Osiris interrupts Asher's breakfast.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Asher stands at the stove, creating a simple breakfast. A bowl of fruit sits at his elbow, eggs in a pan, when he hears the telltale sound of a transmat. He doesn’t look up, focused instead on ensuring his food doesn’t burn. He waits for Saint-14 to speak, ready to hear about the man’s day. Saint might sigh at the sight of Asher only just readying for his day, but Saint has given up his arguments against Asher’s erratic hours. He has long accepted that Asher will be dragging himself from bed by the day’s final Trials match.
Asher isn’t going to change his schedule for someone else and Saint wouldn’t ask him to.
Asher frowns as there is no thump of Saint setting his helmet on the table. Instead there are soft steps around the table, and it is most definitely not Saint-14 approaching when Asher looks back in confusion.
Beaked headdress shining and his feathered collar fluffed, Osiris comes to stand next to Asher. Osiris brings a hand up to the small of Asher’s back, looking over his shoulder to see what Asher is preparing.
“Why are you here?” Asher asks, voice flat, eyes squinted with suspicion. He wonders what it would look like to someone else, the two of them. What a sight Asher must be, slouched over a breakfast pan, wardrobe nothing but an old bathrobe. A stark contrast it must be to the intricate, legendary garb of Osiris, with his deliberate and proud stance.
“I’m here to steal your research.” Osiris says plainly as he removes his golden helm, the bird’s profile transmatting out of existence.
Asher cannot help the smile that tugs at his mouth as Osiris presses a chaste kiss to his cheek.
That chaste kiss turns into another and more, each of them traveling down along Asher’s neck. Each one turns less innocent then the last, Asher’s eyes falling half lidded at the warmth of Osiris’ mouth against his skin, the slight scratch of stubble.
“Breakfast will burn.” Asher says calmly, as if Osiris hadn’t just begun to add teeth to his kisses.
“The stove does turn off,” Osiris breaths, “I’m sure you can figure out which knob it is.”
Asher rolls his eyes, flicking the burner off just as Osiris takes hold of his hips. He turns away from the stove and lets Osiris crowd close against him. The fingertips of Osiris’ gloves are worn soft from the years, Osiris’ touch light as he trails a hand along Asher’s jaw. Asher sighs as Osiris undoes his bathrobe, spreading a hand across the left of Asher’s chest.
Osiris wraps an arm firmly around Asher as he kisses him properly. They know how to kiss each other well, Asher drawing a sharp breath from Osiris as he grabs Osiris by the shoulders to pull the other man tight against him.
There is a sweet thrill to kissing Osiris even now, even after their time together. There is still a jump in Asher’s heartbeat when Osiris nips at his neck with a practiced sharpness, just on the edge of too far.
Neither of them hear the heavy steps in the hall or notice the thump of Saint’s helmet on the table, so involved in each other they are. Osiris has Asher pressed back against the stove as he touches and caresses; Asher is equally invested, his attention on drawing soft noises from Osiris with lavish kisses.
“Osiris,” Saint says as he learns against the table, arms crossed and eyes bright, “no kisses for me as well?”
Asher peeks over Osiris’ shoulder as the other man moves his kisses from Asher’s neck to collarbone. Saint smiles at the bright flush across Asher’s cheeks and ears.
“He’s playing favorites today.” Asher tells Saint, tightening his grip on Osiris’ ass.
how does anyone choose additional tags... do you understand how silly i feel putting "kissing" as a tag?? but what else do you put!
im still deep in loving grandpa trio hours..... i do want to write scenes from earlier in the "plot"/relationship but we aren't there yet
when does this take place?? no clue! this scene exists in a safe little bubble