I have decided, after reading a number of hundred stories in the Junjou Romantica fandom to try my hand at it too. I chose the Terrorist pair because they seem to get a bum rap even though I rather like the pairing. I hope Sensei continues to write more for this pairing and makes the chapters longer because there is so much potential for growth. This story takes place sometime after Shinobu moves back in with Miyagi.
Disclaimer: I don't own. If I did then it wouldn't be posted on a fan fiction site and there would be more of the side stories.
/GG/
Domestic
The questions were getting old. There was nothing else to say about that fact. Whenever anyone ventured into the territory of the 17 years senior that snagged the young man's heart, all said young man heard was noise that was akin to the scratching of nails on a chalkboard. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about his relationship, quite the contrary. If Shinobu had any say he would climb to the top of Teito University's bell tower and use a megaphone to shout his love for Miyagi to the world. The reason he didn't do something so foolish was he worried about the old man's job. One word to the wrong person and old professor would lose his job, credibility, and possibly a while slew of other things the young man didn't want to think about.
So he carried on as he normally did when one of the idiots he conversed with brought up the subject of this older vixen who conquered Shinobu's heart; he ignored it with a pointed scowl. The scowl was just a front though because whenever he thought about the one who stole his heart it caused his entire physique to quake with desire and dare he think it; love. That damn old man was the only thing that was always on his mind and Shinobu wouldn't have changed a thing.
"Hey, Shinobu. How long have you been shacking up with your old lady?"
Just what he needed, another round of questioning. Was it so hard to ask for individuals to have a tiny bit of intelligence?
"That's a rather déclassé question." Shinobu answered in a monotonous yet superior tone.
"Either way," the idiot continued. "You always dance around the subject like it's taboo. When are you going to spill and let the rest of us in on what you do in your spare time?"
Shinobu rolled his eyes as he and the small group of people walked across the courtyard of Teito University.
"Use your brain and think for a moment. Since when is it not taboo for someone my age to be with someone 17 years older?" He answered as if it were the most logical thought in the world.
A girl spoke up this time. Shinobu vaguely remembered her confessing to him about a year prior. "It's not illegal Shinobu-kun, but it's also not very common for a mature woman to get together with someone your age…unless it's all about the sex."
Shinobu didn't miss a beat, but the murmurs he heard from his companions were enough to realize they were all thinking the relationship was probably purely sex and nothing else. The young man paused in thought for a moment. It was true, quite a bit of his any Miyagi's time was spent in a heated embrace, tongues dancing, and fluids being exchanged from both upper and lower oral cavities. Since moving in with the man a second time though their relationship had blossomed into quite a bit more. Many a night found the two sitting in communal silence while the elder read or watched some boring documentary while Shinobu worked on homework. The thing that made the process intimate was that one part of each of their bodies was always touching; whether it be Shinobu's shoulder on Miyagi's leg or Miyagi rubbing his foot against the youth's back. In truth, the nights spent not making love tended to be just as intimate as the nights when the two were searching each other out in their special brand of frenzied passion.
The boy was brought back into the conversation when someone laughed and made a crude comment. "Never let it be said that girls don't think about fucking any less than guys do."
This comment was enough to start a minor argument between a few of the posse and Shinobu chose this time to veer off and head in a different direction. He'd have to put up with the same type of question tomorrow and most of the days for the foreseeable future. Right now all he wanted to do was go home because he missed the smell of Miyagi.
/GG/
Said old man was sitting in his office pouring over some books he planned to use as reference for his upcoming publication. The day had been relatively quiet since Shinobu had a full class schedule and hadn't barged in during lunch and demanded attention. Plus Kamijo had taken the afternoon off because his mountain of a boyfriend was sick and the underling professor, while he wouldn't admit it, was bordering on melt-down mode because he couldn't be at the giant's beck and call. Miyagi smiled at the fact that the jaded associate professor was so twitterpaited he sometimes lost the ability to function in the real world. Sure, the man put on a good front, but even the most rock-like structures crumbled when their foundation was pulled out from underneath them.
With the lack of anyone to tease and the lack of certain little terrorists demanding attention, Miyagi only had one other option (aside from going home to an empty house) and that was to work. So the studious, on occasion, professor set to work and had managed to complete quite a bit in the form of a bibliography for his new text. Fifty references was more than enough for a good start.
