Domestic taakitz

"Livin' with a chef is starting to show on you." Taako comments one fire-lit night, snuggled up together on a couch made for two. It's cold out, which Kravitz doesn't feel, but his lover is a warm, soft weight on his lap, and he could probably catalogue every inch of that presence. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were doing it on purpose."

Kravitz smiles in time with the crackling hearth. "Doing what on purpose, hm?"

Taako rests a palm flat on the little pocket of stomach weight spilling over the elastic of his pyjama pants. "Don't try to play keep-aways with ol' Taako, you know I'll win."

The palm shifts, adjusts to thin nails dragging across Kravitz's nightshirt. Hovering sweetly at his waist until he digs at him with an attempted tickle. "Besides. You look good. I'm… /into/ the whole… comfortable, well-fed, /domestic/ kinda…"

He gesticulates with his free hand until Kravitz finds it with his own, lacing their fingers in the air. Admiring the amber glow the fireplace brings to their outline. "…kinda, in-love sort of look?" Kravitz finishes for him.

Taako's gaze drops to their joined hands, traces between their bodies. Up to Kravitz's ears where he's taken all his jewellery out for the night, one by one. The fire sings several staccato beats before he says, "If I asked you to come to bed with me, would you, or are you too full?"

Kravitz blinks slow. Acknowledges the cautious press in his gut, the tired drag in his limbs. Breathes a slow breath into the corner of Taako's throat, soft notes of rosemary and wine. /Full/ doesn't seem enough for what he is.

"Darling, yes to both."


--

When Taako takes him in his mouth, they both burn. Taako with his kiss-warmed tongue, and Kravitz from the thrill of it, a frostbite sensation like being shocked from sleep.

Lithe hands push Kravitz's nightshirt up, push into his hipbones so his ass dents the mattress, push and lave over the folds of skin and fat as they appear with each movement. Kravitz lets himself be taken, a small boat led by gentle waves, just a hand in soft hair to anchor him.

"Fuck," Taako breathes when he pauses and pulls off, "you're too much."

/Too much, too full/. Greedy. Never before a vice Kravitz would admit to having, but he sees it now, in this life they're feeling out together. Burns with it, when Taako kisses bruises into his thigh.

"thought I was done with wanting…" Kravitz mumbles to himself, aloud without meaning to. For a second he can almost convince himself that Taako's quirked brow is a sign he didn't hear, but then he's sucking at him again, thumb and forefinger pinching the soft under his bellybutton. Determined and on fire - setting fires, /burning/ - with each stroke and breath.

Kravitz feels his toes curl and his knees bow and his thighs clench, and he comes with a moan rising molten from below his gut. Taako swallows him eagerly until Kravitz has to guide his lips away with a palm cradling his jaw.

He watches him as he rises from between his spread legs. Listens to the cracks of his joints, and balks when Taako licks his lips and fingers clean obscenely.

Taako catches his gaze, and his eyes crinkle at the corners in response to Kravitz's own widened ones.

"Can't help myself, sugar." He shuffles until he's straddling Kravitz's belly, the heat of him evident and tempting even though he's supporting his own weight.

And then, softer, "Reckon I could get you hard again?"

It takes effort for his trembling arms, but Kravitz plants his hands firm on Taako's wide hips and eases him down, a comfortable, hot weight between his navel and pubic mound. Taako's gaze is already on the slight jiggle of Kravitz's midsection, warm and wide and hungry.

Too full, too much. Greedy. And not at all alone in wanting.