Happy Birthday, Musashi [E21: Musashi x Hiruma]
Title: Happy Birthday, Musashi (Part 1)
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Pairing: Musashi & Hiruma
Authors:
gogochan &
gogodgene
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Slash, yaoi, B/L, foul language from Hiruma, mild apron kink, and foreplay.
Summary: Hiruma attempts to bake a cake for Musashi's birthday, with disastrous results. However, thanks to Hiruma's quick thinking, and a tub of icing, the big brunet still gets his birthday wish.
A/N: Slight AU. Set several years in the future, after Hiruma and Musashi have graduated from college and are living together as a couple. Also, Musashi's birthday is in April. We had every intention of getting this fic done in time for his b-day, but then it kept getting longer, and longer, and longer... 11,000+ steamy words later and it's finally finished! We'll be posting it in three parts; one part per week. Parts 2 and 3 will be NC-17. Enjoy~
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What the hell had he been thinking?
As far as Youichi Hiruma knew, he couldn't cook to save his life. Well, it would be a lot more fair to say he couldn't cook anything that involved a recipe. Which was what he had been trying to do for the last hour or so.
Today was Musashi's birthday. And because it was Musashi, Hiruma was going to treat the day as such (the old man's birthday was more important to him than his own). Birthdays meant presents, relaxation, and cake. But mostly cake. How the idea of actually making a cake crossed Hiruma's mind was something he'd never remember, but in hindsight, he should've just fucking bought one. The blond menace must've looked over the recipe for a simple chocolate cake a million times, and with his smarts, figured it would be easy as fuck to make it.
He had never been so wrong in his life.
Everything had gone in OK, he guessed. There was a giant mess to clean up, of course, but he figured he would've had plenty of time for that. The genius tactician had not been expecting the cake to burn so quickly or the batter to spill over the side of the pan.
Now, here he was, with every window in the place thrown open to get rid of the smoke, and an oven to clean sometime in the near future. Hiruma stared at the blackened half-batter, half-cooked cake sitting on top of the still-hot oven, wondering what the fuck he was going to do with it. The pan was totally ruined and the cake itself was a battleground of awful.
"Fucking hell..."
~~~
It was just about 5:30 in the afternoon. Musashi had gotten off work a bit early that day, on account of it being his birthday. His 23rd birthday, to be exact. The hard working brunet had been reluctant to leave. His father's health had continued to decline, and after much pushing and prodding (and threats of curses from Head Nurse Oka) the old man had agreed to officially retire--leaving the day to day operations of Takekura Construction to the more-than-capable Musashi. "Gen-chan," as he was known to the oldest and most loyal of Takekura's employees, usually worked until 6:00, if not later. As with his stubborn father, it had taken a coordinated effort of poking and cajoling to convince him to leave early.
Musashi wasn't the type to care much about birthdays, though he certainly appreciated the well wishes and gestures of kindness from his coworkers. The solemn brunet had the heart of a warrior and the devotion of a priest. All he wanted on this special day was the continued success of Takekura Construction--which would, in turn, provide for the well being of his many employees--and a quiet night at home with Hiruma. If such a thing were even possible...
Speaking of... As Musashi turned onto their block, he could clearly see their home and knew immediately that something was wrong. Something grey and hazy was filtering out of the first floor windows. Something that looked suspiciously like smoke. Hiruma!. The brawny builder hit the gas, jolting the heavy truck forward. He sped down the block, just to screech to a halt in front of the house, throat dry, heart pounding in his chest when it became evident by sight and smell that, yes, that was smoke seeping out of the windows. The bulk of it seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Had Hiruma been cooking? Doubtful. Perhaps there'd been a short, or some kind of electrical fire. Or maybe there'd been a gas leak, and Hiruma had been there, messing with one of his experimental explosives.
Oh gods...
"Hiruma!" Musashi hollered as he clambered out of the truck. The ex-kicker was still in top physical form. In a flash, powerful legs propelled him across the small yard, up the walkway, and into the house. "Hiruma! Are you here?" he called, coughing once from the thickened air. A quick glance into the living room showed Cerberus' favorite doggie bed to be empty, not that Musashi actually expected the canny pooch to just hang around in a smoky room.
"Cerberus? Hiruma?" The cool-headed brunet hurried through the house, heading straight for the kitchen. Hiruma had to be home. Who else would have opened the windows?
"Hiru-- Oh, there you are." And there he was, standing in front of the large window above the sink, fanning the smoke with a kitchen towel, and looking seriously pissed off.
