Everything always seems quieter when there’s snow on the ground. Sanemi isn’t sure if that’s really the case or not - maybe all the animals who usually make background noise are hibernating somewhere, or maybe sound just travels less through snow.
Either way, there’s a thick, untouched layer of snow covering the ground outside and the sparse trees in the courtyard of the wind pillar estate that Sanemi hasn’t destroyed during training. It’s still coming down, fat flakes blanketing the landscape as the fire in the irori fights against the chill seeping in from outside. Sanemi likes to lay his bedding right down next to the hearth when it’s this cold, the sound of the fire crackling lulling him to sleep.
Unless Giyuu’s spending the night with him. Then things are much hotter… and louder, too.
They’re a little ways away from the fire and Sanemi is still sweating, Giyuu’s back hot against his chest as they move together. He’s rolling his hips into the other man nice and slow, one of Giyuu’s legs hiked up over Sanemi’s forearm so he can get deep while they’re spooning like this.
“Mmnnnn,” Giyuu moans into his mouth.
It’s a tough angle to kiss at; they’re mostly breathing each other’s air as Sanemi keeps up his slow, deep thrusts, savoring the way Giyuu clenches around his dick every time like he doesn’t want him to leave.
Sanemi doesn’t want to leave, either.
“Fuck.” He breaks the kiss to bite along the line of Giyuu’s jaw. “So good.”
Giyuu whines and pushes his hips back, greedy, like Sanemi isn’t giving it to him good enough. Sanemi sinks his teeth in savagely just below the angle of his jaw and sucks hard enough to bruise.
Giyuu pushes back again, his leg trembling in Sanemi’s hold. “More - haah, please. Sanemi-”
“More?” Sanemi goads him, nuzzling under his ear. “You need it deeper?”
“H-harder,” Giyuu stammers.
He turns his face into the bedding, but in the firelight Sanemi can still see a blush staining his skin. Fuck, he’s so cute. Sanemi hates it.
“You can, oh, you can go harder,” Giyuu mumbles into the bedding.
Sanemi grins. He’s glad Giyuu’s not looking at him, because he probably looks a little crazed. “Oh, I can, can I? Here I was tryin’ to make it all romantic and shit.”
He snaps his hips forward, the sound of their bodies meeting loud over the fire. Giyuu cries out and throws his head back, pressing into Sanemi’s hold when Sanemi does it again.
Sanemi knows what Giyuu wants, though, and he isn’t going to be able to give it to him like this. He pulls out and leans back, the air cold on his sweat-soaked chest, and ignores Giyuu’s immediate protests. “Get on your back, Tomioka.”
Giyuu complies instantly, like he was waiting for Sanemi to tell him what to do. His pale skin is almost glowing in the firelight, teeth sunk into his lower lip as his eyes rake up and down Sanemi’s body. He’s still blushing, but for a few moments it’s like he forgets to be shy.
On his knees, Sanemi moves in between Giyuu’s spread legs, reaching over to slick himself up with more oil. Giyuu’s eyes follow his movements. He watches hungrily as Sanemi jerks himself, just a few strokes to spread the oil over the length of his cock.
“Slut,” Sanemi says, fond. “You don’t want it romantic, do you? You just want it hard.”
They both know what he isn’t saying - that the way they do it sometimes, when Sanemi’s meaner and hurts him a little, is just as romantic as when they do it soft and sweet. Just as intimate, maybe even more so.
