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Giyuu insists he's a morning person.
He is, really. He has no problem rising with the sun to get some stretching in before going through his usual kata. His head is clear and awake and functional, even without a single sip of coffee.
It's the weekends that screw him over.
He wakes up at the usual early hour only to find his limbs locked in a hold that would be so easy to escape from, but well—
He doesn't really want to loosen those deceptively frail-looking hands clutching the waistband of his sweatpants. And once he closes his eyes again, and lets himself be lulled by Shinobu’s steady breathing, it’s easy to fall asleep again.
"It's the excess sleep that's making you dizzy," Shinobu says one late morning when Giyuu uncharacteristically bumps his head on the kitchen doorway.
"What?" He grunts, his expression even more blank than usual.
"Let me get you some coffee." Shinobu pats his cheek in amusement. There's a decent spread of food on his small corner table, and his stomach rumbles. He naturally gravitates towards the nearest chair and hits his knee on the table's leg.
Shinobu somehow manages to keep the laughter at bay, and sets down a cup of coffee in front of Giyuu instead.
He takes the blessed mug between his hands and takes a sip.
Giyuu blinks.
Shinobu sits down by his right with her own mug of tea.
Giyuu takes another sip.
"I—this coffee is salty."
Shinobu widens her eyes and blinks back at him, a perfect picture of innocence.
"Is it?"
Giyuu blinks again.
He squints down at his mug and squints back at Shinobu.
The window is right behind her, and Giyuu remembers he never sits there because the sun can get too hot at his back. Not that there's another place to sit at on this too-small table barely meant to fit two.
"...Yes?"
"What do you mean by yes?" Shinobu resumes drinking her tea and—
The sun is too bright.
Giyuu squints his eyes smaller.
What did he mean by yes?
Oh. He has coffee.
Giyuu takes several big gulps from his mug.
Shinobu nearly splutters out her tea.
"The coffee is salty." Giyuu sets down his mug and exchanges it for his chopsticks.
"I'll make sure they aren't salty next time," Shinobu says with a perfectly straight face that Giyuu doesn't even see, what a pity. She nearly loses it when she sees that the mug is almost empty.
She was prepared to switch out the coffee for a proper mug without a half teaspoon of salt added to it, she really was! She only wanted to see if Giyuu would notice and while he did, she didn't expect that he'd continue to drink it down.
Giyuu really is slow in the mornings, bless him.
And his distaste for certain things? Gets more evident, apparently.
It's probably close to lunch, which is why Giyuu is so hungry. He's always grateful that Shinobu takes the time to prepare a heavy meal during weekend mornings. They’re mostly reheated leftovers, yes, but he appreciates it regardless.
There's fried rice. Vegetable stir-fry. Miso soup. And that roasted chicken take-away from last night that's drowning in too much lemongrass flavour he could barely swallow it down.
Giyuu frowns. He pushes away the small serving plate with his chopsticks until it clinks against the dish holding the vegetables. There's not enough space in the table, and the plate really has nowhere to go, but the few centimetres he creates between his plate and the chicken totally counts.
"Giyuu-san."
He nudges it again.
"We shouldn't waste food, Giyuu-san."
Shinobu pointedly takes a piece with her chopsticks and drops it on his plate.
Giyuu looks up, and frowns.
"You bought this chicken yourself. So we won't waste it, and we'll never trust Murata-san's food recommendations ever again."
Giyuu stares at her. Then at the chicken. The single piece sitting on his plate magically becomes two as Shinobu drops another one beside it.
He grunts in protest and nudges the chicken strips to the edge of his plate.
"It tastes terrible."
Shinobu takes two pieces of chicken for herself.
"Well, yes, but—"
"I'd rather eat you out than have this."
The chopsticks still gripping the chicken slip from Shinobu's fingers and clatter to the ground. A squeak escapes her as she flushes red all over.
"Well it's true," Giyuu grumbles while pushing the chicken off his plate completely.
She's still not used to this side of Giyuu, with the unfiltered thoughts and casualness that only late mornings can bring. The overall shirtlessness and low-riding waistband and peeking hipbones and messy hair situation going on isn't really helping either.
