Hey all,

Long time.

For those of you who have been wondering if I ever planned to write anything new again, here's your answer. Hope you enjoy it.

Shifting Sands

Chapter Two

As Nowaki stepped through the door his senses were greeted with the familiar comforts of his home.

Despite the fact it was even possibly warmer in the apartment than it was outside, he smiled and breathed a little deeper.

It was Friday. He and Hiroki would be going out to dinner at Pandasan, so he knew there were no homey aromas of Hiroki's cooking to detect. But still the smell of old books, wood oil, fresh laundry, and their mixed individual scents soothed him.

Setting his keys in a dish that sat on the small table inside the entry, Nowaki once again admired the stately cobalt blue Edo period ikebana form also occupying the tabletop.

The vase had appeared at their door in an unmarked box a few days after his adoption had been finalized. Given the Senior Kamijou's love of ceramics and the discussion they'd had about his collection before Hiroki formally asked that Nowaki be accepted into the family, he and Hiro-san had known immediately who the box had come from.

It had been the senior Kamijou's way of letting them know that while he still didn't quite understand, he supported his son's decision and, though neither Nowaki nor Hiroki had openly acknowledged this to one another, both were immensely grateful for the token.

A single branch of orchids stood in the vase now; its convoluted stem tipped at an aesthetic angle.

With all his years of floral experience, Nowaki felt the sudden desire to caress its multi-hued petals and rotate the stem another few millimeters to the left. But he refrained, knowing that in all likelihood Hiro-san had spent considerable time moving the flower to this particular position for viewing.

He was pleased with his partner's attention to such detail even though only the two of them would see it.

Nowaki bent slightly to work off one of the boots he was wearing. The mid-calf length, black leather footgear was a concession to Hiro-san's concern for his safety on the Yamaha, but they were far more difficult to slip out of than his usual sneakers.

As his foot slid from the hot confines of the boot, Nowaki's ears picked up the low sounds of a piano, playing Nakamura Yuriko's "Long, Long Ago." The music was coming from a portable speaker sitting out on the dining room table attached to Hiroki's ipod.

Hiroki had played the composer's pieces often in his youth, finding Nakamura's works generally softened his restless edges. Nowaki knew this and recognized this piece as part of the mix set Hiro-san listened to whenever he was working on the organizational aspects of his book.

He was surprised by this obvious sign of his partner's presence. Since he was home early, he had expected Hiro-san to still be at the University gym, swimming laps.

Miyagi had suffered a mild heart attack earlier that year and since then, although the incident had been declared primarily the result of the older professor's chain-smoking habit, Hiroki had become rather fanatical about resuming the athletic habits of his youth.

Stilling a moment, Nowaki allowed the sweet notes whispered between piano and violin to wash over him. Lifting his eyes back to the ikebana, he thought the piece was the perfect accompaniment to the orchid.

Freed from his shoes now, Nowaki peeled off his socks and wiggled his toes. They were as delighted as he to be free for the moment.

Reveling in this feeling, Nowaki disregarded his house slippers. He moved barefooted down the hall to put his stockings in the hamper of the apartment's closet-sized laundry, carefully navigating the piles of books that covered the floor.

The floor had been relatively clean when he had left early that morning for the hospital, but Hiro-san had obviously gone into another book sorting flurry.

A sense of nostalgia gripped him. Nowaki's mind was suddenly awash in scenes of Hiroki's book-cluttered college apartment. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. He remembered how palatial Hiro-san's place had struck him when he was eighteen compared to his own closet sized flat, even with all the books.

As the date for their trip to California drew nearer, Hiroki had become increasingly worried that the four boxes of books and supplies for his research he'd already sent ahead to the estate where they would be spending three weeks' vacation would not be enough.

Nowaki surmised that in his nervousness Hiro-san had been going through his library again, ensuring that there wasn't some critical text he'd forgotten.

Hiro-san is so cute.

Entering the hall, Nowaki thought he might grab a fresh shirt from the bedroom, but as he neared the closed door he could hear Hiroki's muffled growl behind it. His brow rose.

