FicWad

Takaba comes home late, cold and shivering, not to mention soaked through to his underwear.

His socks are heavy and dripping water. Takaba takes a perverse sort of pleasure in dragging his wet feet all over Asami nice wooden floor, and even smiles at the squishy sounds his feet make.

He can smell food and hear the shower running, which explains where Asami might be. Takaba sets his bag and camera down on his small work table and heads on to the kitchen, his stomach growling shamelessly at the prospect of food.

He loiters about the kitchen poking at the pots and pans and making more squishy noises with his socks, waiting impatiently for Asami to get out.

Three minutes later, Takaba realises that his soaked clothes aren't helping him warm up. Cursing, he strips, but keeps his pants and socks on, out of a sense of self preservation.

Another few minutes, and Takaba decides he can't stand not being able to feel his toes any longer, and marches into the bathroom.

"Oi! Asami, how long are you..."

His words disappear, fading into the thick steam around him, while Takaba stands frozen, mouth hanging open in surprise.

Asami is standing under the spray; head tilted slightly downwards, eyes closed and body relaxed. He looks beautiful like this, his hair plastered against his face and neck, droplets of water curving around perfectly formed muscles and for an unwitting moment, Takaba thinks that he might have actually fallen in love with the man.

Then Asami's eyes snap open, sharp and predatory, and the moment fades, but not before imprinting itself permanently into Takaba's memory.

"I'll be out in a moment."

"Like hell you will." Takaba snaps, though his voice breaks on the words. Luckily his mind is working just fine, and thinking 'not if I can help it'. Takaba strips out of his cloths; jeans, briefs and squishy socks then steps quickly into the stall with Asami.

"You're cold." The older man notes, tilting his head to nuzzle Takaba's neck, "What were you doing?"

"Chasing after friends of yours." Takaba retorts while rubbing himself rather conspicuously against Asami. "And you made me wait for the shower."

He can feel Asami's lips curl against his neck as surly as he feels the hands sliding down to grope his arse.

"You didn't have to wait."

He's pressed against the wall and kissed, there's a minor struggle with the conditioner somewhere along the line, but Asami handles it quickly and in no time Takaba finds himself slammed into the tiled wall again and again- oddly satisfying - moaning and panting until he comes, a hot white mess against the floor, to be quickly washed away by the spray.

Asami helps Takaba wash his hair and even to dry it. Warm from the shower and mellowed by the sex, Takaba accepts his ministrations without protest.

"You did it on purpose."

"What?"

"Water. On the floor."

"Well I wasn't going to strip at the door?"

"Really?" Asami asks, eyes twinkling wickedly with promise, "Maybe next time..."