Shinobu reaches for a napkin and wipes an invisible stain on the table just so her fingers will have something to do. She can't look at him—she can't, not when everything they did last night is flashing through her mind all because of a single throwaway phrase. And it's not like he noticed what he just said—or the implications of it even. He's just sitting there, calmly eating a carrot piece at a time.
Like he didn't leave her spluttering to find her words, and regain the wit she needs to always have the upper hand around him. Maybe this is Giyuu getting her back for the salty coffee.
Yes, that's it.
Because surely he doesn't mean anything else.
"We still need to ea–finish. All these food. We still need to finish lunch, regardless," Shinobu says while clearing her throat. A few deep breaths and her blush will go down.
A few deep breaths and she'll be able to utter her usual comebacks laced with gentler—because Giyuu really is something else when he sleeps in—affectionate teasing.
She's fine. It's all fine.
"Ah, you dropped your chopsticks."
"Yes—it's fine. I can—"
"Let me." Giyuu slides his chair back, and its legs scrape too loud against the tiles. He gets down on his knees to better reach one chopstick that rolled further under the table, one hand reaching out to steady himself landing on Shinobu's thigh. What little composure she's regained vanishes in an instant.
She can't move, can't breathe, as Giyuu tightens his grip on her while struggling to squeeze under the tiny table to find what he's looking for.
She nearly whimpers as his hand—accidentally? inevitably?—slides higher.
"It's wet."
What. Wait—what. She can't be. She's isn't—She isn't wet.
And even if she is—and she's not—how would he even know?
"W-wet?" She never stutters, damn him.
"The chicken sauce thing."
"Oh. I—well, here. Use this." The crumpled napkin is still in her hand. It's easy enough to dangle it under the table for him. She's so glad that Giyuu definitely can't see her now, because all the blood in her body feels like it's rushed up to her cheeks.
She's burning red, and she can't help it. She's all too aware now of how little she actually is wearing, having only slipped on her underwear after stealing a clean sweater from Giyuu's closet. She was decently covered for going around in the kitchen, but now that she's sitting down…
Giyuu carefully scoots back from where he's hunched under the table. He looks hilarious to be honest, and were Shinobu not so distracted she would absolutely be teasing him over this but—
His hold on her thigh keeps changing the longer he takes his time. It just keeps—moving around, and now it's transformed into an absentminded caress with his thumb brushing circles along her inner thigh.
And she knows he has no idea what he's doing, because aside from his hand, every other part of him is uncoordinated. Clumsy. He's going to hit his head any second now if Shinobu doesn't help him.
Giyuu's barely awake and he doesn't know what he's saying. All they're having is their usual Saturday lunch, and the sun is too bright outside for every inappropriate thought running through her head.
She covers the wooden edge with her palm to protect his forehead. He blindly reaches up to set the chopsticks and napkin-covered chicken luckily on the only empty spot on the table.
Giyuu glances down, and stops.
He seemingly fixates on his hand on her thigh. He squeezes down again, then runs his calloused fingers above her knee. This time, Shinobu can sense the intent behind his actions.
A voice that suspiciously sounds like Mitsuri echoes inside her head: ‘Go ahead and ask him!’
"So did you mean it? Earlier?"
Giyuu only scrunches his eyebrows in answer.
"When you said..." She can't—she can't very well ask.
She breaks away from his gaze and stares instead at her neglected bowl of rice. Slowly, she parts her legs. Just a bit, to hint at what she wants.
His hand on her disappears.
Shit.
She really did misread him. He's probably going to stand up now and resume his lunch and—
Shinobu yelps as the front leg of her chair gets tugged sideways,nearly making her tip as well.
"Giyuu-san!" She protests as he continues to pull the chair—and her—farther away from the table.
"What?"
She can't very well say, you'll damage the tiles now, can she?
Giyuu places his other hand on her seat itself beside her other thigh. It's easier now, to move them just far enough that her legs are freed from under the table.
"Stop it, I'm going to fall!" She slaps his bare shoulder to no avail.
"Why would you fall if I'm here?" Giyuu says, head tilted to the side, looking utterly confused.
Shinobu flushes again, suddenly aware of how close they are now and how Giyuu's naked chest is just—overwhelmingly there, right in front of her. Suddenly self-conscious, she tugs the ends of the sweater down to further cover up her thighs. Giyuu stops her with his hand covering hers. He gradually moves his fingers under her sweater, waiting for her to make any more protests.
