Work Text:
The knock comes like a challenge. Taiga Kagami opens his apartment door to find Aomine Daiki leaning against the frame like he owns the hallway, the world, and probably Taiga’s patience. He’s wearing a new jacket—oversized, vintage black leather, the kind of biker coat that looks like it’s survived a few bar fights and a couple of bad decisions. It hangs off his shoulders just enough to be dangerous.
Taiga forgets how to breathe. His eyes drag over the jacket, drinking in the worn texture, the way it molds to Daiki’s frame, hinting at the powerful body beneath. His gaze travels up to Daiki’s grin, and something in his expression sharpens—hungry, heated, unapologetic. It’s the kind of look that promises trouble and means it, a predator's gaze that strips away all pretense.
Daiki blinks. Then, very deliberately, he tugs the jacket closer around himself, folding one side over the other like he’s guarding a treasure. The leather groans in protest. “…You’re not stealing this one too,” he mutters, turning slightly away, creating a sliver of space between them. “I just got it.”
Taiga snorts, a low, rumbling sound from his chest. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms, a move that deliberately pulls the fabric of his own dark blue shirt tight across his chest. “Relax. I don’t steal. I borrow indefinitely.”
Daiki shoots him a look, one that’s all annoyance and underlying fondness. “That’s literally stealing.”
But Taiga isn’t looking at the jacket anymore. He’s looking at Daiki. The curve of his mouth, the way the leather creaks when he shifts, the fact that he showed up like this—like he meant to be a problem. A delicious, tempting problem.
“Change of plans,” Taiga says, his voice dropping an octave, turning silky smooth and intimate.
Daiki arches a brow, a silent question.
“What, you don’t like the place I picked?”
Taiga steps closer. The space between them vanishes. Close enough that the leather jacket brushes his chest. Close enough that Daiki can feel the heat radiating from Taiga’s body, can smell the faint, clean scent of his soap and something uniquely *him*. “Oh, I like it,” Taiga murmurs, his lips nearly brushing the shell of Daiki’s ear. “I just like you better. In here.”
There’s a beat, a charged moment of silence where the only sound is their mingled breathing. Then Daiki’s grin turns slow and sharp, like he’s just been handed a challenge he fully intends to win. He loosens his grip on the jacket, letting it fall open slightly, a deliberate invitation. “So,” he says, his voice a low purr, “Guess we're having dessert first…”
Taiga’s hand shoots out, not roughly, but with unshakeable purpose. His fingers don't just catch the collar; they curl into the tough leather, using it as an anchor to yank Daiki across the threshold.
The door shuts behind them with a soft, decisive click. The sound is a full stop on the evening they’d planned. Taiga doesn’t give him a chance to speak. He crowds Daiki against the closed door, caging him in with his body. His free hand comes up to trace the lapel of the jacket, the rough texture a stark contrast to his warm skin.
“You know,” Taiga breathes against his neck, his lips ghosting over the pulse point there, “for a guy who doesn’t want me to steal his stuff, you sure do wear it like you’re begging me to rip it off.”
Daiki shudders, a full-body tremor that has nothing to do with cold. “Maybe I like watching you try,” he retorts, his voice already thick with desire. He tries to sound cocky, but it comes out breathless.
Taiga chuckles, the vibration resonating through Daiki’s chest. His fingers abandon the collar, sliding down the front of the jacket, mapping the hard lines of Daiki’s torso through the leather. He takes his time, a slow, possessive exploration that makes Daiki’s hips jerk forward involuntarily. When Taiga’s fingers reach the waistband of his jeans, they pause, hooking into the belt loops and tugging him even closer, eliminating any remaining distance between their bodies.
“I was thinking,” Taiga murmurs, his mouth now latching onto the spot just below Daiki’s ear, sucking gently, “we could skip the part where we pretend we’re going anywhere.”
“Taiga…” It’s a warning, but it’s weak, a half-hearted protest that’s completely undermined by the way Daiki’s hands are already gripping Taiga’s hips, pulling him flush against his growing erection.
“Mm?” Taiga hums in response, his tongue tracing the shell of Daiki’s ear. “You have a better idea?”
