ryousuke has never truly been able to discern what he says.
Streams of black pour out of the page, weaving around Youichi and Ryousuke like snakes; Youichi charms them from their place with practiced lips, whispering until the page is blank and the room is filled.
Flowers surround ryousuke in full bloom, large, vibrant petals that sing of Youichi's mind, a loud meld of orange and green and red. To his left, a lily; to his right a valley of roses. Ryousuke sips his tea before setting the cup down, resumes his trail of kisses down Youichi's back, finally able to pull his robe to the ground.
'Are you surprised?' Youichi asks, letting his head tilt back, resting underneath Ryousuke's chin.
fill: team miyuki kazuya/sawamura eijun, T
word count: 564
fandom: daiya no ace
pairing: kuraryou
a/n: inspired by kyousougiga
'What can I expect today, Youichi,' Ryousuke whispers into his neck, arms drooping carelessly across Youichi's chest. He's tracing circles onto his skin, the collar of the red yukata Youichi wears drawn wide open, the sash holding it together hardly covering the rest of his body.
Youichi blinks slowly, smiling as Ryousuke fetters his neck in small kisses, little bites that alert him to the new day faster than the tea that's whistling on the stove a few feet over. Ryousuke stands reluctantly, running his hands through Youichi's hair before lightly stepping to the stove. He pours two cups of tea and saunters back; he's mildly disappointed that Youichi's hands and attention have returned to the canvas in front of him.
Tt's an old thing; the binding is worn and falling apart, the leather aging into a dull brown. The pages feel like old parchment, as if with enough pressure they could fall apart in your hands. Youichi handles them with care, his fingers scanning the many blank pages until he finds one that feels right. Ryousuke smiles, blows over the steam of his tea and watches.
'What are you feeling like today, Ryou-san?'
Ryousuke ponders the question, humming. He's distracted by the skin at Youichi's neck, tan and darkened by a few hours too many in the baking sun. 'Surprise me,' he says softly, tugging on the thin material of Youichi's robe. it falls over his shoulders giving way to the dark shadow of a tattoo that hugs Uouichi's back. Intent on his work, Ryousuke can barely see the reddening of his lover's face.
Youichi recovers quickly, reaching into a wooden box to his left. Inside is an array of brushes varying in size and shape. Youichi selects a thin tool, the bristles fine and capable of immense detail. Ryousuke's smile widens.
When at work, Youichi is meticulous and efficient - he covers the width of the canvas in strokes so fast that Ryousuke can hardly keep up. The ink is black, always black, the color only coming to life when Youichi wills it. He rests his legs on Youichi's lap and lets his mind wander.
Minutes pass and Ryousuke is content; Youichi is a natural extension of his own body, his movements filled with ease and as comfortable as if they were his own. His eyes flutter open when he feels Youichi shift underneath him.
'Are you ready?' he asks softly, eyes lit and smile wide.
'I always am.'
Youichi places his hands to the finished piece, palms down on the paper and whispers, mutters a series of words so quiet that in all their years together Ryousuke has never truly been able to discern what he says.
Streams of black pour out of the page, weaving around Youichi and Ryousuke like snakes; Youichi charms them from their place with practiced lips, whispering until the page is blank and the room is filled.
Flowers surround ryousuke in full bloom, large, vibrant petals that sing of Youichi's mind, a loud meld of orange and green and red. To his left, a lily; to his right a valley of roses. Ryousuke sips his tea before setting the cup down, resumes his trail of kisses down Youichi's back, finally able to pull his robe to the ground.
'Are you surprised?' Youichi asks, letting his head tilt back, resting underneath Ryousuke's chin.
'Always.'