Shinobu stays silent. She distinctly feels his blunts nails tracing the skin just outside the edge of her underwear.
"I forgot to kiss you good morning. Sorry." His eyes look more awake, and he does sound apologetic as he leans closer still to reach her waiting lips.
She loves that he always takes time kissing her. That he seems to genuinely enjoy even the simple act of their lips repeatedly brushing against each other. Slowly, carefully. As though months later, he’s still too shy to ask for the kisses she always wants to give.
Not that that mouth of his doesn’t get filthy. And shameless. And demanding.
His kisses too are capable of drawing out all the air from her lungs to leave her desperate to know what’s going to come next. It’s a promise and a prelude telling her that soon, she’ll be hard-pressed not to scream his name.
But this right now? Where she’s carefully tucking in his unruly hair behind his ear, where she’s the one gazing down at him for a change but she still lets him guide the flow of the kiss, where she feels the warmth from the sun on her nape and the heat emanating from his still sleepy body envelope her?
This is—easy.
It’s so easy being with him. It’s so easy exchanging barely-there kisses and soft pecks while she steals little touches with her fingers dancing along his broad shoulders and down that firm chest.
No, she’s not stealing.
She’s allowed. She has blanket permission to touch him anywhere she wants, and maybe one day she’ll stop feeling shy over it and be as shameless as Giyuu who, despite how timid his kisses are, suddenly slides his hand inside the back of her underwear to fondle her right cheek.
Shinobu’s starting to suspect this could be a thing of his, taking her by surprise and hearing her make the most embarrassing of squeaky sounds.
Her face must be so red by now..
“I won’t forgive you easily next time for forgetting,” she manages to say when Giyuu finally switches to nuzzling her jaw. That very distinctive disgruntled huff of his has her grinning.
But still, she is a bit confused though. What exactly is Giyuu doing with that hand of his? He keeps pulling on her panties, like he’s testing something, and at least he’s not letting it snap back on her skin or she would’ve hit him for it.
He’s causing unnecessary friction. As turned on as she is, it’s really not helping.
Is he… stretching her underwear?
“It won’t work.”
Shinobu knows better now than to assume before asking.
“What won’t work?” She tilts his chin up so she can see his face clearly and kisses his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s too tight. Sliding like this—” He removes his hand then with no warning, he tries tugging the crotch area of her underwear to the side to expose her.
Shinobu turns beet red.
He’s just—that strip of cloth must be drenched by now and Giyuu’s not even looking the tiniest bit bothered over it. She finds it embarrassing, really, that she gets so wet easily.
“See? Too tight. It won’t work.” His fingers are right there. He’s only managed to slide her panties partly to the side but his knuckles keep brushing against her and if she grinds up those fingers would part her open and—
Her panties easily shift back in place the moment Giyuu releases it. They really are too form-fitting for what he wants to do.
“Uhm. We can—I can remove it?” It’s not like they need to stay on. Shinobu’s still a bit timid in bed, but not that much. She’s a quick learner.
“Oh.” Did he really think she wanted to keep them on?
Giyuu’s really lucky he was born good-looking.
“But it sucks being butt-naked in that chair.” There’s the smallest of pouts forming on his lips and he sounds like he’s speaking from personal experience.
She is so horny, and feeling so embarrassed and shy, but she also wants to burst out laughing because Giyuu is so unbelievably funny sometimes, and she is so, so smitten with him.
“I won’t mind, promise.” And if it’s really that bad, well.
Shinobu can always buy him new chairs.
Giyuu kisses her again. Shinobu holds on to his shoulders, relenting easily at the increased pressure from his lips. He wraps an arm securely around her waist and wastes no time hefting her up just enough to drag down her underwear from behind. The moment she lands back on the chair, she understands what Giyuu means.
There’s something… weird about the finishing of the varnish in that particular area. It’s not rough, but definitely not as smooth as the wood below her thighs. She tries wiggling around to check for any abrasiveness as Giyuu sits back on his heels again while sliding her underwear down her legs.
She doesn’t watch Giyuu, though she has her legs partly raised at his prodding.
