54Thank you very much to everyone who's read, followed, favorite'd, and especially reviewed my first fic, Dinner at Takano's. As promised, here is the first chapter of this 3-chapter sequel. I hope you all like it.
A very, very special thank you goes out to Cerberus Revised, who has once again added his subtlety and grace to my passable efforts. Sensei, know that you are loved.
To Takano Masamune, the object of this fujoshi's schediaphilia: Happy, happy, birthday.
The characters of Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi are property of Nakamura Shungiku.
Rated M for profanity and adult/sexual situations.
Dinner at Onodera's
By Tentai.t
December 18, 2013
It was Tuesday, December 24, the last day of hell week, the crunch at the end of the year.
The editors of the monthly Emerald were exhausted from pulling all-nighters, motivating their hardworking mangakas, dealing with impatient printers, applying typesets, adjusting toner sheets, stewing in their own stench, overdosing on coffee and pastries…
They had worked even throughout the weekend, coming in all day Saturday and half the day on Sunday. Surely this violated labor laws, but it couldn't be avoided because missing the early deadline this time would set back the production of their next magazine for the two weeks that the printers would be on vacation.
Takano Masamune, 29 years of age today, was looking just as pissed off as ever as he sat sideways, in his chair at the head of their collective desks, one foot on his knee, his elbow resting on the tabletop, just waiting for the last manuscript to come in before the 4:00 pm deadline. It was 3:25.
God, I'm tired.
Not only that, but the biting cold of December had brought chapped cheeks and even chappier lips. The pinkish blush on Onodera's cheeks and his redder than normal lips had teased Takano throughout this week of hell. It drove him crazy with want every time he watched Onodera bust out his pink tube of lip balm.
Ugh.
Sighing, with his jaw resting in his palm, fingers curled in and knuckles scrunched against his lips, the editor-in-chief raised his eyes to take another long, hard look at his Ritsu who was busy conversing on the phone with a mangaka. Takano's eyes narrowed at the sight of the sweet tip of his lover's tongue as it darted out to lick at the corner of his mouth: an unconscious habit of Ritsu's while listening to the person speak on the other end of the line.
He needs to learn to keep his tongue in his mouth when he works.
His jaw clenching, Takano closed his eyes to shield himself from the sight, but still visions of Onodera and that tempting tongue of his danced in his mind's eye. There he saw Ritsu, frantically typing away on his computer, with his pink tongue resting on the left corner of his mouth; Ritsu crouched at his table cutting toner and text, biting the tip of that sweet, slick muscle as he made careful cuts on the sheets; Ritsu staring at the half-accomplished proposal sheet in front of him, worrying at the tip of this pen as he thought of what to write next.
This guy does NOT know what he does to me.
It had been a few weeks since their fateful spaghetti dinner at his apartment and learning to restrain himself in Ritsu's presence had certainly brought its rewards. Not only was the man more receptive to his advances, in private of course, but was he was also willing to initiate his own affections, small as they were: a small graze of his hand, a chaste peck good night. Not only that, but now quiet nights often found them in one or the other's apartment, Takano teaching him some cooking techniques, even simply sitting together on the floor, conversing normally as any two friends would. And within the privacy of either of their apartments, on lucky nights, after dinner together or just working side by side, they would make hot, sweet love.
Yes, things certainly have progressed in our relationship, however convoluted it has been.
Takano licked his own lips at the memory of their breakthrough dinner date.
That night, has got to be, hands down, the best sex we'd ever had… Well, save for the first time in my bedroom… Wait… no, the time in the library… But then there was also that day when we did it on the teacher's table... Arrghh! Why am I torturing myself with these thoughts!
I'm hard, he's just sitting there, and there's nothing I can do about it.
This is all his fault.
This past week, they both had been so busy with their own work, spending long hours at the office and only having time to take a quick cat nap and a shower at home. Takano wondered how he had ever lived before, not getting a regular a dose of Ritsu's body. During this week, when they hadn't been able to be together, he'd missed their lovemaking.
A very tired Takano Masamune knew his pervy musings would currently get him up nowhere. Sitting up straighter and opening his legs wider, he shifted in his seat and pulled his chair in, to hide the evidence of his desire. However, he still held his stare across the tables at Onodera, the cause of his distress, his eyes watching Ritsu like a hawk, an unconscious leer marring his features.
Well at least we've been able to keep communicating… Sort of.
The past week had also brought a flurry of cryptic text messages.
Wednesday Text:
Onodera: What's your favorite fruit? Cherry, raspberry, or strawberry?
Takano: Strawberry.
Onodera: : )
Thursday Text:
Onodera: What kind of music do you like to listen to? Indie? Jazz? Classical?
Takano: Depends on the mood. What is this about?
Onodera: Nothing, just trying to learn more about you.
Takano: Jazz… I guess.
Onodera: : )
Friday Text:
Onodera: Chicken, pork or beef?
Takano: Beef, medium well, with a side of red wine.
Onodera: Nobody asked you about wine.
Takano: What? Beef goes well with red. Chicken and Fish with white.
Onodera: You know too much about food.
Takano: The better to feed you with. I love you.
Onodera: : )
Saturday Text:
Onodera: So hell week ends on Tuesday.
Takano: And?
Onodera: What are you doing on Tuesday night?
Takano: What are YOU doing Tuesday night?
Onodera: I asked you first.