He must be on his cell.

Rather than go in, he stepped quietly down polished wood floor to the laundry, not wanting to disturb Hiro-san's call.

He had recognized the tone of Hiroki's rough voice immediately, even through the door. There was only one person Hiro-san spoke to with that particular reverence: his father.

After placing his socks in the hamper, Nowaki checked the washing machine. Though he was tired from his taxing surgical schedule, he was not ready to be still. He pulled a load of newly laundered towels into a basket and headed out to the balcony to hang them, knowing that with the humidity as it was, it would take some time for them to get dry.

Out on the balcony a lazy breeze pressed warm lips his forehead.

It is hotter in the apartment than outside.

Peering over a line-draped towel and in through the apartment's open sliding glass doors, Nowaki noted the small fan set near their dining table; though not so close it would flutter the pages set in piles around Hiro-san's open laptop.

They had two fully functioning air-conditioning units in their apartment, one in the main room and a separate window unit in their bedroom. However, over the last few days on the news, Tokyo officials had been requesting that citizens try to minimize their use of air-conditioning if possible. The hot weather had put considerable strain on the city's utilities of late.

Nowaki knew that Hiroki, with his strong sense of civic responsibility, was keeping their usage to a minimum, despite how irritable the sweltering heat made him.

Dipping his head down Nowaki picked up another towel. He could hardly wait for them to get to their vacation destination in Monterey. He'd been tracking the weather on his tablet at work and had been delighted to see that things had been holding to around twenty degrees Celsius during the day.

His mind drifted to the undoubtedly cooler evenings and the idea of a chilled Hiro-san uttering the words that even after all these years never failed to thrill him.

"Nowaki, I'm cold."

Despite the heat, a delicious tremor shivered through Nowaki's lean frame. At the same time, however, a tiny sense of disquiet twisted in the pit of his stomach.

Three weeks… in just a few days we have three weeks in each other's company without work.

In all of the years we've been together we've hardly had three whole days together, let alone three weeks. What if after all this time we find out that it was our distance from each other that has held us together?

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

Nowaki mumbled this under his breath as he hung up the last towel, hoping to reassure himself with his words.

I can't afford such negative thoughts. Life is a fleeting thing, time precious. Every day at the hospital shows me this.

Just think, "three weeks…"

What an amazing treasure.

I have to cherish this… and cherish Hiro-san. Who knows when we might have such a chance again?

Rallied by these thoughts, Nowaki picked up the now empty basket and stepped into the apartment.

He looked up just in time to see Hiro-san moving into the main room; his call obviously finished. Hiroki held an open book just below his chest, clasped in his smooth, long fingered hands, reading as he navigated the text-strewn floor on autopilot.

Nowaki felt his chest hitch: Hiroki had succumbed to the heat of the apartment.

He was barefoot too, his normally sharply creased dress slacks had been discarded and his lower half was clad in only a pair of loose cotton boxers with a tight plaid pattern in various shades of blue and grey. His upper torso sported one of his light, short-sleeved summer workshirts, but this hung open, unbuttoned and Hiroki's smooth torso shone creamily bare beneath this.

Hiroki stopped in the middle of the room. One of his hands moved and a finger caressed a line of characters as it followed his eyes over a particular passage. His brow thoughtfully furrowed.

As he stood he slipped one foot up on its ball. His slightly bent knee swung in a languid side to side motion: a graceful pendulum to his thoughts.

Seeing his partner like this, all doubts of how they would fare together during their vacation slipped from Nowaki's mind. He felt his heart beat faster at Hiro-san's unconscious sensuality.

The apartment suddenly felt even hotter and Nowaki's heated blood surged to his groin.

Hiroki started when he heard Nowaki clear his throat. He looked up from his book, his dark eyes filled with surprise.

Nowaki noted that Hiro-san's hair looked slightly damp and wondered if this was from the heat or if he had recently showered. He longed to step over and bury his nose in Hiroki's dark mane to find out, but instead he reluctantly stilled himself and waited.

