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Wakatoshi’s kisses are soft. His lips leave a line of featherlike touches up from Kei’s wrist, to his arm and shoulder, lingering there for a while. He inhales, deeply, drinking in the scent of his partner.
Kei wonders, thoughts hazy, if Wakatoshi gets drunk on his scent as much as he does from the kisses peppered across his skin. He folds his arm, trapping Wakatoshi’s head in a cage without power, laying it in the crook of his neck, pressing a long peck over the crown of his head.
“Come to bed,” Wakatoshi murmurs against his skin, and Kei’s free hand jerks over his laptop’s keyboard.
“I have to finish this assignment first,” he replies.
“Hn,” Wakatoshi mouths the sensitive skin of Kei’s collarbone. “Hurry up.”
“I could,” Kei replies, fingers drawing circles in Wakatoshi’s hair. “If not for these distractions.”
“Distractions?” Wakatoshi says. Kei can feel his smile against his skin. “What distractions?”
Wakatoshi can be dense sometimes, but he is fully aware of his effect on Kei. And he teases Kei now, acting clueless all the while his tongue licks up Kei’s neck and his teeth graze Kei’s ear lobe playfully.
“Right.” There’s nothing more Kei wants than to lean back into his partner’s chest and feel his strong around him, pulling him into an embrace. But he has an assignment due in an hour. He has classes he should not fail. “This is no distraction. It’s torture,” he states.
“Do you not like it?” Wakatoshi asks, stopping his ministrations.
Kei’s breath shudders in a way that it sounds less like a sigh and more like a moan. “For fuck’s sake,” he cusses, earning a disproving grunt from Wakatoshi. “I need to submit this thing by midnight,” he continues, fingers trailing down Wakatoshi’s head, reaching behind his ears, dragging his nails down Wakatoshi’s nape without any real power.
“You’re exhausted,” Wakatoshi says.
“I’m a university student.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah,” Kei laughs, letting Wakatoshi go. “But you’re also an Olympic athlete. I’m a mere human. Expectations are different.”
Wakatoshi stays thankfully silent, even if he doesn’t move a millimeter, and his breath washing over Kei’s naked back is tantalizing.
“I want it, you know,” Kei continues, feeling benevolent enough to be honest with the both of them. “If I could throw this paper out the window and make love with you all night with no repercussions, believe me I would’ve dragged you back to the bedroom half an hour ago. But my grade depends on this stupid thing, and I have to finish it in… roughly fifty minutes,” he glances the time in the corner of his laptop screen.
“What about making up an excuse?” Wakatoshi suggests uncharacteristically.
“Are you that horny?” Kei snorts. He finds it endearing. But not convincing enough to fail a subject.
Wakatoshi huffs a short breath. If Kei didn’t know better, he would think Wakatoshi’s pouting.
“Fifty minutes, you say?”
“Hn,” Kei replies, earning a kiss on the top of his head.
“Alright,” Wakatoshi rises from behind him, walking in the direction of the kitchen. “Will a coffee help?”
Kei turns his head. He can’t help but admire the long legs, the toned body, the ridiculously attentive expression. He wonders if he told his high school self that he’s head over heels in love with the Ushijima Wakatoshi now, would he believe it?
It would certainly earn a doubtful snort. At least.
“Kei?” Wakatoshi asks again.
“Ah. Yes. Thanks. Iced, please.”
Wakatoshi nods earnestly.
He returns from the kitchen a few minutes later, places a great-smelling mug in front of Kei, presses a kiss against his temple.
Kei wonders if university worth all the trouble.
Then, Wakatoshi murmurs a few words into Kei’s ear in his deep, rumbling voice. Like thunder in the hollow halls of an ancient palace, it resonates through Kei.
With renewed motivation, Kei cracks his fingers and jumps back into writing.