Daiki’s answer is to crush their mouths together. It’s not a gentle kiss; it’s a clash of teeth and tongues, a desperate, hungry thing that’s been simmering since Taiga opened the door. Taiga meets him with equal intensity, one hand fisting in the front of the leather jacket while the other slides up Daiki’s back, digging into his shoulder blades through the thin shirt beneath.
They stumble away from the door, a clumsy, entangled dance toward the bedroom. Taiga manages to shrug out of his own shirt somewhere in the hallway, the discarded fabric forgotten on the floor. Daiki’s hands are everywhere, sliding across Taiga’s torso tracing the ridges of his stomach, the defined muscles of his back.
“Bed,” Taiga gasps out between kisses, breaking away just long enough to drag Daiki the rest of the way into his room. He falls back onto the mattress, pulling Daiki down with him. The weight of him, the solid reality of his body pressing Taiga into the mattress, is exactly what he wanted.
Daiki braces himself above him, his arms caging Taiga’s head. The leather jacket is still on, a dark, imposing barrier between them. Taiga’s hands go to the zipper, his fingers fumbling with the pull in his haste.
“Eager?” Daiki grins, that infuriatingly confident smirk back on his face.
“You have no idea,” Taiga growls, finally getting the zipper down. He pushes the jacket open, his hands immediately sliding over the warm skin of Daiki’s chest, mapping the familiar terrain. He thumbs a nipple, earning a sharp hiss from the man above him.
Daiki shrugs out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed with a heavy thud. It lies there, a dark pool of leather, forgotten for now. Taiga’s focus is entirely on the man before him, on the way his muscles flex as he moves, on the dark hunger in his eyes.
Taiga flips them with a sudden burst of strength, rolling until he’s straddling Daiki’s hips. He leans down, his hair brushing Daiki’s chest as he mouths a path down his sternum, his tongue tracing salty skin. Daiki’s hands tangle in his hair, guiding him, urging him lower.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Daiki grunts, his voice strained.
Taiga smirks against his skin. “So are you.”
The rest of their clothes disappear in a flurry of motion, kicked away, unceremoniously discarded. When they’re finally skin to skin, Taiga takes a moment to just look, to appreciate the sight of Daiki spread out beneath him, all hard muscle and dark skin, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. He looks like a god, and Taiga has never been one to worship, but for him, he might make an exception.
“Taiga,” Daiki says, his voice rough with need. “Stop staring and get on with it.”
Taiga’s grin is sharp and predatory. “Make me.”
Daiki doesn't have to. Taiga leans down, capturing his lips in a deep, searching kiss as he positions himself over Daiki's hot erection, sinking down slowly. The groan that tears from Daiki’s throat is pure music, a sound of surrender and pleasure that sends a thrill straight through Taiga. He sets a deliberate pace, a slow, torturous rhythm designed to drive them both to the edge.
The room fills with the sounds of their lovemaking—the slap of skin on skin, their ragged breathing, the muttered curses and praise that fall from their lips. It’s raw and intense, a perfect reflection of their relationship—competitive, passionate, and utterly consuming.
Daiki flips them again, taking control, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, driving them both toward the precipice. Taiga meets him move for move, his legs wrapping around Daiki’s waist, pulling him deeper, wanting more, needing everything.
When they finally fall over the edge, it’s together, a shared explosion of pleasure that leaves them both breathless and boneless. Daiki collapses onto Taiga’s chest, his face buried in the crook of his neck, their bodies slick with sweat.
For a long moment, the only sound is their slowing breaths. Then Taiga’s hand comes up to card through Daiki’s damp hair.
“See?” he murmurs, his voice sated and lazy. “Much better than some crowded restaurant.”
Daiki lifts his head, a lazy, satisfied grin on his face. “Yeah, yeah,” he concedes, pressing a soft kiss to Taiga’s collarbone. “But you’re buying dinner next time.”
Taiga’s eyes drift
***********
Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets and the two figures tangled within them. The air in the room was thick and warm, smelling of sex and sleep. Aomine Daiki was still dead to the world, face-down in the pillow, his body sprawled out in utter exhaustion after a night that had left very little time for actual rest.
Kagami Taiga, however, was wide awake. He moved with a practiced silence, slipping from the bed and padding across the room. His eyes fell on the dark pool of leather lying in a heap where it had been discarded last night. A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. He picked up the jacket, the heavy, cool leather a comforting weight in his hands. He shrugged it on, the oversized sleeves swallowing his hands, the hem falling to mid-thigh. The only thing he wore underneath was the faint, musky scent of Aomine and a few fading marks from the night before.