Which was normal. The expression, that is. The white apron that covered the demon's slim black pants and white, skin-tight teeshirt was highly irregular. So was the mix of cloying smells that hung heavily in the air.
"Are you alright?" Musashi asked, "What happened? Did something catch on fire?"
Hiruma almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Musashi come rushing into the kitchen. Truthfully, he hadn't been expecting his broad partner for another half hour or so, wanting to at least clean things up before he got home. Or, at least get rid of the evidence. It was increasingly embarrassing that not only was Musashi here to see that he'd actually used the stove, but used the stove and failed horribly by burning the one thing he'd tried to make. If he could've at least gotten rid of the failure of a cake, he could've lied about it being an electrical fire or something.
Now he just looked retarded, he was sure.
The demonic blond sighed harshly, throwing the towel down on the sink. He was mostly pissed at himself for not being able to do one simple thing. He turned to Musashi, placing a hand on his hip, trying to not look angry at the taller man in front of him.
Fucking oven.
"Welcome back. I didn't burn the place down, so don't worry about anything. Well, I guess I burned the pan, but ya know, that's easier to replace than a home." Hiruma turned for a moment, already feeling his face heat up at the thought of revealing his atrocity. He picked up the now cold, but much heavier, metal pan, showing it to the "old man." Although the failure was bared for all eyes to see, Hiruma didn't bother to look Musashi in the eye. He knew laughter would surely follow this little screw-up. "...It's your birthday, so I tried to make you something... But, as you can see, it's just more proof that I should never step in front of a stove again." The usually-cocky trickster met the quiet man's eyes. "Happy birthday?"
Musashi was speechless. He stared incredulously at his wily blond partner, intensely relieved that there'd been no real fire, yet utterly surprised that Hiruma had attempted to cook something as complicated as a cake. Warm brown eyes traveled around the mess that was their kitchen, noting an open carton of eggs, a half-stick of butter, mixing bowls, a pile of what appeared to be flour, and a few ingredients--like gun oil--that didn't belong in a cake, let alone anywhere near an oven...
So Hiruma had tried to bake him a cake. From scratch. For his birthday. And had failed miserably. No...make that adorably. It was all so very sweet. The sharp-shooting, whip-tongued, gum-cracking former quarterback had no business cooking anything, and they both knew it. Yet Hiruma had tried. For him.
The brawny builder exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, tension leaving his sturdy shoulders as the knowledge that all was well--meaning, Hiruma was safe--sunk in. A soft smile played across full lips, warming his classically rugged features.
"Baka." Musashi shook his head, dark strands of hair dancing in front of his eyes. He brushed the thick hair off his forehead absently, his slight smile widening into a clearly amused grin. The quiet brunet was used to his partner's piercing glare. When Hiruma averted his eyes, Musashi knew the proud demon must be embarrassed. And was that a blush on his high cheekbones?
The burned cake (which may or may not have been chocolate; hard to tell at this point), the ruined pan, the utter mess...topped off by seeing his fierce and cagey lover in an apron was simply priceless. Musashi knew that Hiruma would bristle at his laughter, but he couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from deep within his massive chest.
"I appreciate the effort, Hiruma, I really do." Musashi closed the space between them, grinning when he saw Hiruma roll his eyes. He grabbed the charred cake pan, setting it down on the kitchen table with a thud. "Looks delicious," he said with a wink. Strong arms wrapped around the blond's lithe frame, enveloping the smaller man in the biggest of bear hugs. Musashi placed a wet smooch on Hiruma's frowning lips, followed by softer kisses on his nose and forehead. A glance to the side showed a small tub of pre-made frosting, lid intact.
"At least you didn't burn the frosting," the former kicker said with a wry smile. "Buttercream, huh? Mmm...my favorite."
Hiruma wasn't used to failing, at anything, especially when it came to showing off to Musashi. He guessed this was a sign or something, but a sign meaning what, he didn't know. Never, ever cook again, probably. He actually didn't find it all so funny, but that was just him being a brat. Musashi was allowed to laugh at him (not that the blond spitfire was going to enjoy it), but the man deserved to laugh at the supposed genius after putting up with his shit for years now.
The former quarterback looked to the container of icing, smiling slightly when his handsome lover mentioned it was his favorite. Of course, Hiruma already knew that, but getting something right was a good feeling after the cake mishap. The blond kissed Musashi back, mentally thanking him for not making a big deal out of this.
