Bringing some Free into the house

---

Sousuke is just fucking done with today. Passing the threshold of the apartment, he feels a weight lift as the savory smell of something meaty and sauced hits his nose; Makoto is such a good cook. Those classes he took were paying off, in more ways than one. He got to do his dream job of being a personal chef and Sousuke was blessed by the fruits, vegetables, and overall prime ingredient choice labors; maybe life wasn’t so bad.

“Welcome hom–ugh, why do you smell… like that?” Makoto skids to a halt, his arms still stretched wide and it would be comical if not for the fact Sousuke very much wants his hug but very much will not taint Makoto with this putrid odor.

Sousuke grimaces, pulling off his jacket and balling it up; “There was… an incident at work tonight. Someone couldn’t hold their liquor so they decided to upchuck it on me.” He toes off his shoes and hangs up his keys. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower and then we can eat, smells amazing by the way.” He doesn’t miss and thoroughly enjoys the blush that erupts across Makoto’s cheeks.

“Thanks, I tried a few new ingredients, I hope you like it,” Makoto admits, eyes averting to the wall. He looks so cute with that blush and the apron.

Sousuke reaches up a hand to tilt his face back to his but then he remembers he smells terrible . “Go on,” he says instead, “get back to it, I’ll be quick, promise.”

Makoto nods and hurries back to his domain, Sousuke checking out that fine ass as he goes. Shaking his head, he hurries to the on suite bathroom, tears off his clothes and shoves them in the hamper. He turns on the taps, scrubbing off the stench as the hot water eases some of the tension from his tight muscles but he still considers asking Makoto for a massage tonight, though he supposes he really should give one considering the lovely meal that’s been prepared for him.

He doesn’t want to but he really should do the laundry tonight because there’s no way he’s losing a pair of his favorite jeans because some idiot decided to over indulge; plus they were fucking expensive! His eyelids flicker–down, up, down, up–and he knows if he doesn’t get out now hewill fall asleep standing up; or worse collapse and then he’ll have a panicked Makoto on his hands and no dinner in his stomach. He turns off the water and steps out, drying himself as he walks into the bedroom to grab his most comfortable black sweatpants and the butter soft t-shirt with the tribal design Makoto gave him for his last birthday. It’s the most comfortable shirt he’s ever worn and he rues the day he has to say goodbye to it.

Stepping into the hall, he’s assaulted anew by the scent of Makoto’s creation. It blooms hunger in his stomach and warmth in his heart. Reaching the kitchen, he leans against its threshold, watching as Makoto scurries around. Ok, maybe scurries isn’t the best term for someone of Makoto’s size but he’s adorable in his earnestness and Sousuke is one inch taller than him, so yes–he watches Makoto scurry around the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are,” Makoto says smiling (god Sousuke loves that smile), “I was just about to serve it up.”

“By all means,” Sousuke says, pushing away from his perch and taking a seat at the table. Makoto brings over a bowl filled to almost the brim with what looks like some sort of stew, setting it down in front of Sousuke. Before he can turn away, he grabs his hand and kisses it; “Thanks for the meal.” Makoto’s cheeks erupt in pink and Sousuke grins.

“You… you’re welcome,” Makoto says, drawing back as his hand is released. It amuses Sousuke that he can still fluster the man after so much time together.

Makoto takes his place opposite him, giving his own thanks for the food and then digs in.

“Holy crap this is amazing, Makoto. What’s in it?” Sousuke asks between bites, barely willing to stop shoveling food in his mouth to ask the question.

“Really? I’m so glad you like it. It’s lamb with parsnips and beets. I wanted something different from a traditional stew.”

Sousuke nods as he listens, taking a bite of the pillow soft roll accompanying his meal and groans in pleasure; “Thank god I have to be fit for a living, otherwise you’d turn me into a marshmallow man.”

“Speaking of work, did you want to talk about what happened?”

Sousuke shrugs, taking another bite of food before replying, “Pretty much told you the whole thing when I walked in. Stupid drunk guy, he looked half dead. We were debating calling an ambulance but his friends rushed him away after he puked on me. I probably looked like I was going to kill him.”

Makoto chuckles, “You do have that effect on people.”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to agree with that,” Sousuke complains.

“It’s part of your charm, Sou.”

Now it’s his turn to blush. Sousuke coughs, reaches for his glass of water and chugs it down. “That… was delicious. Seriously, it’s a keeper,” he says, standing from the table and gathering their dirty dishes.

