#feels like i'm tagging lemon too liberally now

[shih-coulda-had-it]

# 27 from the 200 lemon dialogue ❤️ sorahiko and sakumo

27. "Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me." | shimurastorino, with a focus on sorahiko/husbando shimura| wc: 725

a/n: established OT3, but Nana and Sakumo are engaged to be married.

//

This year, the N.H.A. had the novel idea to dedicate two nights to honoring their employees. Last week had been for the solo pro-heroes, which Nana had attended as Sakumo’s plus-one. Tonight is for the pro-heroes who are registered partners or teams, which means that Sakumo is now her plus-one, as Sorahiko can’t dodge the invite.

It’s probably one of the noisiest holiday gala Sorahiko’s attended in recent years.

Sorahiko doesn’t know who handled the invites, because it sounds like every pro-hero and their squad of interns is crashing the party. Cheap complimentary beer and wine and some concoction of a punch being passed around—it’s a recipe for mayhem, especially with the hired orchestra switching out to a DJ playing exclusive club music. No one notices Sorahiko and Sakumo fleeing for quieter pastures.

Like this bathroom.

“You’re not needed elsewhere?” Sakumo asks, as Sorahiko kicks the door shut behind them. Almost immediately, the party is muffled and the only real distinct noise Sorahiko hears is Sakumo’s frazzled breathing.

He turns the lock and turns on his heel, instinct telling him to take in his surroundings. “Nana can handle a potential riot. You looked like you were on the brink of a sensory overload.”

The bathroom is large enough for maybe four individual stalls, but it only houses one toilet and sink. The wallpaper is a touch old-fashioned, but the tiles and grout are clean, and the countertop isn’t even stained with the remnants of antibacterial soap. It’s pretty nice.

Sakumo stands at the center, tugging at his bowtie. Beads of sweat sit at his temple, wisps of hair stick flat to his forehead.

“I wasn’t expecting the crowd.”

“I don’t think the hosts were either,” Sorahiko says drily, and picks at his cufflinks for lack of anything else to fiddle with. “You alright, though? I saw Nana on our way out.”

She’d seen him dragging her fiancé by the hand, navigating the cliques by cold-shouldering anyone too slow to jump away. Sorahiko gestured once to the wilting, sweating, shallow-breathing figure he towed alongside him, then to the nearest bathroom. 

A quick hand-sign: Be there soon. And he flashed an acknowledgment before continuing to haul Sakumo out of the swarming young adults determined to make the best of a paid holiday.

“Anything she trusts you to handle, I do too,” says Sakumo.

“... So there’s something bothering you.”

“Not so alarming as that.” The toothy, rueful smile reminds him of Nana, though there’s a notable fanged edge to Sakumo’s mouth in comparison.

“What, can you still hear the music? Or did somebody mess with your drink?”

Sakumo lets out a laugh. “No, no, it’s, ah… You’re not wearing a tie, Sorahiko. Between Nana’s dress and your unbuttoned shirt, it’s hard to tell who I’m drooling over more.”

He processes, then concludes: Sakumo wrenched his adrenaline-fueled panic into horny mode.

Nana’s strapless gown is midnight-blue and as glittery as a night sky; it hugs her breasts and cinches at the waist and falls straight down to her ankles. There’s a slit at the front of the skirt, off-centered, high enough that Nana can comfortably kick any offenders in the gut. It is also much more sexy than Sorahiko’s standard tuxedo.

“You’re too kind,” says Sorahiko, rolling his eyes. Then an idea strikes like a match. “I’m not showing nearly enough skin to match her. Could probably fix that, though.”

Sakumo’s eyes gleam under the cold blue fluorescent lighting. He licks his lips. “Need some help?”

“Nah,” he says, and rolls his neck. He shrugs off his blazer in slow, relaxed movements, folds it in half and tosses it over to the sink. Then Sorahiko undoes and pockets his cufflinks. He takes a step back so he can lean against the door. With his hands down by his lap, he splays his fingers over his building arousal, exhales.

Instead of unzipping his trousers, though, he switches tracks and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

He hears the abrupt step forward first, and then feels Sakumo rushing up against him, hands going to pin Sorahiko’s by his head and tongue going for Sorahiko’s parted lips. Sakumo kisses like he’s starving for affection. Sorahiko tastes white wine and lets himself moan, rolling his hips against Sakumo’s. 

Breathless, Sakumo rumbles, “Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

#bnha #shimurastorino #stand-in name for husbando shimura #gran torino #torino sorahiko #lemon #shih.txt #asks #anon #d-december #feels like i'm tagging lemon too liberally now #with more time this would actually earn that m rating!!! #but we're on a time limit today and now i have to go run errands