Hiroki's raised foot flattened and his forehead took on a different crease.

"You're home early."

Hiroki kept his book open as he stepped towards the kitchen.

Nowaki tracked his partner's movement hungrily. He thought he had seen it, that particular flash in Hiro-san's eyes when he'd first looked up from his word world.

"Mmmmm, the Toshino procedure was not as complex as we feared it would be." Nowaki struggled to bite back his hope.

In the kitchen now, Hiroki set his book on the counter. He poured hot water from their electric kettle into a waiting ceramic mug.

"Why didn't you call out? I would have come to greet you."

Hiroki struggled to decide where to focus his attention: on his returned partner, his book, or his steeping tea. He decided to combine two of these and reluctantly leave off the third for a moment.

After giving a last longing glance at his book, he turned to look at Nowaki and nodded towards his steaming mug.

"Want a cup?"

Nowaki loved Hiro-san's traditional sensibilities, but preferred drinking something cold when it was so hot. He shook his head but used the question as an invitation to step into the kitchen and closer to Hiroki.

"No, thank you, Hiro-san."

Nowaki moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of cold tea. He took a glass from the cupboard and used the automatic icemaker in the refrigerator door to fill it with crushed ice.

When he turned back around, Nowaki felt his chest constrict, realizing that in the time it had taken him to do this, Hiroki had pulled the strainer from his mug and moved back to his text.

Wanting to keep his partner's attention before he fell irretrievably back into his pages, Nowaki quickly tried to pick up their conversation prior to the offer of tea.

"Uh, I didn't call out because I didn't think you were home. Then I went to change my shirt, but it sounded like you were talking to someone in the bedroom, and I didn't want to disturb you, Hiro-san." Nowaki set his glass on the counter and opened his tea.

"Ummmm."

Nowaki exhaled in frustration at Hiroki's vague reply. One would think after twelve years and all the problems it caused, Hiroki would have known better by now than to try and converse while he was doing something else.

"So who were you talking to, Hiro-san?"

Nowaki poured his tea into his glass while simultaneously watching as the small part of the professor not yet completely immersed picked up on his questioning tone.

Hiroki looked up and over slowly. His brow creased anew seeing Nowaki's ice-filled glass on the counter.

Nowaki felt his lips pulled upwards at Hiroki's mild disapproval of his choice of drink.

"Eh?"

"You were talking to someone just before?" Nowaki reworded his question now that he knew Hiroki was paying closer attention, not wanting to seem too intrusive.

He sighed inwardly when Hiro-san turned back to his book before answering.

"Ah, yes. My father called again."

"And how is the president?"

Hiroki looked up more quickly this time and Nowaki saw the subtle flash in the man's eyes that let him know he was pressing farther than was prudent. However, the spark dimmed and once more Hiroki returned to his text.

"He's well. Although if he calls me with one more museum or dealer to visit on our trip, I'll hardly have time for my own research."

Now it was Nowaki's turn for a creased brow.

He knew that Hiro-san planned to work on his current research project while they were gone. He would have expected nothing less. He had known too that the Senior Kamijou had asked his son to make a few stops for him regarding some pieces he wanted to secure for Kamijou Corps corporate art collection.

Still, this is meant to be our time together.

Nowaki reached for his chilled glass and downed a big gulp of his tea, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He kept his hands wrapped around his drink and looked over the rim, watching Hiroki slip back into his book.

It meant a great deal to Hiro-san that the president had entrusted him with these errands. Though he didn't speak of it, Nowaki had come to understand that his partner held a cache of guilt for not going into the family business.

Doing this, securing these pieces, was a way that Hiroki could participate in the company in a manner that fit with his interests, and that allowed him to strengthen his renewed connection to his father.

Despite what I want, I can't stand in the way of these things. Not when they mean so much to Hiro-san.

At the same time, the old doubts began to churn again in the pit of Nowaki's stomach.

Or is Hiro-san accepting more tasks because he really doesn't want to be alone with me?

Nowaki took another long swallow.

Hiroki was leaning against the counter now, hands braced against its edge as he scanned the dog-eared book lying open before him.

