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“Good morning,” Sae says from where he’s standing at the kitchen counter, not glancing up from his toast. He’s almost done spreading jam perfectly over a layer of butter.
Rin’s answering Morning is rough from sleep. Sae’s expecting the arms that slide around his waist, the heavy weight of Rin’s body that settles over his shoulders as he leans into him. Rin swears that he’s a morning person, ask the blonde cockroach or something, he saw it in Blue Lock, but the Rin Sae knows is his sleepy, lazybones brother who only really wakes up after their morning yoga. Or after morning sex, when he gets his greedy paws on Sae before he has a chance to slip out of bed.
Maybe the dry Spanish heat is getting to him. Or maybe he’s just clingy. That’s okay—Sae’s clingy, too.
Rin's lips drag gently up the side of his throat, leaving tender kisses in a steady line. Sae’s chest aches from it all—the sweet touch, the casual way it’s offered, the reliable routine of it.
Wordlessly, Sae holds up the toast. Rin's hands stay around his waist as he leans in to take a bite. He lets out a satisfied hum at the taste, so Sae feeds him another bite before taking one for himself.
There's a little bit of jam on Rin's lip. Sae twists his upper body around to wipe it off, but Rin stops him with a pout. "You're not going to kiss it off?"
So needy. Sae darts in and licks the jam right off. Rin's mouth parts in surprise, a cute flush blooming over his face, and Sae sneaks his tongue against Rin’s. He’s sweet from the jam.
Sae finishes with a peck to Rin's wet mouth. He lets go of his jaw with one last tender stroke of his thumb, turning back to the counter to finish his breakfast. But Rin... he must be riled up now, because that wet mouth finds the column of Sae's neck, the shell of his ear, the curve of his shoulder.
“Rin,” he chastises, but he makes no move to shake him off. It's just in his nature to spoil Rin. And it's not like he doesn't want this, too.
One of the hands gripping his waist slips down over his pajama pants until Rin's fingers press into his clit through the fabric. It sends a delicious jolt through his body.
"Do you want me to stop?" Rin asks, voice smug.
"Shut up," Sae mutters, and Rin huffs in amusement but he doesn't push his luck. Instead, his fingers stroke over Sae's clit in a gentle rhythm, making him tense and grip the counter tighter.
They sway together softly, Rin’s breath turning ragged at just the feeling of Sae through his clothes. He always gets swept up in the heated rush of the moment and drags Sae along with him. It makes it easy—comfortable and shameless—to sigh and hum back at him, wordless approval that spurs Rin on to press harder against his clit and nip at his neck.
A quiet “Rin,” is enough of a plea to get Rin’s hand to slide into Sae’s pants. Sometimes sex between them is a push and pull, a mind game or a power exchange that is equally gratifying to win or lose. But right now, still shaking off sleep, embracing in the warm sunlight of the kitchen… it’s just the two of them working toward the same goal.
Rin’s fingers are quick and practiced as they work him over, stroking and squeezing faster and faster. His thighs flex around Rin’s hand, another unconscious reward that Rin takes as encouragement, because his fingers push further into the slippery heat between them. He barely dips into Sae’s easy, slick center, but the feeling startles a whimper out of him. Rin curses.
He sinks deeper inside. Sae’s really shaking now, little tremors all over, hands white-knuckled on the counter to ground himself. When Rin curls his fingers and thumbs at Sae’s hard, throbbing clit, Sae breaks, just like that, pleasure crashing through him.
He bows his head, choked noises forced out of him by the orgasm Rin gently pets out of him. Rin moans back. He’s hard against Sae’s ass. Sae knows that he can come like this, too, with just a little dry humping and Sae clenching around his hand. Sae’s good boy, as easy for nii-chan as nii-chan is for him.
Sae has other plans, though, so, with a shiver, he tugs at Rin’s wrist.
Rin slips out of him carefully, bringing his fingers straight to his mouth. Of course. Sae turns to face him, back to the counter, and watches Rin lick and suck the cum off his fingers. Sae parts his lips, tongue out, and Rin hurries to press his own tongue against it, sharing the taste. He’s still lax from his orgasm, so he has to fight to keep up with Rin’s eager makeout, but he doesn’t mind. He encourages it, actually: moaning into Rin’s mouth, yanking him closer by the hips so Rin can grind that thick, hot cock against his front, sliding his hands down to Rin’s incredible ass and kneading big handfuls of it like a contented cat.
“Nii-chan,” Rin whines. “Wanna fuck you.”
Sae releases Rin’s lower lip from where he’d been sucking it with a pop. “Mmm, yeah.”
It’s enough permission for Rin, whose patience has apparently reached its limit. Sae’s wrists are snatched and yanked away from his favorite stress toy, and then his body is spun around and shoved forward against the counter. He’s still steadying himself when his pants are dragged down. Rin kicks his legs apart—gentler than he’s capable of kicking on the field, but not exactly gentle— and Sae’s barely even shivered at the cold air hitting his wet cunt before Rin’s pressing the searing heat of his cock against it.
“Fuck!” Sae hisses. “You’re so—” terrible? Hot? The thought is interrupted by the head of Rin’s dick spreading his hole open and stealing his breath. He finishes the sentence with a garbled ngh.
“Nii-chan,” Rin says, reverent and amazed, like he can’t believe Sae lets him do this. It’s so ridiculous, Sae thinks, chest glowing warm. He lets Rin do this every goddamn day.
Rin pushes inside and inside and dizzyingly inside, Sae’s body squeezing hard enough to hurt, like he never wants Rin to go. Rin covers his neck in kisses, arms wrapping around him in the sweetest hug, murmuring nii-chan, nii-chan, over and over until Sae breathes and settles and nudges his hips back.
“Sae,” Rin groans then, as he rocks himself out and back in, hollowing out Sae’s insides and leaving a desperate craving in his wake. Sae whines high in his throat, and Rin doesn’t stop.
His presence is overwhelming, everywhere—arms restraining Sae’s torso, body draped over his back, mouth marking up his neck, and, of course, cock relentlessly drilling into his cunt. Sae feels the exact moment that the unmistakable drip of drool starts wetting his nape. Rin’s pace picks up, the sound of his hips smacking Sae’s ass filling the kitchen.
Rin unwinds his arms and Sae slumps, melting inside-out from the flame Rin is stoking in his guts. A hand hikes one of his legs up from under the knee. Rin’s cock hits him impossibly deeper, like he’s fucking all the way up in his stomach, and Sae’s eyes roll shut as he comes.
He buckles forward, the plate of toast scraping as it’s shoved aside, the knife clattering onto the countertops and probably getting jam everywhere. Fuck! He doesn’t care, too busy being loud, loud, so loud he’ll be embarrassed about it later, crying out as his orgasm shakes him apart.
Rin follows him with erratic thrusts, another whine of Sae’s name, and a hot spill inside him. As they lean in a heap against the counter, Rin’s cum drips down his thigh.
“The toast is cold now,” Sae says once he’s caught his breath.
“Worth it,” Rin mutters.
Sae’s lips twitch up, satisfaction curling through him. Yeah. It was.