He stood before the full-length mirror on his closet door, turning slightly. The black leather was a stark, beautiful contrast against his flushed skin and wild red hair. It looked good. It looked *his*. He ran a hand down the front, feeling the supple texture, imagining how it would feel to wear it out, to carry a piece of Daiki with him.
The faint creak of leather was enough to stir the man in the bed. Aomine groaned, a low, guttural sound of protest against the morning. He cracked one eye open, the blue hazy with sleep, and the sight that met him cut through the fog like a lightning bolt.
Kagami. In *his* new jacket. And only his jacket.
The sleep vanished, replaced by a familiar, indignant surge. "Are you kidding me?" he grumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows. His voice was rough, gravelly from disuse. "I literally just bought that. You have a problem. A serious, kleptomaniac problem."
Kagami glanced at him in the mirror, a completely unrepentant smirk playing on his lips. "It's not stealing if it looks better on me."
"It looks better on me! I'm the one who paid for it!" Aomine insisted, sitting up fully now. The sheet pooled around his waist, revealing the scratches and bite marks that decorated his torso like a roadmap of their night. "And it's not just this one! What about my gray hoodie? The black one? My Tōō jersey? I swear it's like you’re only dating me for free clothes."
He was on a roll now, his morning rant gaining momentum. "You're like a black hole for outerwear. I can't bring anything nice into this apartment without you immediately trying to reel it into your ridiculous closet."
While Daiki ranted, Taiga turned from the mirror. He moved with a languid grace, crawling back onto the bed. He didn't speak, just moved, straddling Aomine's thighs and settling over his lap. The leather of the jacket shifted, whispering against Aomine's skin.
Aomine’s tirade stuttered to a halt. His hands, which had been gesturing wildly, found a new place to rest, gripping the bare, warm skin of Kagami’s thighs. His thumbs stroked the sensitive skin there, a completely involuntary, soothing motion.
“You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?” Aomine asked, his voice losing its angry edge, replaced by something softer, more resigned.
Taiga leaned forward, his hands splaying across Aomine’s chest. He traced the hard lines of his pectorals, followed the trail of dark hair down his stomach. He was listening, alright, but Aomine’s complaints were just background noise to the main event. He looked down at the man beneath him, at the way his blue eyes were already darkening with renewed interest.
"Sorry," Taiga murmured, though his tone was anything but. He leaned down, his lips hovering just above Aomine's, his voice dropping into a low, intimate purr. "You're just so sexy when you're angry baby."
Aomine's breath hitched. The direct, possessive claim in Taiga's words went straight to his gut, reigniting the embers of last night's fire into a blazing inferno. His hands, which had been stroking Taiga's thighs, tightened, gripping the firm muscle with renewed purpose.
With a low growl, Aomine's patience snapped. His grip on Taiga's thighs tightened, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he wrapped an arm around Taiga's waist and rolled them. Taiga landed on his back with a soft "oof" as Aomine settled between his spread legs, the weight of him a welcome, familiar pressure. The leather jacket, still zipped up, was now an inconvenient barrier between them.
"You're impossible," Aomine breathed against his lips before sealing his mouth over Taiga's in a deep, punishing kiss. It wasn't gentle; it was a kiss that claimed, that conquered the sweet vixen underneath him. He broke away only to attack Taiga's jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin behind his ear, peppering him with sharp, biting kisses that made Taiga gasp and laugh.
The sound of Taiga's laughter—bright and unrestrained in the quiet morning—only fueled Aomine's assault. He nipped at Taiga's collarbone, exposed by the jacket's wide collar, his hands holding Taiga's hips pinned to the mattress.
"Daiki! The jacket!" Taiga laughed, squirming beneath the onslaught, his hands fisting in Aomine's hair.
"I'll buy you a new one!" Aomine shot back, muffled against Taiga's skin. "I'll buy you ten! Just shut up."
He captured Taiga's laughing mouth again, swallowing the sound as the morning sun climbed higher, illuminating the tangled sheets and the forgotten leather jacket, which had, as predicted, mysteriously failed to make it to the restaurant, but had succeeded in making it right where it was meant to be.