ToraxUruha drabbles.
Title : a week-end day
Chapters : One-shot drabble
Author : kyokyon
Genre : a ‘nothing’ drabble
Rating : PG-13 for some dirty unsaid imagination
Pairing : Tora x Uruha
Synopsis : There’s a taste of love in his coffee. Isn’t it sweet?
Word count: 320 words
Comment : don’t get fooled with the synopsis. Oh no, it’s really nothing but I’m just being too conceited and post this XD special thanks for seiichiyamagai, my lovely beta reader, and acu_saree, who draws a very unusual color on my paint of life.
It was like another usual weekend, when he didn’t have to work, as well as ‘he’ didn’t have to either. A rare weekend for both busy musicians to share time and spend the day by just staying at home from early morning (which indicates when the sun hasn’t risen yet), until God knows when.
So here he was, sitting comfortably on one cushion with both hands opening the Shonen Manga widely, reading it thoroughly, seriously. Occasionally taking the time to sip his coffee as his lips formed an astonished smile. Who would be able to make this perfectly tasting coffee for his tongue aside from ‘him’? A perfect amount of coffee blended manually using that loving, smooth hand, then hot water poured from an antique small pot he bought from a traditional market in London into his favorite cup. There’s a taste of love in his coffee. Isn’t it sweet?
The real sweetness was hiding behind the bathroom door though. He glanced fixatedly at the certain door, where the familiar scent he knew too much was bursting out and lingering over the room, to his nostrils, spreading through his poor small brain, as a cruelly growing imagination suggesting sharply what his inner mind had wanted to do.
Panting breath and the tightness in another unsaid area were the result. When was the last time he felt cold water running over their burning bodies that couldn’t even extinguish the fire they had? When was the last time he saw the door slightly cracked open like what he had in his imagination? It was cracked.
Invitingly.
He knew the blond was torturing him sweetly again, didn’t he? But who cares? What’s the point of being reasonable and cool in a situation like this? Without thinking what to do with his coffee anymore, he disappeared behind the bathroom’s door, leaving the still hot coffee accompanying a thrown carelessly manga on the table.
Chapters : One-shot drabble
Author : kyokyon
Genre : a ‘nothing’ drabble
Rating : PG-13 for some dirty unsaid imagination
Pairing : Tora x Uruha
Synopsis : There’s a taste of love in his coffee. Isn’t it sweet?
Word count: 320 words
Comment : don’t get fooled with the synopsis. Oh no, it’s really nothing but I’m just being too conceited and post this XD special thanks for seiichiyamagai, my lovely beta reader, and acu_saree, who draws a very unusual color on my paint of life.
It was like another usual weekend, when he didn’t have to work, as well as ‘he’ didn’t have to either. A rare weekend for both busy musicians to share time and spend the day by just staying at home from early morning (which indicates when the sun hasn’t risen yet), until God knows when.
So here he was, sitting comfortably on one cushion with both hands opening the Shonen Manga widely, reading it thoroughly, seriously. Occasionally taking the time to sip his coffee as his lips formed an astonished smile. Who would be able to make this perfectly tasting coffee for his tongue aside from ‘him’? A perfect amount of coffee blended manually using that loving, smooth hand, then hot water poured from an antique small pot he bought from a traditional market in London into his favorite cup. There’s a taste of love in his coffee. Isn’t it sweet?
The real sweetness was hiding behind the bathroom door though. He glanced fixatedly at the certain door, where the familiar scent he knew too much was bursting out and lingering over the room, to his nostrils, spreading through his poor small brain, as a cruelly growing imagination suggesting sharply what his inner mind had wanted to do.
Panting breath and the tightness in another unsaid area were the result. When was the last time he felt cold water running over their burning bodies that couldn’t even extinguish the fire they had? When was the last time he saw the door slightly cracked open like what he had in his imagination? It was cracked.
Invitingly.
He knew the blond was torturing him sweetly again, didn’t he? But who cares? What’s the point of being reasonable and cool in a situation like this? Without thinking what to do with his coffee anymore, he disappeared behind the bathroom’s door, leaving the still hot coffee accompanying a thrown carelessly manga on the table.