Seeing her last pair of clean panties travel down her legs is just—well it’s just a little bit too much, honestly.
And because she’s not watching—
She completely misses it.
Suddenly, a very loud thud.
And then, “Ow.”
Shinobu looks up.
She tries to hold it in, she does, she truly does. But Giyuu’s down on his butt and clutching at his forehead while glaring at the very offensive table edge that attacked him.
Shinobu snorts. She bites down hard at her lips but the giggles burst out of her so loudly she has to cover her mouth with her hand.
Giyuu stares at her with that usual accusing blank look on his face as though saying, really? You’re really laughing at me? Are you serious right now, Shinobu.
It only makes her laugh harder.
Giyuu huffs. He drags the chair he was using nearer and places her panties on the seat. Then he leans forward, steadying himself by holding on to her leg again.
“Sorry, sorry, here let me kiss it better.” Short giggles still escape from her. But she’s trying to stop them, really, she is. Giyuu must think she’s not trying hard enough because he just rolls his eyes back in answer.
He only resists for around five seconds though.
His hands move to her knees as Shinobu cups his face with both her palms. She kisses his forehead, and follows the path down to the tip of his nose.
“Ugh.”
Shinobu giggles again.
“You’re terrible.”
“I know, sorry.”
Giyuu groans and buries his face in her (technically, his) sweater, right on her chest. She straightens his hair out with her fingers, beyond amused at this little tantrum he’s throwing. Her cheeks are starting to hurt but the laughter in her seems to be abating at last. Did she straighten her legs too much that Giyuu had to scoot back further? Maybe. He probably forgot the table was even there.
It’s just so fun teasing him. Shinobu sighs, and her eyes soften in affection.
“You’re the silliest person ever, I swear. I can’t believe I love you.”
Shit.
Shit.
She wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.
She means her words of course—she just didn’t mean to say it.
Shit, shit, shit.
Shinobu stiffens, and glances down at Giyuu in panic. Maybe he didn’t hear? She was talking to herself quietly enough, wasn’t she? And if he did hear her words… then surely he’d do something, anything, that would clue her in, right?
But no, Giyuu remains unmoving in her hold. She has a palm pressed against his back, so she knows his breathing didn’t even change at all.
Maybe… maybe he didn’t even notice she spoke at all.
They’ve known each other for a huge chunk of their lives now, but they only got together two months ago. And while her feelings are genuine—and she knows that his are, too—they’ve never voiced any of it out loud again ever since that (rather, somewhat, definitely, but in hindsight, probably not) unfortunate evening where they went from being friends to something more.
Her heart is pounding. She can feel the beat echoing inside her ears and knowing that Giyuu can most likely hear how frantic it sounds exacerbates it further.
Giyuu exhales into a sigh, loud enough that it forces his breath through her sweater to waft over her burning skin. He peers up at her with that usual mix of kinda reserved, kinda confused, kinda exasperated, and kinda disgruntled expression in his eyes. Shinobu stares back, her own eyes wide.
“You keep distracting me,” he mumbles.
“I—of course not! I don’t—I never have! When did I ever—I don’t distract you!”
“It’s difficult looking away from you sometimes, is all.” He makes it sound like he’s genuinely inconvenienced by this, and it’s all her fault. Her mouth stays open in wordless protest because what does she even say to that.
“I don’t mind. You’re nice to look at. I like your face a lot. I’m just saying,” Giyuu continues. He doesn’t physically do it, but Shinobu can almost see his brain gears making a mental shrug and hear them say, nothing I can do about, I guess.
Is… is she supposed to tell him thank you for the compliment?
He manhandles her legs—gently, of course—and spreads them wider as he sits back on his heels again. Shinobu, feeling self-conscious, tucks her hair behind one ear and gathers all the strands to lay them over her shoulder. Giyuu frowns. Her hand freezes in midair. Now what.
“You should tone it down.” He huffs his complaint right at her knee.
“I’m… not sure how to do that…?” Granted, this has successfully distracted Shinobu from her earlier blunder. Now, she’s become so utterly confused.
Giyuu only grunts again, and it makes Shinobu sigh herself, a pout forming on her lips.
