[ As much as he misses Ryuji's presence and the weight of his eyes on him, having him out of the room allows Ren a chance to press his arousal to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand. It's easier to calm down when he's occupied with bringing the sliced pork to a simmer with the other ingredients, the smell slowly filling the kitchen the longer the pot remains on the stove.
This is one of the many things he learned how to make just because Ryuji likes it. Back in high school, his cooking skills were limited to curry and the basics. Now that they're living alone, eating out often isn't really feasible—he's had to adapt and expand his recipe repertoire quite a bit over the past months. But Ren enjoys it, honestly. Even if it's not curry, it reminds him of stirring the pot of curry at Leblanc, and Ryuji's always so openly pleased by whatever he makes (or whatever they make together) that it always feels fulfilling.
Thankfully, cooking in a café kitchen has made him efficient. By the time Ryuji returns, he's got the rice going and is in the midst of chopping the last of the ingredients. The sound of him entering the kitchen draws Ren's attention in a quick glance.
And then another.
Those are Ren's clothes hanging on Ryuji's frame. They're just the loose-fitting pieces he enjoys most for lounging around the apartment, worn through frequent use to the perfect level of comfort, but there's something appealing about the sight of something of his on Ryuji's skin.
But he doesn't allow his gaze to linger. That would be letting Ryuji know how much it affects him, so Ren resolutely returns to chopping the onion, teeth catching against his bottom lip. They only sink in deeper when arms curl around his middle and the warmth of another body radiates into his back.
Ryuji seems to have no intention of turning this innocent touch against him, though. Ren allows himself to relax after a moment of anticipation, letting the words wash over him. He can drop the pretenses for a moment, perhaps. ] … I'm happy you like it. [ He just wanted to surprise Ryuji with something new and exciting, after all. ]
no subject
This is one of the many things he learned how to make just because Ryuji likes it. Back in high school, his cooking skills were limited to curry and the basics. Now that they're living alone, eating out often isn't really feasible—he's had to adapt and expand his recipe repertoire quite a bit over the past months. But Ren enjoys it, honestly. Even if it's not curry, it reminds him of stirring the pot of curry at Leblanc, and Ryuji's always so openly pleased by whatever he makes (or whatever they make together) that it always feels fulfilling.
Thankfully, cooking in a café kitchen has made him efficient. By the time Ryuji returns, he's got the rice going and is in the midst of chopping the last of the ingredients. The sound of him entering the kitchen draws Ren's attention in a quick glance.
And then another.
Those are Ren's clothes hanging on Ryuji's frame. They're just the loose-fitting pieces he enjoys most for lounging around the apartment, worn through frequent use to the perfect level of comfort, but there's something appealing about the sight of something of his on Ryuji's skin.
But he doesn't allow his gaze to linger. That would be letting Ryuji know how much it affects him, so Ren resolutely returns to chopping the onion, teeth catching against his bottom lip. They only sink in deeper when arms curl around his middle and the warmth of another body radiates into his back.
Ryuji seems to have no intention of turning this innocent touch against him, though. Ren allows himself to relax after a moment of anticipation, letting the words wash over him. He can drop the pretenses for a moment, perhaps. ] … I'm happy you like it. [ He just wanted to surprise Ryuji with something new and exciting, after all. ]