"Glad you like it so much. I wouldn't want it to go to waste." Not wanting to part from his partner's warm body just yet, Hiruma wriggled free from the hug enough to grab the thing of icing off the counter and pop open the lid. He looked at it as if he were analyzing something incredibly boring. "Sorry there's no cake to put it on, but I'm sure we could find something much more creative to do with it, hmm?" The demonic blond smirked to counter Musashi's smart-ass grin and put some of the creamy frosting on his finger to get a quick taste.
Musashi figured the little dip of frosting was meant for him. He even parted his lips in anticipation. At the realization that Hiruma intended it for himself, the birthday boy's mouth dropped open with surprise. A strong hand grabbed the blond's smaller one, a thick eyebrow arching as he wrapped his lips around a buttercream flavored finger. Musashi sucked hard on the sharp-nailed digit, quickly divesting it of icing. It tasted good; the sweet buttery topping mixed with the unique flavor of Hiruma's skin. The brunet's eyes narrowed in apparent pleasure. He drew the long finger deeper into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it knowingly. Mmmm... Much better than the bitter or metallic taste that sometimes lingered on Hiruma's hands after he'd been working with his guns.
The brunet's free hand began to unconsciously drift down the blond's back, descending languidly until it reached the man's ass. One pert globe received a happy squeeze, broad fingers massaging the taut muscle as Musashi extracted Hiruma's finger from his mouth ever so slowly. "I like where you're going with this," he murmured, voice deep and husky. "You're always so creative."
Hiruma grinned up at his stronger partner. "Heh, you can always rely on me to think up somethin' fun."
"You know," Musashi continued, looking his demon lover straight in the eye as he dipped his own finger into the jar of frosting. "You could've done that all along. ...Dabbed a bit of buttercream here..." A thin smear of icing appeared on the blond's wicked lips. "And there..." Musashi used his grip on that perfect little ass to bring their hips together, rubbing his groin against Hiruma's, the start of an erection clearly evident through the material of his pants. "You know...all your sweet spots. And saved yourself the trouble of trying to bake that cake."
Was it just him or was his entire face warm? After almost six years of being together, Hiruma's former teammate never failed to turn him on. Musashi knew all the right buttons to push, not to mention all the right places to lick. The demon almost purred when his lover sucked on his finger so salaciously. He wondered how the icing would taste on other parts of Musashi's body. A jolt ran up his spine when strong fingers squeezed his ass.
The green-eyed trickster blinked when Musashi smeared the icing on his lips and then rubbed against his growing erection. Hiruma seductively licked the creamy frosting from his lips, chuckling low. He was glad his lover was so gung-ho about the whole situation, especially after coming home from work and seeing the house full of smoke. Really, Hiruma could use a change of scenery right about now.
"Well, I baked that cake so you'd have some candles to blow out. Guess I'll just have to make it up to you by blowing something else. How 'bout it?"
Hiruma wasn't the only one turned on.
Musashi's eyes followed the demon's pointed pink tongue as he made a show of licking the icing from his lips. Not that the former kicker was complaining. He would have liked to kiss the cagey blond and taste that sweetness for himself, but they still had a whole jar of frosting to play with. Beyond that, Musashi loved watching Hiruma's sensual mouth and talented tongue.
To say that the artfully dodgy demon had an "oral fixation" was putting mildly. Oral fetish was more like it. Hiruma's habit of keeping his mouth busy--chewing, sucking, biting, blowing--bordered on compulsion. ...The effect of which made the blond's lips and tongue extraordinarily agile and strong.
All the better for Musashi, who responded to the sexy insinuation with a happy half-smirk.
"See?" he agreed, grinding his hips against Hiruma's. The batter-smeared cooking apron got in the way somewhat, prompting Musashi to grind that much harder. Dark eyes, as rich and strong as black coffee, bore directly into sparkling green. "I didn't need a cake or candles to make my birthday wish come true." He placed a small dab of frosting on the end of Hiruma's nose, licking it away before his fussy partner could protest. "How 'bout it, you ask?" Musashi sucked the rest of the buttercream off the end of his finger, pulling it from his mouth with an audible pop.
"Happy birthday to me!"
With that, the grinning birthday boy grabbed Hiruma around the waist and tossed him over a brawny shoulder as if the blond spitfire was no heavier than a bag of flour.
"Don't drop that frosting," Musashi said in a deep rumbling voice. He left the kitchen, heading for the stairs, eager to get them away from the smoke and closer to their bedroom.