“I can do that–”

“You cooked, I clean, that’s the rule, now scoot, go relax” Sousuke insists, giving Makoto a slap on the butt earning a squawk of indignation. He grins, turning his attention back to the task at hand. Truth be told, he doesn’t mind doing mundane chores, it helps soothe him in some odd way, makes him feel useful in a different capacity. He puts away the leftovers, washes the pot and puts everything away, giving the counter a proper scrub down before washing his hands and adding lotion to keep them from drying out, a trick he learned from Rin during their days rooming together in school. He smiles at the pictures flashing in his mind, reminding him he really should call the red head; it’s been a while since they last talked.

Entering the living room he’s surprised not to find Makoto, assuming he would either be watching TV or reading a book while he waited for Sousuke to finish the dishes. “Mako?” he calls.

Makoto enters from the hall and fidgets under Sosuke’s inquisitive gaze; “I didn’t want your clothes to get stained,” he says.

Ah, he snuck in to start the laundry. “You little brat,” Sousuke mumbles, falling onto the couch and laying his head back against the cushions. It would be prudent to get to bed, try to get some decent sleep but he’s reasonably sure that won’t happen given the ache in his muscles. How people can presume his job to be glamorous, he’ll never understand. If anything, it’s downright embarrassing, having to manhandle drunk men and women alike either to break up fights or save them from toppling over a balcony. He can’t wait to hear back about the private security job, hoping desperately they take him on; it would mean getting out of that nightclub and into somewhat regular hours.

He rolls his head, groaning at the pinch in his neck and isn’t surprised when Makoto’s hands take hold of his shoulders, gently guiding him forward to grant access to his neck and back. Thumbs press into the knots in his cervical and he groans louder; it fucking hurts.

“Sorry,” Makoto whispers against his hair.

Sousuke pats the top of his hand; “Don’t worry, I appreciate it.”

There’s a hum of understanding from behind and Sousuke works to keep his noises to a minimum; he doesn’t want Makoto to feel bad. Makoto keeps massaging, working his way out and down until the angle becomes too steep for him to get a proper push on the muscles. “I think that’s good for tonight, don’t want to do any damage,” he says, moving around from the back to the front of the couch.

Sousuke leans back again, nodding with his eyes closed. He gives a tentative roll of one shoulder then the other, moves his neck from side to side. There’s definitely still tension but Makoto did an amazing job as usual. The addition of weight and warmth draws him out of his self-inspection and he opens his eyes to find Makoto’s face hovering above his own but they close once more as his lips are covered in a kiss. Moving his arms from the back of the couch, he wraps them around Makoto’s waist, pulling him more flush against him, hungry for more contact and increases the pressure of the kiss, nibbling at Makoto’s bottom lips like he knows he likes.

It does the trick, Makoto positively melts into him, the weight of his firm, hot body a welcome one against Sousuke’s. He lets loose a groan when Makoto cards his fingers through his damp hair, pulling away to suck in a breath before he trails his lips on the male above him’s throat, relishing in the little sigh Makoto lets out.

He’s glad for the loose sweats, his cock already fully hard. Were it not for puke boy at the end of his night, he’d probably have attacked Makoto at the door, fucking him hard and fast against the wall, so pent up was he from watching people writhing and grinding against each other all night, his mind wandering to how it felt like dancing with Makoto like that. He really should take him out again, get dressed up and paint the town. It’s a thought he’s had more than once but he always ends up–selfishly he’ll admit–preferring to stay in when the week is done.

Makoto leans down, teases the flesh of Sosuke’s ear with his teeth making him buck up, allowing him to feel just how hard Makoto’s gotten as well. He moves to stand, expecting Makoto to shift his weight around his waist so he can carry him to bed but he holds fast, pressing Sousuke back down.

Sousuke blinks his eyes open, lays one hand gently on the side of Makoto’s face. “Something wrong?”

Makoto shakes his head vigorously, nuzzles into the hold. “I… I just want…

“You want… what?”

Makoto doesn’t speak, merely climbs off Sousuke’s lap who bemoans the loss of contact but is saved from further concern when Makoto kneels in front on him, wrapping his fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants. Sousuke still isn’t quite sure what he wants other than for him to remain on the couch so he lifts his hips, allows Makoto to pull off his pants freeing his still half hard cock and sighs at the pressure release, glad for the cool air against his overheated skin. But one look in Makoto’s eye has him reasonably sure things are about to heat up again.

Makoto doesn’t move to take off his clothes or Sousuke’s shirt, just stays on his knees, looking at cock, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. He glances up through those ridiculously long lashes and gives a smile so coy, that–should Sousuke not know him better–he would think Makoto is teasing him.