As he continued working the sound of the ticking clock became louder in his head and he found himself flicking his pen in rhythm to the ticks. Once the clock became too much he looked at the time and saw that it was after five, which meant Shinobu-chin was probably already at home attempting to turn pumpkins into something edible. Where the boy picked up his affinity for strange foods was a mystery that not even Sherlock Holms would be able to discover. Still, he tried and that was more than he could hope for in a partner so young.
Miyagi put his pen down and started to pack up his desk. He reached over for a cigarette and brought the stick of pleasure to his mouth. He'd rather have a different stick in his mouth, but since he was lacking one diminutive boy he was stuck with the cylinder of nicotine. One of these days he was going to quit, but he had a feeling Shinobu wouldn't like the animal that would awaken when he was going through withdraw.
The fact that he was wishing for the stubborn young man meant that it was past time to return home. If he was lucky he'd make it there before the brat burned a hole in the ceiling again by adding too much cooking sherry to whatever concoction dinner that night was going to be. For such a smart kid Shinobu-chin certainly lacked in other ways.
The professor left his office and made his way to his car. It was going to be a long drive home but that drive would disappear once he set foot inside and was greeted by the stubborn person who managed to weasel his way into the heart of equally stubborn old man. Miyagi wouldn't change anything about his life in that moment.
/GG/
Dinner was being kept warm in the oven while Shinobu took a shower. The boy had somehow managed to explode a pumpkin while attempting to cook it and ended up with strings of squash in his hair. After cleaning the kitchen, sans ceiling since he couldn't reach it, he finished creating and decided that removing the sticky substance from his hair was mandatory. The last time he'd ended up with sticky hair was when he and Miyagi had been sucking each other off and just as Shinobu came he pulled his head back causing the substance from Miyagi's own climax to shoot onto his forehead. By the time either realized what had happened Shinobu had rubbed his hand through his sweaty locks which caused the spunk to become a nice thick coat of gel on his already wet hair.
"Perverted old man." Shinobu mumbled as he used the shampoo to wash out the orange strings of pumpkin. "Should have known that I wouldn't have been able to remain attached at that point." The thought caused a blush to creep up his cheeks. No matter what he loved that perverted man more than he loved himself.
After he finished in the shower he went to his rarely used room to find a new outfit since his prior ensemble needed to be washed. The student put on a pair of lounge pants and an oversized tee-shirt he'd stolen from Miyagi that smelled of the man. On nights when he slept in his own room Shinobu slept in one of the professor's tee-shirts just for the smell. The need to sleep in his own room was so rare though since Miyagi was more than willing to cuddle with the young man whenever he could anymore. This caused the fire in his veins to shoot through his system and he pinched his cheeks to keep him from causing any sort of reaction in his nether regions.
When Shinobu left his room and returned to the kitchen he stopped short at the sight of his old man staring at him with a limp cigarette half hanging from his lips. This caused the younger of the two to blush as he tried to ascertain what the pervert could possibly be thinking.
Said pervert was thinking and it made him feel all domestic. Here was his lanky terrorist wearing loose fitting pajama bottoms, sans underwear, and one of his (probably dirty) tee-shirts. Miyagi only had one phrase going through his mind at that moment, how can one skinny little brat be so fucking cute wearing my dirty clothes?
"Take a picture old man, it'll last longer." Shinobu growled with a scowl. Miyagi did just that which caused the youth to blush about ten shades of red as he ambled to the kitchen to retrieve the provisions he'd painstakingly worked on less than an hour prior. Miyagi snapped another picture of the red terrorist and then put his cell into his briefcase before coming further into the room.
"Welcome home Miyagi." Shinobu said softly as he put the buttered pumpkin onto a plate.
Miyagi smiled and reached across the counter to ruffle the boy's hair, earning another deep blush. "It's good to be home Shinobu-chin."
The two sat down to eat the slightly edible meal with one another and talk amicably about work, school, and life in general. Even though they sat across from one another at a western style table, their bodies remained connected, as underneath the table their feet were intertwined with one another. After all, it's difficult to keep from touching that one person you belong with, even for something as domestic as dinner.