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It’s easy, Kristoph thinks, to see how deprived of love Apollo is. Even before they became romantically involved Apollo craved his boss’ approval. Would seek it desperately, and not even bother to hide it—not well.
Apollo still seeks Kristoph’s approval; his care. The smallest of gestures do not go unnoticed with the brunet. A lingering touch, an affectionate kiss, or even simply keeping his gaze on Apollo and smiling lifts Apollo’s mood.
They lay together, sometimes, after intimacy. Just lie there, Apollo snuggled up against the blond’s side, listening to the older man murmur endearments. Kristoph does not do this often, but he must treat Apollo sometimes, more so in the beginning of their relationship, in order to keep him coming back. Like one would do with an animal. Feed it a few times and it will always come back for more.
It never fails to make Apollo smile, true joy shining in his eyes. Sometimes he blushes. Every time he returns the flattery with honest adoration.
Apollo admits, one night, with some liquid courage to bolster him (or perhaps just loosen his lips), that he’s never felt loved before, not like this. Not romantically. Apollo soon gets emotional, apologizes profusely, and tells Kristoph to forget it. Kristoph shakes his head; tells Apollo it is fine, to come here.
When Apollo cries it thoroughly humiliates him. He has not had that much wine; he is not drunk enough for this.
“Relax,” Kristoph murmurs. It’s enough.
Apollo is back to his usual self the next day, continues on beaming at every compliment. Kristoph does not need to make them often, but after that night, when they are tucked away in Apollo’s apartment for once, Kristoph praises him again. For little things, and things that make him go redder than his suit, heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck.
It’s worth it, Kristoph thinks, when the utter loyalty Apollo shows Kristoph in return reminds him of Vongole.