Sousuke sucks in a breath as Makoto leans forward, sticking out his tongue to trace a line from his hip joint all the way to the tip of his cock, swirling around the head and the back down the other side. He nuzzles his nose against his balls, placing light kisses all over each sending Sosuke’s pulse into the stratosphere. Makoto opens his mouth, sucking in one ball, rolling it around on his tongue as his hand rubs up and down the opposite thigh. Finally, he shifts up, pressing a kiss to the head of his dick before engulfing it with his lips and slowly–achingly slow–takes Sousuke inch by inch into his mouth.

Sousuke bites his lip, relishing the heat of Makoto’s mouth. His hand reaches forward, grabs a fistful of hair but before he can thrust up, Makoto pops off, shaking his grip free; “Not that tonight. I’d like things… soft.”

Sosuke inclines to apologize but he knows if he does Makoto will feel bad, like he’s done something wrong. Truth be told, he loves Makoto like this. Loves the tenderness in his beautiful green eyes. Loves his large hands, seemingly built for toughness but give such a gentle touch that it melted even his hard heart.

He loves Makoto’s cooking, how he can’t help himself when it comes to cleaning, to sacrificing his own comfort to make this house a home for Sousuke to come back to, all despite his own grueling schedule.

He loves Makoto.

How long has it been since he told him that?

“Ok, Mako, whatever you want. I’m yours to do with as you please,” Sousuke says, keeping his voice as soft as possible.

Makoto flushes again but nods determinedly, adjusts back to his previous position and takes Sousuke’s cock–softened but still aching–wholly into his mouth. Sosuke’s large, so going in soft is a welcome surprise as it isn’t often that Makoto can take him to the hilt.

“Ah, fuck,” Sousuke whispers, working hard to keep himself pliant, to not usurp Makoto’s wishes with his own desire to positively fuck his face. He can do that tomorrow, he supposes.

Makoto hums, the vibrations shooting straight to Sousuke’s spine making him twitch. Makoto’s hands–large, strong, but soft–land on his hips, holding him in place as his head slowly bobs up and down, his lips caressing his cock, his tongue wetting him more with each pass. He’s not able to take him quite as deep but it still feels fucking amazing.

Sousuke’s head lulls back, his hand reaching out again but this time he merely cards his fingertips through Makoto’s hair, enjoying the softness of it. Makoto makes no noise of complaint so he does it again, allows himself more of a handful but he never grips and he never tugs, just plays with his hair as Makoto sucks him.

Sousuke grunts, takes in a long breath; “Mako… babe… fuck that feels so good.”

He feels his balls cupped, massaged as Makoto unsheathes Sousuke’s cock from his mouth only to lick it, flicking the tip of his tongue against the head and slit, each pass making Sousuke’s hips twitch and his ass muscles clench.

“I love your cock, Sou,” Makoto says through a sigh. He rubs his cheek against the side of it, his eyes closed and a smile on his red, plumped lips; “It’s so big, so thick and hot.” He wraps one hand around the base, sucks the tip in his mouth, rolling his tongue along the head.

“Fuck… fuck!” Sousuke can’t think of anything else to say, words garbling in his throat until all he can do is voice the one thing he wants to do, so,so badly. He looks down again, meets his eyes to Makoto’s, surprised and pleased by the fire burning bright in his dark green iris.

“You make me feel so good with this, it’s the perfect cock for me. The perfect size, the perfect length.” He licks from base to tip again, never breaking eye contact; “The perfect taste.”

“I… Mako… please…”

Makoto nods, gives a squeeze to the base and sucks down the upper half, his mouth and hand working in tandem. Sousuke can’t stand it, bucking up again. Makoto gives him a look and he stills, mouths an apology and tilts his head back, trying to stay still, trying to let Makoto finish this his way. He sucks him down as far as he can and Sousuke can feel his tip grazing the back of Makoto’s throat; that alone is enough.

“Fuck, Mako, I’m gonna cum, shit, I’m gonna… oh, baby!” He erupts into Makoto’s throat. He can hear him splutter, choking a bit but he doesn’t pull away, just takes it, allows Sousuke to empty himself completely. Finally, he collapses, panting heavily and Makoto lets him go, swallowing before drawing a deep, long breath.

Sousuke comes back down to earth, rolls his head to the side;  “I think we found a solution for my tight muscles, they’re like jelly.”

Makoto chuckles, the happy sound warming Sousuke all over again. He manages to crook a finger, gets Makoto back on his lap. His hands seek his hair again, fingers weaving through olive brown, and he pulls him gently down. Lips against lips, he whispers, “I love you, Tachibana Makoto.”

Makoto smiles, bright and wide and open and it’s so beautiful Sousuke thinks he just might cry; then again he’s riding high on endorphins. The kiss he receives says it all. I love you too.