Nowaki watched one of Hiro-san's hands leave the edge of the counter and turn over a page. This same hand then slipped up and ran through Hiro-san's thick hair before rejoining its brother.

Setting his glass down, Nowaki took a step forward.

He'd been waiting patiently, hoping that their vacation would provide a congenial environment for connection. But now, knowing that their time together might be just as scarce as it presently was, Nowaki's need had suddenly become unbearable.

I can't hold myself back any longer.

Nowaki slipped up behind Hiroki and pressed in.

Long arms wrapped around Hiroki from the back. Bending his head, Nowaki buried his nose in the damp hair at the nape of Hiroki's neck. Breathing in deeply, he could smell his partner's shampoo.

I was right: Hiro-san showered not long ago.

So promising.

"What the hell, Nowaki?" Hiroki's head shot up as he felt his partner's weight against him and his hips suddenly pressed against the counter.

Brushing his lips along the hot skin of Hiro-san's neck, Nowaki's mind was filled with images of his lover's lean frame glistening in the shower; sudded hands traveling over tight contours of muscle.

Nowaki pressed his hips further forward, grinding the front of his jeans against the thin fabric of Hiroki's boxers. Feeling the indentation between rounded cheeks, his filling cock pulsed.

Nowaki's lips lifted only enough from Hiroki's neck for the breath of his words to escape.

"Hiro-san is mine."

While this whole maneuver seemed to unfurl in slow motion for Nowaki, his embrace had in fact been an action executed within mere seconds.

Hiroki braced his hands against the edge and pushed back. "Come on, Nowaki. It's too hot!"

"I can fix that."

Nowaki's hands slipped under Hiroki's open shirt and palmed swim-sculpted pectorals.

"Fuck!"

Hiroki's drew his breath in with a gasp as Nowaki's ice-cooled hands folded over his flesh.

Nowaki felt his arousal increase as Hiroki's nipples immediately hardened beneath his hands. He moved his mouth up and his tea-cooled tongue traced an earlobe.

"I can make you warm or cold, Hiro-san. Just tell me what you want."

Hiroki pushed back again, harder this time.

"What I want, Dumb-ass, is to finish this chapter!"

One of Nowaki's large hands slipped off Hiroki's chest. He lifted his upper torso only enough for his hand to slip between them and catch the hem of Hiroki's shirt.

In a single deft move Nowaki drew the hand up and twisted.

It caught the whole of Hiroki's shirtback from collar to base. The twist pulled the shirt just off Hiroki's broad shoulders and drew his arms back, trapping them in their sleeves, making it impossible for him to push back again.

Nowaki thrust his hips forward as soon as Hiro-san was caught, re-pinning him against the counter.

His dick rejoiced at the resumed friction. It thrilled even more as Hiroki shifted, struggling against the restriction.

"Finishing the chapter wasn't one of the choices I gave you, Hiro-san." Nowaki's normally light voice was lust-heavy now.

"Idiot!" Hiroki snapped and bucked back, rebelling at the cool command in his lover's tone.

He stilled immediately however, when Nowaki's teeth took a gentle hold of his earlobe and at the same time, still-icy fingers pinched the rigid tip of his nipple.

Nowaki could feel his lover's whole body blush beneath him as the growl cocooned in Hiroki's throat suddenly hatched as a wonderfully wanton groan.

Releasing the earlobe he'd been softly worrying, Nowaki kissed down the length of Hiroki's neck. He nuzzled against it, moved down and pressed a sucking kiss to a shaky shoulder. He felt Hiro-san stiffen and then at last slump back into his chest as the tension left him.

Nowaki smiled into salty skin as he listened to Hiroki's ragged mounting breaths.

Hiro-san was his again.

So if you're interested the piano piece is real, you can find it on youtube. The vase exists too, but FF won't let me post the link.

The next chapter will be very lemony. I'll try not to make you wait so long this time. And yes "X," I lack restraint. Heh.

Thank you for all the alerts and favorites, and of course, I love your reviews.