(to be continued...)
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Pairing: Musashi & Hiruma
Authors:
gogochan &
gogodgene
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Slash, yaoi, B/L, foul language from Hiruma, mild apron kink, and foreplay.
Summary: Hiruma attempts to bake a cake for Musashi's birthday, with disastrous results. However, thanks to Hiruma's quick thinking, and a tub of icing, the big brunet still gets his birthday wish.
A/N: Slight AU. Set several years in the future, after Hiruma and Musashi have graduated from college and are living together as a couple. Also, Musashi's birthday is in April. We had every intention of getting this fic done in time for his b-day, but then it kept getting longer, and longer, and longer... 11,000+ steamy words later and it's finally finished! We'll be posting it in three parts; one part per week. Parts 2 and 3 will be NC-17. Enjoy~
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What the hell had he been thinking?
As far as Youichi Hiruma knew, he couldn't cook to save his life. Well, it would be a lot more fair to say he couldn't cook anything that involved a recipe. Which was what he had been trying to do for the last hour or so.
Today was Musashi's birthday. And because it was Musashi, Hiruma was going to treat the day as such (the old man's birthday was more important to him than his own). Birthdays meant presents, relaxation, and cake. But mostly cake. How the idea of actually making a cake crossed Hiruma's mind was something he'd never remember, but in hindsight, he should've just fucking bought one. The blond menace must've looked over the recipe for a simple chocolate cake a million times, and with his smarts, figured it would be easy as fuck to make it.
He had never been so wrong in his life.
Everything had gone in OK, he guessed. There was a giant mess to clean up, of course, but he figured he would've had plenty of time for that. The genius tactician had not been expecting the cake to burn so quickly or the batter to spill over the side of the pan.
Now, here he was, with every window in the place thrown open to get rid of the smoke, and an oven to clean sometime in the near future. Hiruma stared at the blackened half-batter, half-cooked cake sitting on top of the still-hot oven, wondering what the fuck he was going to do with it. The pan was totally ruined and the cake itself was a battleground of awful.
"Fucking hell..."
~~~
It was just about 5:30 in the afternoon. Musashi had gotten off work a bit early that day, on account of it being his birthday. His 23rd birthday, to be exact. The hard working brunet had been reluctant to leave. His father's health had continued to decline, and after much pushing and prodding (and threats of curses from Head Nurse Oka) the old man had agreed to officially retire--leaving the day to day operations of Takekura Construction to the more-than-capable Musashi. "Gen-chan," as he was known to the oldest and most loyal of Takekura's employees, usually worked until 6:00, if not later. As with his stubborn father, it had taken a coordinated effort of poking and cajoling to convince him to leave early.
Musashi wasn't the type to care much about birthdays, though he certainly appreciated the well wishes and gestures of kindness from his coworkers. The solemn brunet had the heart of a warrior and the devotion of a priest. All he wanted on this special day was the continued success of Takekura Construction--which would, in turn, provide for the well being of his many employees--and a quiet night at home with Hiruma. If such a thing were even possible...
Speaking of... As Musashi turned onto their block, he could clearly see their home and knew immediately that something was wrong. Something grey and hazy was filtering out of the first floor windows. Something that looked suspiciously like smoke. Hiruma!. The brawny builder hit the gas, jolting the heavy truck forward. He sped down the block, just to screech to a halt in front of the house, throat dry, heart pounding in his chest when it became evident by sight and smell that, yes, that was smoke seeping out of the windows. The bulk of it seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Had Hiruma been cooking? Doubtful. Perhaps there'd been a short, or some kind of electrical fire. Or maybe there'd been a gas leak, and Hiruma had been there, messing with one of his experimental explosives.
Oh gods...
"Hiruma!" Musashi hollered as he clambered out of the truck. The ex-kicker was still in top physical form. In a flash, powerful legs propelled him across the small yard, up the walkway, and into the house. "Hiruma! Are you here?" he called, coughing once from the thickened air. A quick glance into the living room showed Cerberus' favorite doggie bed to be empty, not that Musashi actually expected the canny pooch to just hang around in a smoky room.
"Cerberus? Hiruma?" The cool-headed brunet hurried through the house, heading straight for the kitchen. Hiruma had to be home. Who else would have opened the windows?
"Hiru-- Oh, there you are." And there he was, standing in front of the large window above the sink, fanning the smoke with a kitchen towel, and looking seriously pissed off.