Takano: Don't know. Maybe another lonely night in my bed, or not, depending on how willing my bed partner's going to be. You offering?
Onodera: Keep 7 open.
Takano: : D
Takano found it hard to stifle his grin at the memory of their last exchange: that last text got him 50 shades excited.
He'd expected to get another text from Onodera, and when he hadn't, he'd sulked all throughout Sunday and Monday.
Like a goddamned high school girl!
At his desk, Takano sighed again. I've been working in shoujo too long.
Not only had Ritsu not texted, but he'd successfully avoided him all afternoon on Sunday; nowhere to be found after work and left his texts or calls asking "where the hell he was" unanswered. Monday, Ritsu easily dodged being left alone with him in the elevator or the lounge.
It had felt like the old days and if Takano hadn't been so busy himself he would have pursued his lover more tenaciously to find out what the hell was going on. Today, however, while he waited for the last manuscript, he watched his prey, sitting in his chair, pretending to be busy. Onodera was the forbidden feast laid out before this starving man. Golden eyes watched hungrily as Ritsu applied more of that blasted, god forsaken, strawberry lip balm from that ridiculous (and yet fucking sexy) pink tube.
At this point, the old Takano would've risen, stormed over and seized Ritsu, thrown the younger man over his shoulder and carried him into one of the Janitor's closets. There, he would have taken his sweet time tasting those strawberry lips and fucked Ritsu senseless until he was writhing in ecstasy in his arms, screaming out his name. But his mantra as of late was: 'Good things come to those who wait.' This was what had kept Takano contained this past week. After all they had been through and where they were now, Takano in no way wanted to fuck things up again and so he had done his damnedest, waiting impatiently for whatever tonight at seven pm would bring.
Adjusting his hard on under his desk, Takano shook his dark head and sighed again.
He does NOT know what he does to me-
"Takano-san! I have the last manuscript!" Hatori, rushed in disheveled, having just arrived from his mangaka's apartment, and hurriedly passed it over.
Takano broke from his reverie, glad for the distraction and made a quick once through the pages. "The typeset is in?"
"Yes."
"Triple checked?"
"Yes."
Takano rifled through the pages once more, satisfied with the manuscript. "Yoshikawa-sensei once again doesn't disappoint." He turned to Ritsu. "Onodera! Get this to the printers pronto and just head on home after. Everyone else can go home. Thank you for your hard work."
Standing up, Ritsu took the brown envelope that held the manuscript. Upon hearing the murmured, "Be careful," he gladly grabbed the opportunity for escape that Takano-san had unwittingly provided. Clad in his coat, scarf and gathering the rest of his stuff, he quickly headed off to the elevator.
Once in the privacy of the closed car, Ritsu sighed in relief. He swiped at the pink lip balm that smeared his lips with the back of his hand, leaving behind an awkward smile on his lips.
Heaven help me if I look like a girl outside of the office.
His ruse with the lip balm to tease his lover during the past week was mean. Surreptitiously watching the man squirm and stare at him was agony as he laid his plan into action. Adding to this, he'd purposely avoided Takano-san while at home, withholding affection, testing his old senpai's new-restraint as well as his sanity.
I. Am. Going. To knock his socks off.
This whole week had been torturous for Ritsu, too: trying to find ways to avoid Takano-san, knowing for sure that if the man had been more pursuant in his advances, he would have melted in his resolve.
Ritsu still didn't know when he had allowed it to happen, but once he had decided on it, his mind had become clear as day.
I love him. There's no doubt about it.
He'd gotten the idea one day, to serve Takano dinner on his birthday, a few weeks into their private cooking lessons. Having gained confidence in his menial skill, Ritsu knew that this was something that he could pull off. He'd been bolstered in this idea by an unlikely source: while looking at manga for research purposes at the bookstore not long ago, when he'd happened upon a cookbook. His cheeks grew hot as he recalled its embarrassing title, 'The Newly Wed Cookbook: Fast, Fresh, Easy Meals for Two'.
Following his collapse that day at the end of work several weeks back, Takano had been adamant to spend a meal a day with him. But since that night of making spaghetti together, Takano had shown Ritsu a more restrained side of himself. Gone were the maniacal gropings, the forceful kisses and the pushing-pulling here and there. Ritsu's blush deepened as he realized that really, he wouldn't have minded such things now.
Not as long as we were in private, anyways…
Still this change in Takano had been a welcome one, one that had finally broken down whatever remained of the walls that Ritsu had so carefully constructed around his heart all those many years. Remembering all their many recent quiet nights they'd spent working side by side, the patient cooking lessons, the talks during the train rides to and from home, the passionate love that they'd made; Ritsu knew he couldn't help becoming closer to Takano more than anybody else. Masamune was quickly becoming his everything, even though he was still the tyrant boss everyone feared and yet respected.
And tonight…
Takano Masamune, tyrannical editor, and renewed love of Onodera Ritsu's life, was going to get the birthday party he'd missed all those years back. It was time to end this poor man's torture.
Pressing the down button for the elevator, Ritsu pulled out his phone.
Onodera: Takano-san, the pleasure of your company is requested tonight, seven pm at apartment 1202. Dinner will be served.
And with another smile and a new blush, Ritsu rushed out to the printers.
I hope y'all were good this year. Santa's a-comin'… so leave him some review cookies, yeah?