Taste of Cake

Disclaimer: Don't own.

He's so much like a kid, with his pleading violet eyes and the way his hands hold out the cake like an offering, although the hands are so large, fingers so long and tapered-perhaps, no definitely, it's not fair to think of him as a kid and to treat him as such, or in the very least it's hypocritical for Himuro to do that. After all, he's the one who's always trying to get other peiple to just tell him stuff like it is and not coat it in sucralose lies. Both of them (after all, there's only about a year between them in age) are in a state of being half-grown, as Himuro holds his childish ideals close and strives for the impossible, knowing all too well what his own limits are yet still daring to hope to go beyond them someday. Atsushi has yet to fully explore his limits, is still scared of where they might be (though he is perhaps wise to be in awe of them, because Himuro is sure he hasn't seen him come close to those limits and Atsushi's done some incredible things). But still, it's very child-like to make something you like as a gift for someone else, even though you know them and their likes and dislikes well. On the other hand, it's a homemade cake, and while Himuro isn't the biggest fan of cakes he will always eat Atsushi's cooking. So perhaps it's not childlike after all, because Atsushi just might know how much Himuro treasures anything he makes, whether it's a doodle on a spare bit of lined paper or an origami swan made out of an old receipt or a thin braid in Himuro's hair, receiving something made by these large (and surprisingly deft for their size) hands Himuro can't help but love.

And this cake looks nothing short of delicious. It's covered in a creamy frosting, spread very evenly, with light blue sprinkles on top and it smells great. Himuro pats the spot next to him on his bed, and Atsushi walks over and puts the cake in Himuro's lap. There's no fork, so Himuro turns his face and tilts his head. Atsushi shakes his head, locks of purple hair falling in front of his face. He doesn't seem inclined to feed Himuro the cake, either, so Himuro pinches off a small piece. It's red velvet, his favourite kind (if he had to choose). He pops it in his mouth, places the piece on his tongue and sucks off the icing from his fingers.

Atushi is mesmerized. Himuro can't help but smile. That's so like him, to go through all of the trouble of making a cake just so he could watch Himuro eat a bite—because he's definitely about to eat some himself, and he does, hesitantly reaching a finger out (because it is, after all, at least nominally Himuro's cake) and waiting for Himuro's small nod before he takes a (substantially larger) piece himself. He chews without thought, but he's always been able to cook for himself and knows his own recipes. Himuro's never had his red velvet cake before, but it's lovely and rich and blends perfectly with the frosting and the hard sugar of the sprinkles, not so sweet it makes his teeth and tongue ache and no one flavor overpowering the rest. Atsushi's reaching for another bite, but such a good cake shouldn't be eaten so carelessly. Himuro leans up and kisses his neck, and Atsushi's hands drop down limply in surprise. Himuro bites him lightly, drawing a yelp and withdrawing, quickly moving the cake off of his lap and onto the table.

"Does Muro-chin like my cake?" He's actually a bit anxious. For some reason, Himuro finds him even cuter when he's anxious. He knows he shouldn't tease a guy who won't really get it, but he won't really hold it against him, either, will he?

He waits a second before answering. "Yes," he says, gazing deep into those questioning violet eyes.

And then again, he leans up, and Atsushi is ready this time and meets his lips with Himuro's. Himuro licks the frosting from Atsushi's lips and tasting the cake on his tongue, mixed in with the familiar taste of strawberry pocky. Atsushi's pulling him halfway onto his lap, and Himuro lets him up to the point where it's kind of getting uncomfortable the way they're craning their necks (goddamn height difference). Atsushi breaks the kiss, breathing hard and face already flushed. He's got a low threshold for everything—hunger, pain, irritation, as well as pleasure.

"It tastes better when I taste it on you," Himuro says calmly, and Atsushi's blushing an even darker red and can barely look at him. He's totally undone already.

Himuro clasps one of those large but delicate hands inside both of his own. "I'm sorry for teasing you so much."

Atsushi doesn't reply with words. He smiles shyly and hugs Himuro tightly to him, pressing his face into Himuro's shoulder. For a while, they just stay in this position. It's very comfortable, especially for Himuro, surrounded by the warmth of Atsushi's body. But they're both restless and active, and Atsushi soon starts licking and biting Himur's shoulder and trying to push aside his shirt to get at more of the pale, muscled skin that gleams like polished silverware under the fluorescent lights. His hands are rubbing Himuro's stomach and undoing the buttons on his shirt, clawing at the skin there, too. He is always so very hungry for something, and just touching Himuro is clearly making him hard and even without looking Himuro can see the wantonness in his eyes, and knows that his are surely being clouded over with want (despite his best efforts to exude coolness and unflappability at all times, in this situation he just can't) and Atsushi's had enough and tears Himuro's shirt off and the buttons go flying, as always. Not that Himuro can blame him, because he's impatient, too.

So this time, like all the other times, is quick and messy, even though Himuro promises himself every time that next time he'll take it slow. Somehow, he always breaks this promise but funnily enough he doesn't really regret it. After all, he's lying in Atsushi's arms and he's still got about ninety percent of this cake left for later. Maybe later, he and Atsushi can…no, he can't really think about that right now, because right now all that matters is that helps warm and Atsushi's heartbeat is next to his ear and Atsushi's arms are around his waist and the rhythm of Atushi's breathing is lulling him off to sleep.