Which was normal. The expression, that is. The white apron that covered the demon's slim black pants and white, skin-tight teeshirt was highly irregular. So was the mix of cloying smells that hung heavily in the air.
"Are you alright?" Musashi asked, "What happened? Did something catch on fire?"
Hiruma almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Musashi come rushing into the kitchen. Truthfully, he hadn't been expecting his broad partner for another half hour or so, wanting to at least clean things up before he got home. Or, at least get rid of the evidence. It was increasingly embarrassing that not only was Musashi here to see that he'd actually used the stove, but used the stove and failed horribly by burning the one thing he'd tried to make. If he could've at least gotten rid of the failure of a cake, he could've lied about it being an electrical fire or something.
Now he just looked retarded, he was sure.
The demonic blond sighed harshly, throwing the towel down on the sink. He was mostly pissed at himself for not being able to do one simple thing. He turned to Musashi, placing a hand on his hip, trying to not look angry at the taller man in front of him.
Fucking oven.
"Welcome back. I didn't burn the place down, so don't worry about anything. Well, I guess I burned the pan, but ya know, that's easier to replace than a home." Hiruma turned for a moment, already feeling his face heat up at the thought of revealing his atrocity. He picked up the now cold, but much heavier, metal pan, showing it to the "old man." Although the failure was bared for all eyes to see, Hiruma didn't bother to look Musashi in the eye. He knew laughter would surely follow this little screw-up. "...It's your birthday, so I tried to make you something... But, as you can see, it's just more proof that I should never step in front of a stove again." The usually-cocky trickster met the quiet man's eyes. "Happy birthday?"
Musashi was speechless. He stared incredulously at his wily blond partner, intensely relieved that there'd been no real fire, yet utterly surprised that Hiruma had attempted to cook something as complicated as a cake. Warm brown eyes traveled around the mess that was their kitchen, noting an open carton of eggs, a half-stick of butter, mixing bowls, a pile of what appeared to be flour, and a few ingredients--like gun oil--that didn't belong in a cake, let alone anywhere near an oven...
So Hiruma had tried to bake him a cake. From scratch. For his birthday. And had failed miserably. No...make that adorably. It was all so very sweet. The sharp-shooting, whip-tongued, gum-cracking former quarterback had no business cooking anything, and they both knew it. Yet Hiruma had tried. For him.
The brawny builder exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, tension leaving his sturdy shoulders as the knowledge that all was well--meaning, Hiruma was safe--sunk in. A soft smile played across full lips, warming his classically rugged features.
"Baka." Musashi shook his head, dark strands of hair dancing in front of his eyes. He brushed the thick hair off his forehead absently, his slight smile widening into a clearly amused grin. The quiet brunet was used to his partner's piercing glare. When Hiruma averted his eyes, Musashi knew the proud demon must be embarrassed. And was that a blush on his high cheekbones?
The burned cake (which may or may not have been chocolate; hard to tell at this point), the ruined pan, the utter mess...topped off by seeing his fierce and cagey lover in an apron was simply priceless. Musashi knew that Hiruma would bristle at his laughter, but he couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from deep within his massive chest.
"I appreciate the effort, Hiruma, I really do." Musashi closed the space between them, grinning when he saw Hiruma roll his eyes. He grabbed the charred cake pan, setting it down on the kitchen table with a thud. "Looks delicious," he said with a wink. Strong arms wrapped around the blond's lithe frame, enveloping the smaller man in the biggest of bear hugs. Musashi placed a wet smooch on Hiruma's frowning lips, followed by softer kisses on his nose and forehead. A glance to the side showed a small tub of pre-made frosting, lid intact.
"At least you didn't burn the frosting," the former kicker said with a wry smile. "Buttercream, huh? Mmm...my favorite."
Hiruma wasn't used to failing, at anything, especially when it came to showing off to Musashi. He guessed this was a sign or something, but a sign meaning what, he didn't know. Never, ever cook again, probably. He actually didn't find it all so funny, but that was just him being a brat. Musashi was allowed to laugh at him (not that the blond spitfire was going to enjoy it), but the man deserved to laugh at the supposed genius after putting up with his shit for years now.
The former quarterback looked to the container of icing, smiling slightly when his handsome lover mentioned it was his favorite. Of course, Hiruma already knew that, but getting something right was a good feeling after the cake mishap. The blond kissed Musashi back, mentally thanking him for not making a big deal out of this.