“It’s like you’re saying I should cover my face because it’ll make you feel better,” she grumbles. Giyuu pauses in the act of lifting her leg up, his head tilted to the side as if he’s actually considering Shinobu’s suggestion.
“It could work.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“No harm trying.” Giyuu even shrugs this time, the nerve of him. He waits and continues to blink back at Shinobu as though he’s wondering why she’s taking so long.
“Ugh. Fine.” Shinobu hides her face in her palms. She opens her fingers a bit only to see Giyuu glaring back at her.
“No peeking.”
“Fine, fine, fine. I won’t peek.”
“Thank you.”
Shinobu only huffs into her palms. This is better in a way, isn’t it? Giyuu’s gaze can be—well, overwhelming is an understatement, to be honest. She won’t feel as flustered if she can’t see him staring at her, right?
Her legs get hoisted over Giyuu’s shoulders. His hands grip both cheeks of her ass at once and tug her forward. She slides down a bit from the back of the chair but Giyuu’s grip makes sure she goes nowhere.
He’s suddenly so efficient, and she hasn’t even taken two breaths yet, but now his mouth has descended down on her and his tongue is opening her lips and licking inside then over her clit and inside again and now he’s sucking where her clit is still partly hidden and swiping his tongue again and all the while his fingers are digging in on her ass and pulling her crotch closer against his mouth and—
Shit, shit, shit.
Is it because she can’t see him? And what he’s doing? Is this why she feels keenly every hot exhale of air that he makes, why she shivers at the wetness of his tongue and the force behind his every kiss?
Her palms get damp from her own shaky breaths. She presses her fingers harder against her eyes but they do nothing to quell the clear mental image she has in her head of what exactly it is he’s doing to her.
She doesn’t have to see. Not when she can imagine him so clearly: that serious gaze full of steely determination as he gives all his effort to seek a task done and fulfilled. His stubbornness. His hunger. His need for her that burns within those normally ice-cold eyes of his. His affection. His indulgence. His exasperation for her teasing and how he shuts her up with the same mouth that’s making her almost wail uninhibited right now.
No.
She's lying.
She needs to see him.
One hand, she leaves over her mouth. She buries her fingers in his hair with the other and grinds up against his mouth best as she can. Her heels move restlessly across his back as she twists in his hold.
She curls her hand uncontrollably into a fist and bites down on one knuckle.
His wicked tongue is going to be the end of her.
Giyuu meets her eyes.
She falls over the edge.
Shinobu hunches over, tremors wracking her entire frame. Every nerve-ending she possesses sings at his command and her eyes shut as she sees stars.
His lips gentle. His kisses turn soothing with no more hint of demand. He sets her down again on the chair and smooth his palms over her trembling thighs. Shakily, Shinobu opens her eyes to find him still staring up at her. She whispers an apology when she untangles her fingers from his hair to show a few loose strands. He only takes her hand in his, and kisses her wrist.
There’s a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips that radiates so much smugness it makes Shinobu want to laugh.
She lowers her legs down carefully. Giyuu kisses her knee again, then leans his forehead against it. He never breaks his gaze, but it doesn’t feel heavy now. There’s so much affection in his eyes, and they cradle Shinobu as she basks in the afterglow. He looks utterly content, and it makes Shinobu feel so warm knowing it’s only her who can bring this look on his face.
“Shinobu.”
“Hmm?”
“I love you too.”
Her brain blanks.
…
…
…
In sheer panic, Shinobu kicks him straight on the chest.
Tomioka Giyuu, model student of Urokodaki-sensei, set to hold a solo exhibition on the art of sword wielding two weeks from now in front of a record crowd of at least five hundred, goes flying from the sheer force of Shinobu’s tiny foot.
He lands straight onto the nearby chair, and they both crash to the ground.
“Giyuu-san!” Shinobu scrambles to her feet in panic. Her bare knees land on the floor with a clear thud as she turns over Giyuu who’s still clutching his ribs.
He glares up at her with a fully formed frown.
Shinobu bites down on her lip and they stare at each other.
As always, it’s always her that cracks first.
Shinobu laughs, loud and uninhibited, with tears forming in her eyes.
She watches as Giyuu sits back up, and doesn’t bother to raise a single finger to help.