"Glad you like it so much. I wouldn't want it to go to waste." Not wanting to part from his partner's warm body just yet, Hiruma wriggled free from the hug enough to grab the thing of icing off the counter and pop open the lid. He looked at it as if he were analyzing something incredibly boring. "Sorry there's no cake to put it on, but I'm sure we could find something much more creative to do with it, hmm?" The demonic blond smirked to counter Musashi's smart-ass grin and put some of the creamy frosting on his finger to get a quick taste.
Musashi figured the little dip of frosting was meant for him. He even parted his lips in anticipation. At the realization that Hiruma intended it for himself, the birthday boy's mouth dropped open with surprise. A strong hand grabbed the blond's smaller one, a thick eyebrow arching as he wrapped his lips around a buttercream flavored finger. Musashi sucked hard on the sharp-nailed digit, quickly divesting it of icing. It tasted good; the sweet buttery topping mixed with the unique flavor of Hiruma's skin. The brunet's eyes narrowed in apparent pleasure. He drew the long finger deeper into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it knowingly. Mmmm... Much better than the bitter or metallic taste that sometimes lingered on Hiruma's hands after he'd been working with his guns.
The brunet's free hand began to unconsciously drift down the blond's back, descending languidly until it reached the man's ass. One pert globe received a happy squeeze, broad fingers massaging the taut muscle as Musashi extracted Hiruma's finger from his mouth ever so slowly. "I like where you're going with this," he murmured, voice deep and husky. "You're always so creative."
Hiruma grinned up at his stronger partner. "Heh, you can always rely on me to think up somethin' fun."
"You know," Musashi continued, looking his demon lover straight in the eye as he dipped his own finger into the jar of frosting. "You could've done that all along. ...Dabbed a bit of buttercream here..." A thin smear of icing appeared on the blond's wicked lips. "And there..." Musashi used his grip on that perfect little ass to bring their hips together, rubbing his groin against Hiruma's, the start of an erection clearly evident through the material of his pants. "You know...all your sweet spots. And saved yourself the trouble of trying to bake that cake."
Was it just him or was his entire face warm? After almost six years of being together, Hiruma's former teammate never failed to turn him on. Musashi knew all the right buttons to push, not to mention all the right places to lick. The demon almost purred when his lover sucked on his finger so salaciously. He wondered how the icing would taste on other parts of Musashi's body. A jolt ran up his spine when strong fingers squeezed his ass.
The green-eyed trickster blinked when Musashi smeared the icing on his lips and then rubbed against his growing erection. Hiruma seductively licked the creamy frosting from his lips, chuckling low. He was glad his lover was so gung-ho about the whole situation, especially after coming home from work and seeing the house full of smoke. Really, Hiruma could use a change of scenery right about now.
"Well, I baked that cake so you'd have some candles to blow out. Guess I'll just have to make it up to you by blowing something else. How 'bout it?"
Hiruma wasn't the only one turned on.
Musashi's eyes followed the demon's pointed pink tongue as he made a show of licking the icing from his lips. Not that the former kicker was complaining. He would have liked to kiss the cagey blond and taste that sweetness for himself, but they still had a whole jar of frosting to play with. Beyond that, Musashi loved watching Hiruma's sensual mouth and talented tongue.
To say that the artfully dodgy demon had an "oral fixation" was putting mildly. Oral fetish was more like it. Hiruma's habit of keeping his mouth busy--chewing, sucking, biting, blowing--bordered on compulsion. ...The effect of which made the blond's lips and tongue extraordinarily agile and strong.
All the better for Musashi, who responded to the sexy insinuation with a happy half-smirk.
"See?" he agreed, grinding his hips against Hiruma's. The batter-smeared cooking apron got in the way somewhat, prompting Musashi to grind that much harder. Dark eyes, as rich and strong as black coffee, bore directly into sparkling green. "I didn't need a cake or candles to make my birthday wish come true." He placed a small dab of frosting on the end of Hiruma's nose, licking it away before his fussy partner could protest. "How 'bout it, you ask?" Musashi sucked the rest of the buttercream off the end of his finger, pulling it from his mouth with an audible pop.
"Happy birthday to me!"
With that, the grinning birthday boy grabbed Hiruma around the waist and tossed him over a brawny shoulder as if the blond spitfire was no heavier than a bag of flour.
"Don't drop that frosting," Musashi said in a deep rumbling voice. He left the kitchen, heading for the stairs, eager to get them away from the smoke and closer to their bedroom.
(to be continued...)